All at sea: rethinking our political and ethical responsibility to the global oceans

Garrett Hardin's "tragedy of the commons" has shaped resource management and conservation in both marine and terrestrial spaces. However, it is this metaphor, and proposed solutions, that have perpetuated the maritime tragedy of the commons. The conservation paradigms inspired by Hardin's framework have produced disjointed efforts that focus on limiting access rather than challenging the current epistemological, ethical, and regulatory systems driving marine degradation. Politics, social structures, conservation science, and economics all collide in marine protected areas (MPAs), which make them uniquely situated for rethinking humanity's relationship to the global oceans. The hydrocommons can encourage more collaborative and effective network of MPAs as it provides a different commons framework. A framework that fundamentally opposes the assumptions made in Hardin's metaphorical commons and more accurately portrays human relationships to the ocean. Palau's recent national marine sanctuary and marine tenure history illustrate what hydrocommons informed marine conservation might look like, as Palau's actions are more in line with the hydrocommons than Hardin's pasture. Incorporating the hydrocommons into resource management challenges the way commons spaces have been conceptually mapped and subsequently protected. By accepting how we, as humans, are semiotically, physically, and culturally intertwined with the hydrological cycle, the hydrocommons creates space for new ethical and political modes of iv engagement. The theoretical insights provided by the hydrocommons, represented by Palau's socio-economic relationships and decentralized institutional agreements, can illustrate the ethical and political requirements of humans in the Anthropocene. Polycentricity is a fundamental concept of commons scholarship and lends itself best to the hydrocommons framework as it can account for the full complexity of commons spaces. Incorporating several levels of autonomy to address the social, economic, and cultural values of an ocean space can produce more holistic MPA designations. When resource users have a voice in designing and monitoring MPAs, they can contribute local knowledge that provides new perspectives and strengthens user commitment. Adopting a polycentric system of marine governance is essential as both small and large institutions are needed for effective management.

ALL AT SEA: RETHINKING OUR POLITICAL AND ETHICAL RESPONSIBILITY TO THE GLOBAL OCEANS by Bianca Kay Greeff A thesis submitted to the faculty of The University of Utah in partial fulfillment of the requirements for the degree of Master of Science in Environmental Humanities College of Humanities The University of Utah August 2018 Copyright © Bianca Kay Greeff 2018 All Rights Reserved The University of Utah Graduate School STATEMENT OF THESIS APPROVAL The thesis of Bianca Kay Greeff has been approved by the following supervisory committee members: Jeffrey McCarthy , Chair April 26, 2018 Date Approved Julia Corbett , Member April 25, 2018 Date Approved Diana Leong , Member April 25, 2018 Date Approved and by the Graduate Program of Jeffrey McCarthy , Director of Environmental Humanities and by David B. Kieda, Dean of The Graduate School. ABSTRACT Garrett Hardin’s “tragedy of the commons” has shaped resource management and conservation in both marine and terrestrial spaces. However, it is this metaphor, and proposed solutions, that have perpetuated the maritime tragedy of the commons. The conservation paradigms inspired by Hardin’s framework have produced disjointed efforts that focus on limiting access rather than challenging the current epistemological, ethical, and regulatory systems driving marine degradation. Politics, social structures, conservation science, and economics all collide in marine protected areas (MPAs), which make them uniquely situated for rethinking humanity’s relationship to the global oceans. The hydrocommons can encourage more collaborative and effective network of MPAs as it provides a different commons framework. A framework that fundamentally opposes the assumptions made in Hardin’s metaphorical commons and more accurately portrays human relationships to the ocean. Palau’s recent national marine sanctuary and marine tenure history illustrate what hydrocommons informed marine conservation might look like, as Palau’s actions are more in line with the hydrocommons than Hardin’s pasture. Incorporating the hydrocommons into resource management challenges the way commons spaces have been conceptually mapped and subsequently protected. By accepting how we, as humans, are semiotically, physically, and culturally intertwined with the hydrological cycle, the hydrocommons creates space for new ethical and political modes of engagement. The theoretical insights provided by the hydrocommons, represented by Palau’s socio-economic relationships and decentralized institutional agreements, can illustrate the ethical and political requirements of humans in the Anthropocene. Polycentricity is a fundamental concept of commons scholarship and lends itself best to the hydrocommons framework as it can account for the full complexity of commons spaces. Incorporating several levels of autonomy to address the social, economic, and cultural values of an ocean space can produce more holistic MPA designations. When resource users have a voice in designing and monitoring MPAs, they can contribute local knowledge that provides new perspectives and strengthens user commitment. Adopting a polycentric system of marine governance is essential as both small and large institutions are needed for effective management. iv TABLE OF CONTENTS ABSTRACT ....................................................................................................................... iii Chapters 1. INTRODUCTION .......................................................................................................... 1 1.1 Key Movements in Marine Conservation ............................................................ 3 1.2 Collaboration ....................................................................................................... 7 2. THE COMMONS ......................................................................................................... 11 2.1 The Tragedy ....................................................................................................... 12 2.2 The Oceans as a Global Commons .................................................................... 13 2.1.1 Applying Hardin’s Solutions to the Ocean ............................................ 15 2.3 Critiques of Hardin ............................................................................................ 18 2.3.1 Group Dynamics .................................................................................... 20 2.4 Charting a New Commons ................................................................................. 22 2.4.1 No Technical Solutions .......................................................................... 23 3. THE HYDROCOMMONS ........................................................................................... 26 3.1 Relationality ....................................................................................................... 27 3.1.1 Deconstructing Dualisms ....................................................................... 31 3.2 Self-Interest ........................................................................................................ 33 3.3 Redefining the Commons .................................................................................. 34 3.3.1 Implications for Marine Conservation ................................................... 35 3.3.2. Locality ................................................................................................. 37 3.4 Moving from Theory to Practice ....................................................................... 38 4. PALAU ......................................................................................................................... 40 4.1 Social Relationships ........................................................................................... 41 4.1.1 Customary Marine Tenure ..................................................................... 43 4.2 Political Structure .............................................................................................. 46 4.3 Protected Area Network ..................................................................................... 48 4.3.1 Restructure ............................................................................................. 50 4.4 Decentralizing Control ....................................................................................... 52 4.5 A Parable for the Anthropocene ........................................................................ 54 5. APPLYING THE HYDROCOMMONS TO RESOURCE MANAGEMENT ............ 56 5.1 Developing Resource User Agreements ............................................................ 57 5.1.1 Commitment .......................................................................................... 59 5.2 Political Agreements .......................................................................................... 62 5.2.1 Global Political Agreements .................................................................. 65 5.3 Ethical Agreements ............................................................................................ 66 5.3.1 Scale ....................................................................................................... 69 5.4 Adaptable Action ............................................................................................... 72 6. CONCLUSION ............................................................................................................. 74 6.1 Collective Action, Collective Responses ........................................................... 77 6.2 Global Action from the Local ............................................................................ 78 WORKS CITED................................................................................................................ 79 vi CHAPTER 1 INTRODUCTION Garrett Hardin’s “tragedy of the commons” has shaped resource management and conservation in both marine and terrestrial spaces. At the same time, it is this metaphor, and proposed solutions, that have perpetuated the maritime tragedy of the commons. Commons scholars have uncovered the social and political requirements needed for a commons to operate as a success. I do not suggest overriding these findings, but rather question if there is a better way to support them. I argue Hardin’s metaphor is insufficient in representing the complete tragedy happening in marine spaces. Instead, a theoretical commons framework that fosters collaboration and cooperation across differences is needed. I question if our conceptual understanding of the commons shifts from Hardin’s pasture to a more embedded definition of commons, how might that change responses to resource management in marine spaces? Garrett Hardin developed the tragedy of the commons in his 1968 article to explain the degradation caused by collective use of a shared resource. While many scholars have taken issue with Hardin’s prediction, and even Hardin has rephrased his theory, the tragedy of the commons remains the theoretical foundation for resource conservation and management. Hardin’s pasture resonated culturally in the 60s, and continues to resonate today, despite criticism, due to its defense of liberal individualism. 2 Hardin’s commons model came to be in the late 1960s when liberal individualism defined the United States' political landscape. Several social and political movements like the Civil Rights movement, American Indian movement, and the socialist movement were questioning aspects of liberal ideals. At the same time, the economics of resources were booming in the wake of the environmental movement (Locher XXII). Resource economics and the rise of social and political liberal individualism, both at the local and global levels, dovetailed to give Hardin’s tragedy “its place in current debates on the environment, resources, and the market” (Locher XXIV). Hardin’s solutions to the tragedy of the commons continue to saturate resource management and economics in the West as his solutions are consistent with market-based valuations. The normalization of Western economics, and subsequent models of economic valuation, have dislocated the ocean from its physical and cognitive place, and ultimately have become barriers to marine conservation. The tragedy of the commons occurs when a shared resource is regarded as free and open to all, considered inexhaustible, misused by free riders, or removed from our conceptual understanding of self, or self-identity. It is here that I would like to highlight the difference between the tragedy of the commons, and the commons. These two terms are often used synonymously but represent two different models. This distinction is important, as various iterations of the commons have operated successfully for centuries and can still operate successfully in the future through collective action. In this thesis, I define the commons as the cultural and natural resources accessible to a group of people. Commons scholars, like Elinor Ostrom, notably one of Hardin’s biggest critics, use the term common-pool resource to describe the same. What both these terms, commons and 3 common-pool resource, signify is that a resource is held in common, rather than through private property or another form of ownership. On the other hand, the tragedy of the commons is when a commons, or common-pool resource, is exploited or depleted. 1.1 Key Movements in Marine Conservation Conventional collective action theory predicts that taking action to reduce a problem requires an externally enforced set of rules (Ostrom Polycentric systems 550). Regarding the global commons, like the ocean and the atmosphere, global policy analysts have subsequently presumed that an enforceable global agreement is the only way to address global collective action problems (Ostrom Polycentric systems 550). However, in the global oceans, international treaties have lacked the cohesion and enforceability needed to make these efforts effective. The United Nations Convention on the Law of the Sea (UNCLOS) was drafted in 1982 to address the ‘freedom of the seas’ ethic that has been prevalent since the seventeenth century. Hugo Grotius wrote Mare Liberum, or freedom of the seas, in 1604 which advocates for limited government intervention on the high seas. This philosophy depended on several assumptions—the oceans cannot be privately appropriated, they are inexhaustible, the use of one would not hinder the use of another, and that humans were incapable of “seriously impairing the quality of the marine environment” (Schrijver 214). When these assumptions proved to be inaccurate, and misuse and overexploitation became visible, concern began to grow, and calls for international management were made. As a result, UNCLOS was drafted to establish: a legal order for the seas and oceans which will facilitate international communication and will promote the peaceful uses of the seas and oceans, the 4 equitable and efficient utilization of their resources, the conservation of their living resources and the study, protection and preservation of the marine environment (UNCLOS 25). Still, over thirty years since its adoption, the UNCLOS’ vision remains elusive (Töpfer et al. 85). The modern law of the sea moved away from Mare Liberum in two key ways. First authority is given to coastal nations to govern the ocean space 200 nautical miles off their coast, referred to as their exclusive economic zone. Second is the possibility for negotiation on treaties to regulate activities on the ocean. While treaties like the Convention on Fishing and Conservation of Living Resources of the High Seas or the Marine Mammal Protection Act have since been implemented, in 1966 and 1972 respectively, the core of the ocean’s current legal framework is the 1982 Law of the Sea Convention (Caron 26). Marine protected areas (MPAs) are commonly cited as the most effective type of marine conservation. UNCLOS provided the legal framework needed for nations to implement regulation and management of marine resources. As a result, MPAs began gaining traction in the late 1950s and early 1960s. However, many of these MPAs were “de facto reserves” as they were challenging to access1 (National Research Council 145). The third United Nations Conference on the Law of the Sea in 1973 “provided a legal basis upon which measures of the establishment of MPAs and the conservation of marine resources could be developed for areas beyond territorial seas” (National Research Council 148). The International Union for the Conservation of Nature and Natural 1 Marine protected areas (MPAs) are not a Western conception. Island nations in Oceania, and across the globe have been regulating and managing fisheries for centuries (National Research Council 145). 5 Resources (ICUN) and the United Nations Educational, Scientific, and Cultural Organization (UNESCO) followed and strengthened MPA designations by calling for well-monitored systems and integrating multiple-use designations, respectively (National Research Council 148). Despite significant scientific consensus and continual research on the ecological impacts of MPAs, “there has been comparatively little research on the political and institutional dimensions thereof” (Gruby and Basurto 49). Twenty years ago, MPAs only covered coastal areas. As of September 2017, MPAs cover 6.35 percent of the global oceans. A ten-fold increase from the MPA coverage in 2000 (Global shift in Marine Protected Area). However, nearly half of this coverage comes from 10 of the largest MPAs (Global shift in Marine Protected Area). The rapid development of MPAs has the potential to catalyze significant change, but also can significantly disenfranchise communities. Marine conservation has recently become a prominent figure in international policy and has been designated as a Sustainable Development Goal (SDG) by the United Nations. SDGs are a call to action to protect the planet and end poverty. SDG 14 aims to enhance conservation and sustainable use of ocean resources. It was this goal that served as the platform for the first United Nations Ocean Conference in June 2017. From the conference came an international accord—to protect the biodiversity of the high seas by designation 10 percent of ocean spaces as a MPA—that, with support, has the potential to be the most important treaty of this generation (Woody). To meet the ambitious goal of protecting 10 percent of the oceans by 2020, more significant support is needed for MPAs (Goal 14). Merely designating more marine protected areas will not be sufficient 6 in meeting conservation goals (Chauvenet and Barnes 551). MPAs are often measured on biological goals: “MPAs that meet narrowly defined biological goals are generally presented as ‘successes’” (Christie 155). What is excluded from these biological goals is a social evaluation. In other words, it is possible for MPAs to be biologically successful, but a social failure. What is important to note is the strong connection between social and biological factors, as it is the “social considerations [determine] long-term biological success” of a MPA (Christie 155). Politics, social structures, conservation science, and economics all collide in MPAs, which makes these spaces, as I later argue, naturalcultural. Implementing more MPAs without considering the human dimensions of these seascapes can disadvantage or displace communities and produce unsustainable designations. With this, community involvement and equality in MPA designations is necessary moving forward. Current resource management, reliant on Hardin’s model of the commons, is unable to incorporate both the social and ecological components of a seascape into management. Therefore, a new model of the commons is needed. Realistically, developing a new political instrument to regulate interactions with the ocean might take several years, even decades. Even the United Nations’ treaty to protect biodiversity on the high seas hopes to begin negotiations “as soon as possible,” with talks optimistically concluding by 2019 (Woody, U.N. Moved). However, due to increasing pressures from compounding forms of degradation, the oceans can’t wait that long. Even if a new ruling document is produced, there is no guarantee of national endorsement, an example being the United States who has yet to sign the Law of the Sea. Clearly, not all political efforts are futile, but they cannot be our only strategy for 7 achieving marine conservation. I suggest adopting social change, along with the legislative change, as a way towards sustainable ocean governance. As “the roots of environmental problems are social, it is possible to pursue social change to avert the collapse of fisheries and marine systems” (Longo et al. 13). 1.2 Collaboration Current approaches to marine conservation, reliant on Hardin’s framework, are primarily economic and cater to national and international organizations’ needs (Yeager 525). This reductive approach abstracts the social and ecological complexity of the global oceans. Commons scholars have identified some of the requirements for a commons to operate as a success. I suggest applying Astrida Neimanis’ hydrocommons to resource management can better support findings by commons scholars and lead to more holistic management of the global oceans. The hydrocommons embeds humans in the commons, which dramatically differs from Hardin’s anthropocentric, apolitical commons. An embedded understanding of the commons is more applicable to the global ocean as the oceans provide the conditions necessary for a livable planet. More than that, as humans, as bodies of water ourselves, we are materially embedded in the ocean, regardless of our geographic location. I question how that embeddedness changes where the ocean is placed in our collective imaginary? Further, what are the ethical and political requirements of humans embedded in a rapidly transforming world? I suggest the hydrocommons framework can illuminate some of these requirements. However, as resource management is contingent and contextual, I do not suggest the hydrocommons provides a silver bullet approach. 8 Instead, the hydrocommons provides a framework that encourages collaboration between bodies of water. As a global community, we are at a critical moment in marine conservation. There has been significant damage done to marine ecosystems, but the oceans are resilient. Enacting social and political change that better supports holistic MPA designations can provide the ocean the space it needs to recover. Politics, social structures, conservation science, and economics all collide in MPAs, which make them uniquely suited to critically question the theoretical commons framework on which Western resource management relies. Hardin proposes that utilizing private property and coercion can avoid the tragedy of the commons. In the global oceans, these solutions are perpetuating the tragedy rather than preventing it. These responses focus on restricting access in the commons instead of challenging the social and political institutions that regulate interactions in these spaces. To effect significant change, traditional commons logic needs to be challenged. The hydrocommons provides a commons framework that allows for the recognition of personal responsibility. Thinking of the hydrological cycle as global commons situates humans, as watery bodies, as part of the cycle. Collaboration is possible in the hydrocommons as it illuminates the intersectionality of our existence, and consequently advocates for a more integrated, reciprocal relationship between watery bodies. The insight provided by the hydrocommons can reconcile the current fragmented approaches to marine conservation by providing a flexible and adaptable commons framework. As a way to tangibly explore this the intersection between the hydrocommons and 9 resource management, I use Palau’s National Marine Sanctuary designation as a case study. In 2015, Palau designated one of the largest marine reserves on the planet. The reserve encompasses Palau’s entire exclusive economic zone (EEZ). Eighty percent of the territorial waters are no-take, or doesn’t allow extractive activities, while the remaining 20 percent is reserved for domestic fishing. Palau’s designation is representative of a larger trend in marine conservation—large MPAS. While large MPAs, defined as conservation areas >30,000 km2, have a high profile in marine conservation, they are contested (Davies et al.). Supporters of large MPAs argue these designations are essential to protecting species and mitigating impacts of climate change. Conversely, critiques argue political targets drive large MPA designations in "remote areas with critical threats, and thus have limited conservation potential” (Davies et al.). Palau directly challenges this logic as the National Marine Sanctuary covers areas directly connected to both tangible and intangible human values, fundamentally disrupting Palau’s economic structure. As a result, the designation is being implemented over the course of five years as to ensure sustainability and provide communities time to adjust. As Palau has situated themselves as a global leader in marine conservation, many lessons can be drawn from their maritime tenure history. Palau's recent designation is substantial as it fits both into the slow pace of international policy and serves as a representation of the urgent need for global action. I suggest that Palau’s actions are more representative of the hydrocommons framework than Hardin’s. I do not claim to speak for Palau or Palauan communities. Rather, I rely on sentiments expressed in political and academic documents to closely and critically read and build my argument 10 upon. Palau’s polycentric governance, strong individual engagement, and conceptual mapping of the oceans illuminate the very tangible ways adopting the hydrocommons can influence and improve marine conservation. Palau depicts how refining our social institutions can produce effective MPAs. By applying a hydrocommons lens to Palau’s marine tenure history, I hope that these efforts will demonstrate how innovative changes at smaller scales can ultimately produce larger-scale transformations. CHAPTER 2 THE COMMONS The way Western society thinks about environmental concerns and natural resource management has been largely influenced by Garrett Hardin's 1968 article "The Tragedy of the Commons." Hardin’s article is an argument for limiting human population growth to protect the planet’s finite resources. Accordingly, his “tragedy” also struck a chord with those involved with natural resource management. Hardin’s chief argument is that without regulation, either self- or lawfully imposed, the depletion of shared natural resources is inevitable. While Hardin’s tragedy is often the example cited to explain resource depletion, he wasn’t the first to notice how human self-interest often overpowers shared interest. Aristotle, Thomas Hobbes, William Forster Lloyd, and others before Hardin referenced the “tragedy” that can occur when many use the same resource (Ostrom Governing the Commons 2). Hardin popularized the “tragedy” by employing a common metaphor in a way that is general enough to be, and has been, applied to many natural resource use problems. As a result, Hardin’s “tragedy” has influenced environmental legislation and continues to do so today. However, given the magnitude of human impact on the other-than-human world, I suggest a new theoretical framework is needed to guide Western approaches to resource management. 12 2.1 The Tragedy In his article, “The Tragedy of the Commons,” Hardin suggests individual actors will rationally place self-interest before shared interest. He illustrates this by describing a pasture where individual herders are trying to expand their cattle populations: “As a rational being, each herdsman seeks to maximize his gain. Explicitly or implicitly,” Hardin argues (1244). As each herder adds additional animals to their herd, they become entrapped by “a system that compels him to increase his herd without limit—in a world that is limited” (Hardin 1244). The costs of increasing cattle stocks are externalized in a way that is consistent with a capitalist system. The herders reap the benefits of a larger herd while the pasture, and consequently the other herders, share the remaining costs. In his essay, Hardin provides two prescriptions for avoiding the tragedy of the commons. The first is the implementation of “mutual coercion” (1247). Hardin’s use of coercion is different than what we might immediately think of. Instead of strong-arming herders into regulation, Hardin suggests it is coercion that has been “mutually agreed upon by the majority of the people affected” (1247). However, that doesn’t mean the coercion has to be enjoyable. An example Hardin gives is that of taxes. Hardin recognizes that while we might not necessarily enjoy paying taxes, we have accepted them as a part of daily life. Taxes are an example of the regulations that can be implemented to preserve the commons. However, it is coercion that causes individuals to agree to these regulations. These types of regulations, Hardin argues, are a way to prevent a shared resource from falling into the tragedy of the commons. The second solution Hardin provides is that of “private property coupled with legal inheritance” (1247). Hardin is not alone in his assertion that property rights are a 13 proven way to prevent the tragedy of the commons. When an individual has ownership over a defined area, the individual has more incentive to act as steward. Property rights extend an individual’s self-interest to include the land too. In other words, preventing the overuse of private property is an act of self-interest as the individual is the only one who directly prospers from a healthy pasture. This individual perspective is disjunctive as the pasture’s value is portrayed as being directly tied to human use, disarticulating the pasture’s intrinsic value and the intangible human values placed on the landscape. Nonetheless, the concept of private property has been implemented as a solution to environmental degradation since the beginning of the conservation movement. However, in marine spaces, private property has become a driving factor of depletion instead of a remedy. 2.2 The Oceans as a Global Commons The decline of global fisheries is one of the most tangible examples of the tragedy of the commons. Fishers and organizations from the community level to international bodies, like the United Nations or World Conservation Union, can conceptualize the fundamental problem, yet consensus on how best to address the issue has not been achieved. Both individual ships and massive fleets are locked into a system that pushes fishers to take on socially and environmentally dangerous and damaging fishing practices. As the fish decrease in both population and size, fishers are more likely to resort to illegal and destructive methods to maintain or attain quotas. These practices are adopted without much deliberation as the more target species a vessel can bring in, the more profit they receive. This system has desensitized the process, and, “people have 14 gotten used to using space technology and weapons of mass destruction in our marine ecosystems” (Clover 218). The normalization of nets and long lines that can reach the depths of the oceans, GPS plotters, sonar, satellite mapping, and analytical computer software has allowed for the unrelenting use of these methods. The use of this technology perpetuates the same rational thinking Hardin illustrated in his pasture. Consistent with Hardin’s tragedy, the costs of overfishing are externalized below the surface. That invisibility is utilized to promote the use of harmful practices further citing idioms—like “there are plenty of fish in the sea”—as support for inaction. Termed bycatch, the species that have been deemed worthless by the market are tossed overboard, dead or dying, to make room for the target species. The United Nations Food and Agriculture Organization estimates about a third of the global catch “goes over the side” as bycatch (Clover 72). Other organizations, like the World Wildlife Fund, estimate that bycatch can account for 40 percent of fish caught worldwide (Davies et al. 1). Bycatch quickly disappear from consciousness after they are submerged, forcing the ocean to bear the total costs of human relationships to the sea. However, fishing is just one example of the depletion of ocean resources. The sea absorbs increasing atmospheric carbon dioxide, which is transforming the ocean into a state that hasn’t been seen on the planet for “hundreds of thousands or millions of years” (Roberts 7). Pollutants “ranging from toxic chemicals and the now ubiquitous plastic to sewage and fertilizers, and to less familiar pollutants, such as noise and invasive species” jeopardize the ocean’s vitality (Roberts 7). The effects of aquaculture, or fish farming, are some of the worst as they are “usually irreversible by the time the problem is noticed” (Roberts 258). While some of the same rational thinking Hardin identified in the tragedy of the commons is present, the global 15 oceans differ from Hardin’s pasture as there is not one cause for depletion. Instead, degradation is caused by overlapping crises that exacerbate each other, subsequently magnifying the tragedy. In his article Hardin recognized: the oceans of the world continue to suffer from the survival of the philosophy of the commons. Maritime nations still respond automatically to the shibboleth of the ‘freedom of the seas.’ Professing to believe in the ‘inexhaustible resources of the oceans,’ they bring species after species of fish and whales closer to extinction (1245). Fifty years later, Hardin’s assertion about the marine commons still holds true. However, the global oceans are suffering due to the survival of the philosophy of the tragedy of the commons, not the theory of the commons. The logic of the tragedy of the commons supports the continued depletion of marine resources by encouraging regulations based on limiting access. The tragedy of the commons continues to survive in marine spaces as Hardin’s commons remains the foundation that guides regulations and decision-making. 2.1.1 Applying Hardin’s Solutions to the Ocean The underlying question in the tragedy of the commons is how to limit the current use of a natural resource to ensure its economic and ecological viability in the future. The general problem facing those involved with common resource use, and what drives Hardin’s tragedy, is the question of how to avoid adverse outcomes of independent action. In his article, Hardin suggests this can be done through private property or coercion, yet both have failed to prevent the tragedy of the commons in marine spaces. Fisheries, and more broadly the ocean, exist in the space between private and public resources, defying the engrained private-public dichotomy of Hardin’s metaphor. 16 In marine ecosystems, the “establishment of individual property rights is virtually out of the question” (Colin Clark, qt in Ostrom Governing the Commons 13). Nation-states have set out to designate private rights through the establishment of exclusive economic zones (EEZs); however, thinking of the water inside those boundaries as “private” is unfitting. The flow of the global oceans continually circulates in and out of nation-state boundaries. “In regard to nonstationary resources, such as water and fisheries, it is unclear what the establishment of private rights means” (Governing the Commons 13). In the oceans, private rights have manifested through policy regulations as a way to economically manage access. Regarding fisheries, Individual Transferable Quotas, or the privatization of fish stocks, have been implemented as a response to declining fisheries (Hawkshaw et al. 3142). However, instead of addressing the tragedy, these quotas perpetuate it by increasing the economic value of certain species with no regard for bycatch. Another attempt to privatize the global oceans takes form in exclusive economic zones (EEZs). Supported by UNCLOS, nation-states effectively own the species in their EEZ, but that has not reduced overfishing (Hawkshaw et al. 3142). Rather “the majority of the fish caught around the globe are within . . . EEZs of one nation or another” (Hawkshaw et al. 3142). While thinking of the water within EEZs as private property is inaccurate, I do not suggest removing those boundaries as they provide a critical foundation for state-based conservation. However, it should also be noted that EEZs don’t account for the complexity or complete function of the planetary oceans. Nation states designate EEZ boundaries based on the shore, not the ocean. EEZ boundaries cut through currents, 17 migration routes, and habitats. More than that, the boundaries do not keep pollutants in or out. In comparison, the high seas—the areas outside of any nation’s EEZ and cover over half the planet—are mostly unregulated. Regulation and governance have proven to be more of a challenge in the high seas than they have been in EEZs. As a result, MPA designations have focused on waters within national jurisdictions, with only .25 percent of the high seas covered by a MPA (Global shift in Marine Protected Area). Because a holistic approach to ocean conservation efforts cannot stop at EEZ boundaries, conservation efforts and initiatives need to foster collaboration across differences of ecosystems, species, and nation states. Hardin’s other solution, coercion, is also problematic as it can often overpower voluntary organizations and privilege those with economic or political power. Coercion can be applied by a legislative or ruling body to instill fear and support more oppressive regulations (Ostrom Governing the Commons 41). These oppressive types of coercion “can be counterproductive, destroying social norms and psychological attributes that support cooperative approaches” (Webster 3). The tragedy of the commons is “amplified politically when structures of power favor resources appropriation by a few individuals rather than collective management by communities that are dependent on the resources” (Webster 3). The collective management by communities is an important component to a successful commons. However, currently, “ordinary folks have little say about maritime preservation or management” (Yeager 525). Instead of catering to national and international organizations, future marine conservation should cater to communities. Adopting a new commons framework will allow for greater involvement of communities with the support of larger organizations in a way that supports mutual gain agreements. 18 Neither of Hardin’s proposed solutions, privatization or mutual coercion, have been “uniformly successful in enabling individuals to sustain long-term, productive use of natural resource systems” (Ostrom Governing the Commons 1). Attempts to privatize the global oceans illuminate the way the tragedy of the commons philosophy is undermining efforts at marine conservation. The Western social-psychological features that guide interactions in the commons need to be transformed in a way that challenges Hardin’s commons philosophy instead of maintaining it. Adopting a new commons framework will address the tragedies occurring in both private and open access spaces by addressing the social institutions that regulate our behavior and relationship patterns. 2.3 Critiques of Hardin The most critical shortcoming of Hardin’s argument is his entirely anthropocentric and apolitical analysis, which places sole blame on the individuals in the pasture. These oversights reduce the opportunities for collective and collaborative action by limiting the number of ways one can engage with the pasture. Hardin defined sustainability solely on human interests, neglecting the other species living in and sustaining the pasture. Positioning human interest as the benchmark of sustainability is problematic as human bodies are not discrete entities. Yet in order for Hardin's tragedy to be feasible, it requires humans to be conceptually separated from the other-than-human world. The pasture must remain discrete from surrounding ecosystems for Hardin’s model to produce the results he hypothesized. Human exceptionalism has been perpetuated for centuries, but the reality is that humans would not be able to exist on this planet without other watery bodies, and no life would be able to exist without the global 19 oceans. As humans depend on the smallest species in the sea, the phytoplankton who produce half the oxygen we breathe, the interconnection between humans and marine species can no longer be overlooked. The multitude of ways humans are entangled in networks of human and other-than-human actors in the global oceans should be illuminated in a way that fosters collaboration at a scale large enough to capture, and preserve, the ocean’s social and ecological features. As Hardin’s conclusion is rooted in individual ethical change, he neglects to consider the impact of local or national governance that helps create or change the social institutions guiding individual action. This oversight causes “many [to] argue that his conclusions are skewed because his analysis is apolitical,” even by those who accept his underlying logic (Webster 2). While individuals are the ones physically engaging with the commons, the social and political systems in place often influence individual action and engagement in the commons. Instead of looking for uniform solutions, Elinor Ostrom suggests that solutions will vary depending on the cultural landscape of a place. “Instead of presuming that the individuals sharing a commons are inevitably caught in a trap which they cannot escape, [Ostrom] argue[s] that the capacity of individuals to extricate themselves from various types of dilemma situations varies from situation to situation” (Governing the Commons 14). With a common resource as large as the ocean, applying Hardin’s stagnant commons framework is troublesome. The ocean is a dynamic socio-ecological force and when a stagnant model is placed over it, a disjunctive relationship forms between practice and theory. What is needed is a new commons model that has the flexibility needed for adaption built into it. 20 Hardin’s model allows blame to be placed solely on the locals for their inability to sustainably manage their common-pool resources. Ostrom urges us instead to look past the individual to the social and political systems that influence both individual and collective action. For example, if one were to look at commons regulation in medieval England, overgrazing “was actually driven by economic development, technological change, and the resultant appropriation of the commons by powerful outsider elites who had little interest in maintaining the resource, rather than by competition among local users” (Webster 2). These problems were not exclusive to the Middle Ages. Commons are connected through networks of relationships, some tangible and others intangible but both exerting significant influence. What manifests in the pasture is the culmination of these relationships. 2.3.1 Group Dynamics The tragedy in Hardin’s commons occurs when all actors prioritize individual self-interest. However, when a group forms, the social dynamics change. Ostrom explores these changing dynamics through Mancur Olson’ the Logic of Collective Action. Olson’s logic is rooted in the finding that persuading individuals to pursue shared interest is more of a challenge than persuading them to pursue individual welfare. Olson develops his logic of collective action “to challenge the grand optimism expressed in group theory: that individuals with common interests would voluntarily act so as to try to further those interests” (Ostrom Governing the Commons 5). In other words, Olson opposed the leading concept that individuals who are part of a group are likely to act in a way that supports their groups’ interests. Shared interest among group members is not 21 likely to sway individual self-interest. An individual will not voluntarily produce, or support, collective benefits, especially when there is the potential to be what Ostrom calls a “free-rider.” Ostrom defines a free-rider as a person who capitalizes on the fact they don’t have to participate to receive the benefit of collective action (Governing the Commons 6). Ostrom is doubtful that a successful commons could exist if the temptation to become a free-rider is there. The possibility of a free-ride will disrupt collective decision-making progress and negatively impact the common good. The opportunity for a free ride disincentives individuals who might otherwise be motivated to contribute to the common good. That being said, cooperation between individuals in the commons is possible. In fact, there have been, and currently are, many examples where a commons has operated successfully. Successful cooperation “is often spurred by the social-psychological characteristics of individuals such as innate cooperativeness and deeply held beliefs regarding fairness and equity” (Webster 3). Ostrom suggests the possibility of cooperation where “the herders themselves can make a binding contract to commit themselves to a cooperative strategy that they themselves will work out” (Governing the Commons 15). The herders might develop social contracts, or other contracts, and then voluntarily commit to them. However, the dominant Western social-psychological characteristics, defined as the thoughts, feelings, and behavior, of those involved with the marine commons have not led the successful cooperation in marine spaces. Even if the rights and regulations of a commons are designated and supported by those who are involved with the system, for better or worse, the legislative bodies are the ones who give the commons systems legitimacy. This illuminates the need to reevaluate the political 22 institutions acting in marine spaces along with a change in dominant social-psychological characteristics. 2.4 Charting a New Commons The arrival of the Anthropocene no longer allows for the compartmentalization of our existence. As humans have touched every part of the planet, it is no longer possible to differentiate human interest from that of the sentient and non-sentient beings with whom we share the planet. Hardin’s commons placed humans at the center by establishing the commons exclusively to meet the needs of humans or to further human definitions of sustainable use. As long as humans remain the primary focus in a commons framework, the agency of other-than-human bodies of water will remain in the background. I do not suggest removing humans from the commons framework, but rather to displace the individual human subject from its current position. Hardin’s portrayal of the commons only addresses the value of the material goods the pasture can produce. In his model, the crops and herd determine the value of the pasture. By only focusing on what can be produced from the pasture, Hardin overlooks its intangible values, or what cultural geographers have called its cultural landscape. A cultural landscape is defined as a geographic area, including other-than-human bodies both domestic and wild, associated with tangible and intangible cultural resources. The ecological, historical, religious, lifestyle, and aesthetic values all contribute to the history of the landscape. In the process of reading these landscapes, one can derive meaning from the way natural processes and human history have combined to influence the history of the place. Pierce Lewis identified how reading the cultural landscape “keeps us 23 constantly alert to the world around us, demanding that we pay attention not just to some of the things around us, but all of them—the whole visible world in all of its rich, glorious, messy confusing, ugly and beautiful complexity” (van Papendorp 53). By overlooking the way culture and nature have interwoven to create meaning in the landscape, Hardin’s metaphor allows the pasture to be viewed as discrete. This is a critical oversight as the way we engage with the world is not merely physical. Our biological existence and sense of self are intricately connected to the other-than-human world that surrounds us. However, the ideologies of late capitalism tend to remove the intangible values of landscapes and, as I will later argue, seascapes from our conceptual worldview. By abstracting the intangible values of the landscape, or seascape, I argue Hardin’s commons framework is ineffective in capturing the complete tragedy happening in the global oceans. 2.4.1 No Technical Solutions Hardin's article focuses on what he calls “no technical solution problems” (1243). For Hardin, a problem with “no technical solution” is one that doesn’t have a clear, or fixed solution. In his words, “a technical solution may be defined as one that requires a change only in the techniques of the natural sciences, demanding little or nothing in the way of change in human values or ideas of morality” (1243). He suggests if a problem can’t be solved by natural sciences, then the problem must be solved by changing human values. Hardin’s response focuses on the individual’s values but, by his apolitical approach, overlooks how social dynamics influence individual values. Hardin’s “no technical solution” problems most closely resemble what social 24 policy scholars refer to as “wicked problems.” Wicked problems are problems that are challenging due to their interlocking social, political, economic, and ecological complexities. Since Horst W. Rittel and Melvin M. Webber’s first conceptualization of “wicked problems,” the term “super wicked” has been developed as a way classify current global environmental problems—like climate change (Levin et al.). Super wicked problems are defined by four key characteristics: “time is running out; those who cause the problem also seek to provide a solution; the central authority needed to address them is weak or non-existent; and irrational discounting occurs that pushes responses into the future” (Levin et al. 124). In marine spaces, central international bodies have not been able to foster collaborative efforts that work across differences. Nor have those causing the problem. There is a significant discounting as impacts are often invisible from the surface. That discounting continues through the use of perpetuated idioms. While the degradation of the global oceans can be defined as a problem with no technical solution, defining it as a super wicked problem would be more accurate. As a result, this changes the way we engage with marine spaces. Like problems with “no technical solutions,” wicked and super wicked problems cannot be solved without addressing human values or ideas. Yet a solution to the crisis facing the global oceans requires more than addressing a single, discrete community. Developing solutions to marine degradation will need to occur at multiple levels and from across multiple fields including the social, political, economic, and ecological sectors. In order for this collaboration to succeed, a shared set of values is needed as it is clear the oceans are not immune to the persuasiveness of individual self-interest. Hardin’s model predicts that no one will voluntarily change their behavior. It 25 predicts failure. However, these predictions are situated in a simplified and isolated example of the commons. These types of models don’t necessarily translate to larger, more complex systems, like the global oceans. Governance over the global oceans is far more complicated than Hardin’s apolitical pasture. Local, national, and international policies engaged in the collective maritime resource. For the past two decades, commons scholars have been shifting away from expectations of failure, and towards grounded studies of the commons operating as a success. Successful commons are not revolutionary as humans have been self-regulating the commons since the beginning of human history. However, commons scholars have developed “theoretically grounded and empirically tested explanations of the conditions under which” a commons is likely to succeed (Schlager 146). Examples of successful commons exist around us, and as we search for ways to navigate through the Anthropocene, these examples have become more relevant and necessary. Hardin’s tragedy of the commons has been applied to many natural resource use problems and continues to influence environmental legislation. Hardin’s commons philosophy has set up an anthropocentric and apolitical model of the commons in Western nations. As a result, this logic has perpetuated the tragedy of the commons in the global oceans instead of preventing it. I question if changing the underlying framework that guides resource management will produce ecologically and socially viable solutions to marine degradation. Adopting a new commons framework, like that of the hydrocommons, challenges us to change our current ethical and political interactions with common-pool resources. CHAPTER 3 THE HYDROCOMMONS The water we encounter, be it through our sink or from the sky, is locked into an interminable cycle. And given that humans are mostly comprised of water, we too are deeply embedded in this cycle. Astrida Neimanis theorizes this interconnection as the hydrocommons. For Neimanis, the hydrocommons is not only about the transfer of water through evaporation, condensation, precipitation, and transpiration, it is also about a transfer of vitality between watery bodies. The hydrocommons does not abandon the concept of the commons but instead turns the conventional commons theory on its head. It is a dynamic way of understanding human relationships to the world around us. The hydrocommons provides a different conceptual model of engagement that opposes the assumptions made in Hardin’s metaphorical commons. By recognizing the human body as a body of water, we can no longer disassociate ourselves from other sentient and non-sentient bodies of water. As water connects all life through the hydrological cycle, the hydrocommons actively works to deconstruct human exceptionalism by illuminating the intersectionality of our existence. As a result, the hydrocommons advocates for a more integrated, reciprocal relationship between bodies of water. If addressing the compounding damage happening in marine spaces through 27 international regulation is insufficient to prevent or remedy the tragedy of the commons in the ocean, then as Hardin suggested, the solution must be rooted in a change of human values. The hydrocommons is one way to precipitate an epistemological shift in our environmental thinking, one that illuminates similarities across differences, and disrupts the dualistic concepts of culture and nature. It pushes humans to wrestle with the abstraction of the ocean from its social and ecological associations. 3.1 Relationality Neimanis explores the hydrocommons through what she calls an onto-logic of amniotics. The amnion "is the innermost membrane that encloses the embryo of a mammal, bird or reptile . . . the amnion facilitates the watery world necessary for the gestation of all life for those creatures that have left water in favor of a terrestrial habitat" (Neimanis 163). In particular, the amnion is something shared between species. As humans are not the only species to reproduce through watery gestation, humans cannot be the sole focus when discussing amnion. Neimanis uses amnion to break away from human exceptionalism at the very beginning of our individual animation. Situating amniotics as an onto-logic illuminates “a common how, where, when, and thanks to whom that seeming disparate beings share” (164). An onto-logic of amniotics does not suggest all watery bodies are the same, but rather shows how bodies of water are connected. For example, just as the amnion establishes the gestational habitat necessary for the proliferation of life in mammals, birds, and reptiles, the ocean creates the gestational habitat needed for all life on earth. In very material ways, humans are connected to the global oceans. The water that 28 comprises 60 to 90 percent of our Being holds traces of the ocean. The salt in our veins is the same salinity as the sea, and half the oxygen we breathe comes from marine species. Even if we don’t physically visit the ocean, the ocean remains a vital component of our gestation and repetition on both an individual and a species level. Contra to the apolitical and anthropocentric focus of Hardin’s model of the commons, Neimanis’ onto-logic invites us to view our bodies as extending past the barriers of our skin to include all the other watery bodies that allow for our existence. Instead of perceiving ourselves as detached entities, the hydrocommons amplifies our embeddedness in the hydrological cycle by insisting upon the ways we are interconnected and indebted to other watery bodies. As such, Neimanis’ decision to use an onto-logic instead of an ontology is intentional. Where an ontology attempts to solve the question of Being2, an onto-logic does not. Rather, an onto-logic is concerned with other material expressions of life, or matter. Exploring our existence through an onto-logic provides the foundation to examine the naturalcultural interconnections we have to other material bodies of water. An onto-logic of amniotics provides a crucial foundation for a new version of the commons, one in which “ethics and politics can . . . improvise from within a sense of being embedded, permeable, and profoundly interconnected with climates, landscapes, and nonhuman lives” (Alaimo 82). The political and ethical improvisation that Alaimo notes can result in policies and arrangements that are more attuned to the Being is a Heideggerian term and its implications lead to Neimanis’ use of an onto-logic. For Heidegger, the fundamental difference between Being and being is the distinction between Heidegger’s ontic and ontological. Heidegger’s ontic is focused on the physicality of beings or entities where the physiological characteristics of something is what defines its existence. Alternatively, the ontological is concerned with the phenomenology of Being. 2 29 fluidity of the global commons in the Anthropocene. An onto-logic also challenges our Western conceptualizations of Being by recognizing the agency of other-than-human entities, materials, and things. While the hydrocommons focuses on the agency of other-than-human watery bodies, actor-theory network broadens that thought to include non-watery bodies and social actors, like cultural norms. In actor-network theory (ANT), Bruno Latour reveals an ontology of things in which no entity is discrete or passive. ANT challenges Western conceptualizations of Being by recognizing the agency of non-sentient entities.3 Actants in the ANT are anything that is a source of action—human, other-than-human, individual or collective (Latour 373). A key insight gained by employing Latour’s ANT is the way human and other-than-human entities have equal roles as actors within a network. As human agency has now become equivalent to a geological force, it is critical to recognize how our agency is “always part of larger cultural and material flows, exchanges, and interactions” (Dürbeck et al. 119). This necessity is conditioned by our tendency to “bracket off non-human materials assuming they have a status which differs from that of the human. So, materials become resources or constraints; they are said to be passive; to be active only when they are mobilized by” a human actor (Callon and Law 168). We see this explicitly in the global oceans. However, the ocean should not be seen as a resource solely for human use or consumption. Instead, it is valuable in and of itself. 3 Questions about agency are important to marine conservation. The more time researchers spend with marine animals, the more they learn about their cognitive capabilities and social structures. Therefore, by limiting our definitions of agency and Being to only humans, we run the risk of overlooking the limiting factors other species are bound by. The lack of knowledge we have about marine species shouldn’t determine if we regard them as Beings or beings. 30 Coupling ANT with the Hydrocommons strengthens the idea that we, as humans, are deeply embedded in an active world. By applying the theoretical insight provided by an onto-logic of amniotics and ANT, the global oceans will no longer be regarded as a resource that is passive. Rather, it will be recognized as an active socio-ecological force that cannot be approached by conventional commons theory. Applying the hydrocommons, informed by an onto-logic of amniotics, and ANT, to resource management can create the flexibility needed to address the social and ecological complexity of the global oceans. Neimanis chooses an onto-logic to show how humans are not detached from other bodies, nor are we the only Beings. Instead, human agency intersects with other bodies of water agency creating a constant flow between the other-than-human, human, and the hydrological cycle. An onto-logic of amniotics provides the opportunity to rethink other-than-human agency and reconstruct our ethical and political relationships to the other-than-human world by illuminating our interconnection. ANT serves as a map of the flows, exchanges, and interactions between watery bodies that the hydrocommons seeks to illuminate. The hydrological cycle flows with human and other-than-human agency, with history and social institutions, and with ecological processes. Recognizing the interdependence of watery actors and actants, along with ecological and social processes, requires a new way of operating in the world. As the hydrocommons seeks to illuminate the material and semiotic ways we are connected to the hydrological cycle, questions about the social cannot be overlooked. By recognizing everything as an actant, ANT allows us to view the world as relational. However, in order to redefine or change social institutions, we must do more than merely recognize the connection between things. Instead, the coupling of an onto-logic of 31 amniotics and ANT provides the theoretical foundation needed for developing a new relational commons framework. 3.1.1 Deconstructing Dualisms Western thought has created a conceptual bifurcation between culture and nature. The hydrocommons works to deconstruct that bifurcation by illuminating the way human bodies exist at the intersection between nature and culture: “Our own bodies, which are primarily composed of water, elucidate the problem of thinking about bodies in binaristic terms as either ‘natural’ or cultural” (Neimanis 161). Culture for Neimanis refers to our metaphysical existence, whereas nature refers to our unconscious, biological function. There is no denying the biological need humans have for water. Water is the foundational building material for every cell in our body. It regulates our internal temperatures, metabolizes our food, and amongst other life proliferating functions, water protects the most precious parts of our bodies like our brain and prenatal body. However, this biological need is embedded in a cultural web of social, political, and ethical meanings. In other words, the ways we interact with water are through a politics of identity. For Neimanis, our bodies are the physical representation of the blurred boundaries between nature and culture. Instead of addressing these two terms separately, Neimanis uses the term “naturalcultural” when describing human bodies of water to show how humans exist at the intersection of the ecological and social spheres (Neimanis 170). Recognizing humans as naturalcultural has the potential to profoundly change Western human relationships to the ocean to show how we “are intimately bound up, both 32 physiologically and semiotically, in our wateriness” (Neimanis 177). Neimanis develops naturalcultural from Donna Haraway’s expression of natureculture—which Haraway adopted from Bruno Latour. Haraway uses natureculture as a way to describe something that is not merely cultural or merely natural. Rather, natureculture is used to show how cultural and natural values are interwoven to create meaning. That is not to say nature and culture transform into a homogenous mass. Both nature and culture maintain their integrity in this weaving, pointing to the way nature and culture have co-evolved. By describing human bodies as “naturalcultural,” Neimanis is highlighting the ways in which we are the material manifestation of our cultural and natural histories. Even in instances where culture and nature might be at odds or interfere with the other, this friction is also a part of the creation process. Due to of the salience of Hardin’s metaphor, modern legislation caters to national and international organizations’ needs rather than the individual (Yeager 525). Neglecting to involve the individual, especially in MPAs, results in designations that are biologically successful, but social failures. Instead, building designations off a hydrocommons framework can directly engage the individual and highlight “the reality that human-environmental engagements are composed of shifting and mutually constitutive processes, rather than the more static and fixed relations” (Strang 186). By Hardin’s apolitical analysis, he assumes the relationship the herders have to the pasture is static, or unlikely to change. The hydrocommons provides a more fluid theoretical framework that recognizes the networks of relationships, both biological and cultural, with which our bodies are intertwined. 33 3.2 Self-Interest Rethinking human relationships to other bodies of water through the onto-logic of amniotics can help us reconsider the massive stressors placed on the global oceans by changing our definition of self-interest. In the hydrocommons, “we must acknowledge that our bodies are active, productive and integral aspects of whatever commons we seek to cultivate” (Neimanis 178). As a part of the commons, our bodies correspondingly have a responsibility to that commons. Hardin’s pasture is conceptually connected to a defense of liberal individualism where self-interest pertains to the individual directly and exclusively. However, by embedding human bodies in the hydrocommons, what is considered self-interest needs to be redefined. No longer is self-interest defined by what can be produced for humans, but rather our self-interest is tied to the well-being of other bodies in the commons. The hydrocommons removes humans from the top of the pyramid and places us in the middle of a cyclical relationship where all bodies of water are needed to sustain and nurture each other. This relationship extends to include even the most remote parts of ocean. The ocean is often discounted in Western thought. However, if the ocean is recognized as the source of planetary gestation and reproduction, then we realize we are not disconnected from the ocean even when we physically aren’t on or by it. If the solution to the crisis happening in the ocean is rooted in human morals and values, as Hardin suggests, then the underlying question becomes: What are the social and political responses required of humans in the hydrocommons? 34 3.3 Redefining the Commons Neimanis’ hydrocommons is useful for re-materializing human relationships to the sea. Thinking of human bodies as bodies of water can provide “a key opening for embodied radicalization of the commons more broadly” (Neimanis 176). How the hydrocommons embraces all bodies of water regardless of geographic location better represents humanity’s connection to the ocean rather than conventional commons theory. It no longer allows for the abstraction of the ocean from our understanding of ourselves or our other-than-human surroundings. It amplifies the ways humans are connected to the ocean, even when if we live hundreds of miles away. Understanding our bodies as bodies of water through an onto-logic of amniotics can help us think about how to cultivate an ethics of interbeing, that we are neither discrete nor disconnected from the rest of the world. Instead, we are entangled in an intricate network of relationships. Thinking of the ocean as a part of the hydrocommons has the potential to challenge current models of engagement and foster new connections to our watery world. Instead of allowing externalized costs to be borne by the sea, or letting those costs escape conscious recognition as soon as they are submerged, the hydrocommons challenges us to acknowledge our impact, and then reckon with it. As humans are not discrete, our bodies represent “the global commons that we seek to build” (Neimanis 177). Recognizing our naturalcultural bodies as the physical representation of a global commons can redefine the responsibilities Western society has to the other-than-human world. The hydrocommons considers both the natural and cultural components of bodies of water, be it a human body or the ocean. This challenges us to develop policies that recognize and consider the cultural and spiritual use of the 35 oceans instead of focusing solely its ecological or economic use. 3.3.1 Implications for Marine Conservation Patricia Yeager argues that modern legislation caters to national and international organizations’ needs rather than the individuals as “it still hews to the maritime industry’s financial interests” (Yeager 525). For example, the “modern law of the sea is rooted in the expansion of European maritime state powers” (Caron 25). Drafting or implementing legislation to address financial interests or support national autonomy on the ocean marginalizes and abstracts the other ways people engage with the ocean. Parallel to marine management favoring the tangible or extractable resources, “MPA research and the resultant literature is generally lacking detailed accounts of the social implications of MPAs and the activities associated with them such as fishing, recreational diving, tourism, and research” (Christie 155). Patrick Christie argues this lack of research leads to two conditions: an incomplete understanding of how to effectively utilize MPAs and the omission of human responses to MPAs in literature (Christie 155). As a result, “a boundaried, primarily economic view of water resources continues to dominate policy and decision-making, while more fluid and inclusive perspectives are consistently marginalized” (Strang 206). Often those fluid and inclusive perspectives are those of local communities, which means that “ordinary folks have little say about maritime preservation or management” (Yeager 525). As a result, disjunctive MPA designations are implemented and later destabilized by lack of community support. By using failing or vulnerable MPA designations in the Philippines and Indonesia as examples, Christie demonstrates how MPA designations depend on the support of local communities (156). 36 This is representative of a larger trend in failing designations across the globe. As long as ordinary folks are left out of the designation process, “MPAs are likely to continue to have high failure rates” (Christie 162). The connection between social support and MPA success is not confined to the Pacific. Overlooking the socio-economic impacts is representative of a current trend in MPAs designations across the globe. At the same time, it could be argued that “ordinary folks” have the most to lose in the tragedy of the oceans as subsistence fishers most directly experience the impacts of overfishing, and of the destruction of culturally significant places are being threatened or destroyed. However, culturally significant places do not need to be directly adjacent to human populations. For example, Palau’s Rock Islands Southern Lagoon is comprised of mushroom-shaped limestone islands rising out of turquoise marine lagoons and is surrounded by a complex reef system that is home to rich numbers of biodiversity. This ecosystem supports diverse populations of endemic and endangered species while bearing witness to island communities of the past (Rock Islands Southern Lagoon). While Palauans might not visit these uninhabited islands often, “the descendants of the people who moved from the Rock Islands to the main islands of Palau [still] identify with their ancestral islands” (Rock Islands Southern Lagoon). The villages on the islands were abandoned in the 17th and 18th century, yet they remain culturally significant. Other examples of culturally important remote places include shipwrecks, sailing routes, and fishing grounds. 37 3.3.2. Locality Since marine conservation is a broad field, current solutions and treaties to prevent or reduce marine crises are often species or ecosystem-based. While this approach cognitively anchors the often-abstract theories and ideas involved in marine conservation, it also fragments efforts. What is missing is a stronger sense of unity. Just as degradation issues compound in the sea, conservation efforts can also build on and support each other to produce more effective and holistic solutions, like MPAs. To produce genuinely sustainable MPAs, future designations will need to balance the natural and cultural significance of marine spaces. One way to do this is by MPA designations that are driven by the material practices of local communities. Accepting locally driven action directly acknowledges the responsibility local communities have to sustainably manage their marine resource, not only for their benefit but for the global collective as marine resources are a global network. This is not to place sole responsibility on communities along the shore, but rather illuminate the significance of local communities even when discussing regional and international regulations. There is a large body of evidence that illustrates how local management practices are more effective than “centralized and privatized systems” (Neimanis 175). For Neimanis, the commons paradigm works when the local community is responsible for management as they are the ones who are “best equipped to appreciate the unique qualities of water—its flowing nature, its essential role in the ecosystem, its important cultural and spiritual dimensions” (175). If the local is not accounted for, resources can be dislocated from the physical place, which is consistent with capitalist economics that often disembodies resources from their material and cognitive places (Strang 194). Operating under the 38 hydrocommons framework can challenge capitalist logic and empower each community to use their resources in ways that will fulfill themselves physically and culturally without losing sight of global efforts. 3.4 Moving from Theory to Practice I don’t dispute the relevance of Garret Hardin’s tragedy of the commons. Instead, I suggest his metaphor has reached its limits in regard to the global oceans. If marine conservation is to enact significant change, a comprehensive representation of the marine tragedy is needed. I argue the complete tragedy happening in the global oceans is not captured by Hardin’s metaphor. Globally, we are at a crucial moment in marine conservation where significant progress can be made. However, to do so will require creating, or refining, our social and political institutions. The hydrocommons provides a new relational framework in which we don’t need to look further than ourselves for direction as our material bodies represent the naturalcultural significance of the ocean. Recognizing the innate connection humans have to the ocean through the hydrocommons redefines the oceans as a common life-force instead of a common resource. The constructed binary between nature and culture has allowed for the ocean to be dislocated from its position as a socio-ecological force. “One of the key reasons for separating culture from nature is to provide an illusion of fixity and permanence” (Strang 193). This idea of permanence is necessary for Hardin’s commons but is not necessary for the hydrocommons. At its core, the hydrocommons is a dynamic system. It embodies the material characteristics of water like “flow, permeation, movement, and change,” which illustrates “the reality that human-environmental engagements are composed of 39 shifting and mutually constitutive processes” (Strang 186). Hardin illuminated that thinking of shared interests isn’t necessarily a given or human’s first instinct. However shared interest is required for a commons to operate successfully. Shared interest, however, is not confined to only human bodies. The awareness provided by an ontologic of amniotics and the ANT helps us recognize that in a commons area, there can be many actants with equal agency inflecting how the commons operate. In this section, I have hypothesized how the hydrocommons might influence marine conservation. However, this theoretical discussion leaves one asking what the tangible results from are adopting the hydrocommons framework. To answer, I suggest hydrocommons informed marine conservation would look similar to Palau’s recent MPA designation. In the following chapter, I will provide an overview of Palau’s marine tenure and show how Palau’s social and political institutions are more aligned with the hydrocommons than with Hardin’s pasture. CHAPTER 4 PALAU The Republic of Palau is an archipelago of over 500 islands, of which only 12 are inhabited. Palau's total land area is 444 square kilometers and is blanketed by an exclusive economic zone (EEZ) of 629,000 square kilometers (Friedman and Golbuu 51). The republic expands over 700 kilometers from the northernmost point to the southernmost point and is situated at the western end of Oceania's sub-region of Micronesia. Palau rests above the converging boundaries of the Pacific and Philippine tectonic plates. This subduction, along with the archipelago's volcanic origins, has produced abundant, shallow reefs and lagoons as well as some of the deepest areas of open water on the planet (Friedman and Golbuu 51). This geophysical diversity makes the Palauan islands some of the most species diverse in Oceania (Friedman and Golbuu 51). But it isn't just Palau's geophysical characteristics that support diverse marine ecosystems: "Three ocean currents converge in Palau's waters, bringing diversity to coastal marine habitats dominated by coral reefs" (Friedman and Golbuu 53). This ecological combination creates a hotspot for biodiversity with “the most diverse coral reef fauna in Micronesia" (Gruby and Basurto 51). Nevertheless, due to increasing pressures from compounding stressors—like acidification, pollution, and overfishing—on marine spaces, those diverse ecosystems are at risk, leading some to describe Palau as 41 being in the "epicenter of the current global extinction crisis" (Gruby and Basurto 51). On October 28, 2015, President Tommy E. Remengesau Jr. signed the revolutionary Palau National Marine Sanctuary Act (PNMS) to address the marine crisis Palau is facing. PNMS creates a no-take sanctuary in 80 percent of Palau’s exclusive economic zone (EEZ). The remaining 20 percent of Palau’s EEZ is considered to be a domestic fishing zone where traditional, subsistence, and other domestic fishing uses are allowed to take place. The fish caught by local activities must be sold in domestic markets, thus, keeping the benefits of the MPA close to the republic. PNMS has brought elected and traditional leaders together to support Palau’s designation of one of the largest MPAs in the world for the welfare of Palauans, and the global oceans as a whole. I do not claim to speak for the Palauan people. Instead, I build my case study on the statements expressed and actions taken by Palauans. 4.1 Social Relationships Palauans have always held the ocean in high regard. They believe the ocean "is the fabric of unity upon which we have woven individual and collective relationships and agreements on sustainable development, now and into the future" (Palau Declaration). For Palau, and for many other communities in the Pacific, life is innately tied to the ocean. Therefore, conversations about the ocean cannot be removed from conversations about the well-being of people. Palau’s relationship to marine fisheries, and the 42 ecosystems that support those fisheries, is one of utmost importance 4. Coastal fisheries, predominantly reefs, support Palauans at subsistence levels by maintaining the domestic food supply. Nearly all households are involved in coastal fishing activities (Gruby and Basurto 51). "At least 25 percent of households [in Palau’s 21,000 population] own fishing boats, and through the extended family system more fishers have access to boats" (Friedman and Golbuu 54). While inshore fishing is critical to Palau's domestic food supply, deep-water fishing is also essential for subsistence and small-scale fishing (Friedman and Golbuu 53). Subsistence fishing in Palau utilizes simple techniques like hook-and-line fishing or spearfishing. This is a stark comparison to the international, predominantly Japanese, tuna vessels that dominate Palau’s offshore fishery. By selling fishing rights, consistent with other attempts at privatizing the ocean, Palau brings in millions of United States dollars in revenue from these vessels (Gruby et al. 426). However, the majority of fish caught by these vessels are sold overseas with only minimal low-quality fish reaching the Palauan market. Largely due to international pressures, fisheries in Palau began to decline. Communities were the ones who first “noted a decline in the abundance and size of target species as a result of overexploitation and development" (Friedman and Golbuu 51). One specific event that cultivated significant awareness of the risks facing Palauan waters was the bleaching event of 1998. As a result of the El Niño that year, soft and hard coral bleaching decimated 30 percent of Palau's reefs in a single season. This event received 4 Palauans rely on marine spaces for the ecosystem services they provide including “protection from storms, food provisioning, perpetuation of cultural practices, and revenue from tourism" (Friedlander et al. 2). 43 local and national attention and later inspired the government to develop and implement the Protected Area Network (PAN) Act—a landmark act I will elaborate on later in this chapter. Palauans saw firsthand how one season could wreak havoc on an ecosystem. Instead of letting this event cripple conservation efforts, Palauans used it as a way to connect with their roots. They saw blending "traditional approaches with modern scientific advances as the way forward to crafting effective measures to save our oceans," said Noah Idechong, environmental activist and former chief of Palau’s Division of Marine Resources (Idechong statement). 4.1.1 Customary Marine Tenure Palau’s marine health and human well-being are interconnected. Therefore, the effects of economic development, population growth, and climate change are jeopardizing both the marine ecosystems and social relationships in Palau. Like with “many Pacific Island nations, independence has contributed to the erosion of traditional tenure and management systems” (Graham and Idechong 143). Prior to colonial contact, customary leaders and kin groups managed marine resources. Throughout Palau’s history, local leaders, largely chiefs, have monitored the health of fisheries and marine ecosystems. When the depletion of a marine resource was recognized, communities and customary leadership responded by decreasing current use of the marine space for future gain by implementing bul. The traditional approach to marine conservation, bul, allowed for specific areas to be closed to fishing to allow the species in those areas to spawn, or otherwise recover from overexploitation. The village rubak, or chiefs, had authority of their community’s 44 inshore fishing grounds. In those spaces, they would establish bul to help maintain resources at the local level (Friedman and Golbuu 59). Bul was temporary and allowed fishing activities to resume after the area had recovered. In other words, bul was a localized and adaptive form of marine resource management that was based on customary knowledge and practice. What resulted was a decentralized commons framework that could “adapt to fluctuating resource ability and to changing social and economic situations” (Graham and Idechong 146). The decentralized nature of bul and community resource users’ engagement created room for more suitable management specific to the community’s cultural landscape.5 Resource users, both individual and collective, in Palau have been self-organizing and self-regulating through bul. However, bul was not only the primary form of marine conservation, it was also a cultural practice that aided in community building. The strong sense of community inspired the collaboration between resource users in each village. That unity is also what allowed for the subsequent self-regulation by users. The decentralized nature of bul sanctioned strong beluu (village) control over marine resources (Friedman and Golbuu 59). In other words, bul gave resource users a high level of self-government with authority to make collective decisions about rules, regulations, and use of marine resources. We can see the effectiveness of Palauan selfgovernance in the way Palauan fishers successfully governed themselves in a way that not only complied with the bul designations but in the way bul restricted action at a 5 Due to the direct and indirect use of marine resources, Palau could be seen as a community of marine resource owner/users. In this thesis, I define resource users as those who rely on oceanic spaces, both species and systems, to support their way of life. 45 higher level than other reserves in the Pacific (Friedman and Golbuu 64). The bul establishment process fostered community engagement because it was a shared, communal activity. In the process, community members had to communicate among themselves effectively as a way to address their concerns and to recognize the areas that needed to be protected. This communication among community members created an intergenerational relationship where the community learned from one another. Ultimately it was this relationship that led to the organization of collaborative conservation efforts. The community's involvement became its most potent defense against shifting baseline syndrome, or the conditions by which cognitive reference points are not successfully passed from one generation to the next. In other words, shifting baselines happens when one generation uses their lived experience as a baseline instead of comparing their experiences to that of previous generations. As a result, perceived ecological change varies from generation to generation, leaving the next generation with a skewed understanding of either resource or ecosystem decline. The decentralized nature of Palau’s customary marine tenure allowed for management to apply the ecological knowledge the community had developed after generations of interacting with the same resources. Marine conservation has a tendency to “focus on quantification, and modeling does not allow for adequate attention to historical context” (Campbell et al. n.p.). Without historical context, the way science and nature are “context-dependent cultural constructs” is abstracted (van Sittert 107 qt. in Campbell et al. n.p.). Due to the close intergenerational relationship in Palauan villages, communities were able to avoid shifting baseline syndrome. Instead, community members were able to recognize when 46 fisheries were exploited past sustainable levels at consistent standards between generations. As a result, Palauans were able to identify when fish catches had become three times smaller than they were in years prior instead of allowing for the gradual decline in fish catches (Friedman and Golbuu 64). Customary Palauan leaders built a setting where trust and reciprocity allowed for the emergence of MPAs that could be sustained and supported. These actions were initiated at the local level, without the influence or control of external authorities as required by conventional commons theory. Palau’s early marine tenure history serves as another example that shows how the commons can operate as a success. 4.2 Political Structure Palau's constitutional government was established in 1981 when they declared independence from the United States—who had taken Palau from the Japanese in World War II (Friedman and Golbuu 61). Palau maintains a voluntary political association with the United States which, as a result, has led Palau to adopt several United States' patterns of governing. Palau's national government system consists of "an executive branch, a bicameral congress [referred to as Olbill Era Kelulau (OEK)], and judiciary as well as 16 state governments each ruled by a constitution, elected governor, and legislature" (Gruby and Basurto 52). The Executive Branch includes the President, Tommy Remengesau Jr., Vice President and the Council of Chiefs. The council of chiefs is “composed of one traditional leader from each of the Republic’s states,” and “advises the President on matters concerning traditional laws, customs, and their relationship to the constitution and the laws of Palau” (Council of Chiefs). 47 Customary rules and practices are delimited by the constitution but remain viable processes for rulemaking (Graham and Idechong 160). This has caused an increasing number of customary rules and practices, like bul, to be implemented under the current legal system. Where Palau's political structure diverges from U.S. ideals is the value placed on traditional leadership. Each state has incorporated customary authorities into their governance systems and has given them authority to maintain customary marine resource management (Graham and Idechong). Palau’s constitution, based on United States ideals, allows for states to enact and enforce laws, which provides the foundation for legislated protected areas. Most "states are small communities comprised of a few hundred people from historically unified social and political units" (Gruby and Basurto 51). Palau's constitution gives these cohesive states ownership of the ocean space and resources 12 miles out from shore and designates responsibility to the states to claim and manage their marine resources (Gruby and Basurto). As a result, many of the republic's MPAs have been produced from a community-driven action, the majority being " designated to address local concerns regarding decreased commercial fish populations, and to manage the needs of tourism effectively" (Friedman and Golbuu 54). State-focused designations appeal to individuals in the sense that individuals have a vested interest in their local reefs, lagoons, and other marine ecosystems. However, it isn’t just states involved in MPA designations. Communities, nongovernmental organizations, and the national government have all been involved in the implementation of MPAs to preserve and protect Palau’s marine resources. Palau’s local action is coupled with their involvement with international treaties. Palau has signed the 48 South Pacific Regional Environmental Convention and the Convention on Biological Diversity, is a member of the Convention on International Trade in Endangered Species (CITES), and is part of the Global Island Partnership amongst others (Friedman and Golbuu 62). It is unclear how much this international legislation is driving MPA designation in Palau, but they are "undoubtedly helping support the process of management" (Friedman and Golbuu 62). In a statement at the 23rd Conference of the Parties (COP23), Palau’s President Tommy E. Remengesau Jr. noted it is “only through real partnerships at every level can we implement the [Sustainable Development Goals] in our generation to transform the world. Only through partnerships can we hope to realize the promise of the future we want—a future we need for our children and all the generations to come” (Remengesau Jr. statement 15 Nov. 2017). These partnerships aren’t constrained to state or national boundaries, but rather need to happen at every level from the community level to the international stage. Polycentric systems support these types of partnerships. Polycentric systems are “complex form of governance with multiple centers of semiautonomous decision making” (Carlisle and Gruby 1). They operate through multiple levels of decision-making that are formally independent exist, but “function in a coherent manner” (Ostrom 552). 4.3 Protected Area Network In order to recognize the significance of PNMS, it is essential to look at the Republic’s history as Palau’s rich heritage of marine conservation has informed the designation. Since the early 1990s, Palau has been advocating for and implementing 49 MPAs. This wave of designations began in 1991 when the government of Palau passed the National Heritage Reserve Systems Act. Through the act, a MPA could pass the designation process, if it fit into one, or more, of four classifications—a national heritage area, national heritage preserve, national heritage reserve, or a special management area (Friedman and Golbuu 56). Through the Heritage Reserve System Act, MPA designations were primarily driven by community support and concern for locally significant marine spaces consistent with bul. The Marine Protection Act of 1994 followed shortly. It restricted destructive fishing methods but was not ultimately effective in deterring marine resource depletion. The four MPA classifications established through the National Heritage Reserve Systems Act were later reduced to two when the Protected Areas Network (PAN) Act was implemented in 2003 (Friedman and Golbuu 64). Under the PAN, MPAs can be placed into either a management category or a use category. The management category includes MPAs that follow guidelines developed by international organizations, like the International Union for Conservation of Nature (IUCN) (Friedman and Golbuu 56). Wilderness areas, nature reserves protected for scientific purposes, and other conservation-focused designations would fall into the management category. On the other hand, MPAs classified as “use” are focused on both extractive and non-extractive use at both the local and national levels. While PAN includes both terrestrial and marine areas, I have chosen to focus on the marine components of the PAN. The marine elements of PAN consist of a network of MPAs within Palau's EEZ. Through PAN, states can nominate new and pre-existing conservation areas to add to the national network. Once an area is accepted, the state follows the Ministry of 50 Resources and Development's recommendations and consultation with stakeholders from the potential technical and financial sectors (Gruby and Basurto 55). What is significant about PAN, as opposed to individual designations, is PAN's recognition that ecological and political boundaries are often in direct conflict with each other. The development of PAN drew on systems thinking and resilience theory to address the mismatch between governance and the spatial scale of ecological processes (Gruby and Basurto 54). PAN architects recognized that "maintaining ecological connectivity, representation, and resilience required governing at larger spatial scales than individual state territories" (Gruby and Basurto 54). 4.3.1 Restructure Before PAN, Palau was a polycentric regime. Colonial powers “replaced the village-based tenure systems with common property regimes under the control of central governments” that pushed customary authorities out of that governmental system (Graham and Idechong 147). This shift in control remained visible in the first passing of PAN. PAN restructured Palau’s polycentric system of marine tenure "to facilitate a more active role for national government and NGOs," or towards a more centralized government system (Gruby and Basurto 54). This allowed individuals and organizations who are not directly engaging with the marine spaces to influence rules and regulations without taking total control of the legislation. External actors, who didn’t have property rights, were skeptical of Palau’s decentralized control (Gruby and Basurto 58). These external actors "rescaled a relatively decentralized, polycentric marine governance regime primarily because they felt that the existing regime did not and could not adequately 51 conserve marine biodiversity" (Gruby and Basurto 58). States and villages were skeptical of the power given to the national government and NGOs in the first passing of PAN—resulting in low amounts of community support. Some perceived PAN as increasing the "rule-making authority of non-local actors; prioritized science and written law over local knowledge and oral tradition; and increased their financial dependence" (Gruby and Basurto 56). As a result, many wanted to see traditional leaders take a more active role “so that the traditional and western systems [could] work hand in hand” one Palauan stated (Putney 79). Others identified the ways in which PAN might "limit their ability to design and change conservation area rules in what they referred to as a practical, ‘Palauan’ way" (Gruby and Basurto 57). Static MPA designations are fundamentally different than the Palauan bul, which is malleable and ultimately reversible, resulting in some Palauans perceiving PAN as a homogenized version of bul. It wasn't until the PAN law was amended to give state government more authority of PAN sites that the states began to join the PAN (Gruby and Basurto 55). PAN now allows for different types of management and regulation to be implemented into MPA management depending on the local context. This is an important shift back to customary marine tenure, namely by strengthening village control and ensuring the sustainability of designations. PAN serves as a "framework for Palau's government agencies to collaborate in establishing a resilient nationwide network of terrestrial and marine protected areas" (Friedman and Golbuu 66). By supporting locally protected and managed areas from the national level, PAN is an attempt to balance power between states and the national government in a way that supports holistic MPA designations. 52 While customary authorities lost legal control during colonialization, restructuring marine tenure presents an opportunity for re-empowerment. One of the most significant customary management practices in Palau is village-level control. The use of village ecological knowledge to inform and establish MPAs in the amended version of PAN provides an example of how customary tenure can dovetail Western ideals to strengthen MPA designations. Traditional moratoriums through bul were effective in managing human bodies in Palau’s marine commons. Modern legislation, like the PAN, have subsequently been modeled off traditional ecological knowledge of protection and conservation. The designation of the PNMS continues this legacy. In this way, villagecontrolled marine resource management is therefore not only culturally consistent but also consistent with Palau’s constitution (Graham and Idechong 161). 4.4 Decentralizing Control Questions of autonomy remained even after PAN was amended as foreign vessels still dominated offshore fisheries. Recognizing the threat these vessels created, Palau partnered with communities, scientists, NGOs, and other Pacific nations to improve monitoring and surveillance of Palau’s EEZ. This was one of the first movements toward safeguarding Palau’s entire EEZ. PNMS legislation was first introduced into the OEK in 2013 before President Tommy Remengesau Jr.’s declaration on PNMS at the United Nations General Assembly in 2014 (Kotaro 119). President Remengesau Jr. continued to rally leadership support for the act as it passed through the Senate and House of Delegates. But it wasn’t just leadership that was involved in the process; community support was also a critical focus. 53 Palau’s leadership developed a marine sanctuary campaign with the Pew Charitable Trusts to help pass the PNMS (Kotaro 119). One of the main focuses of that campaign was to engage communities, both from rural villages and populated cities, in conversation about PNMS. Communities supported the initiative and helped drive action on the PNMS bill. For example, during President Remengesau Jr.’s State of the Republic Address in 2015, “community members, women’s organizations, and students graced the Palau National Congress wearing ‘BUL’ t-shirts . . . and holding sights promoting the marine sanctuary” (Kotaro 119). When action wasn’t immediately taken on the PNMS, the community’s growing concern and support for the sanctuary “could not be ignored and became the basis of many discussions in leadership meetings” (Kotaro 119). While the PNMS was being deliberated on—regarding conservation through proposed environmental impact fees and the establishment of visa requirements as a way to alleviate the economic loss from fishing revenue—the act received regional and international support. Neighboring countries, international environmental groups, and subregional fisheries all endorsed the sanctuary initiative. Support for PNMS “is strong throughout Palau and comes from the Rubekul Belau or Council of Chiefs, the State Speakers Association, all 16 state legislatures, the Governors Association, the Belau Tourism Association, the Palau Chamber of Commerce, the Palau Community Action Agency, and more than 7,000 Palauans who have endorsed it via petition” (Palau president). Two years and seven months after PNMS was introduced, President Remengesau Jr. signed it into law. Palauan Senator Hokkons Baules noted how PNMS “will help build a secure future for the Palauan people by honoring the conservation traditions of 54 our past” (Palau president). The PNMS shifted interlinked economic and marine species behavior in a way that allowed Palau to reorganize and reclaim its EEZ in a way that way meaningful and beneficial for its people (Gruby et al. 426). Many Palauans viewed the PNMS as an effort to reclaim Palauan waters from the international fleets that had come to dominate their space and resources and redirect resources for Palauan benefit (Gruby et al. 425). 4.5 A Parable for the Anthropocene Though Palau has been successful in merging traditional and Western governmental frameworks, I do not suggest this collaboration has been entirely harmonious. There have been power struggles between customary and elected leaders as well as between state and national jurisdictions (Graham and Idechong). Disputes between customary and political authorities have limited cooperation between entities and restricted intrastate agreements (Gruby and Basurto 53). In marine spaces, these struggles manifested in the conflict between the national government's capabilities to regulate, and the state's abilities to enact and enforce regulations (Graham and Idechong). President Remengesau Jr. began his speech at COP23 by noting “Palau is under no illusion about the impact one small island nation can have on the planet." However, Palauans do see how their size and resources make them uniquely suited to be an incubator “of new ideas and new approaches” to marine conservation (Remengesau Jr. statement 15 Nov. 2017). Palau’s evolving social relationships, political structure, and international relationships makes Palau a unique case for testing how a different theoretical model of the commons can transform marine conservation initiatives. 55 After Palau's independence, the process of establishing MPAs became more centralized. More generally, most marine resource laws "enacted throughout the Pacific since independence have emphasized national goals and jurisdiction" (Graham and Idechong 154). These laws have strengthened management but have overlooked the role of custom in the management process. Along with the ecological benefits of MPAs, there are significant socio-economic impacts as well. These effects could be either positive or negative depending on how much the local community is considered in the implementation process. MPAs designed without the local community in mind could leave communities disconnected from their cultural ways of life or economic prosperity. In Palau, MPAs directly contribute to the "long-term livelihoods of island people though the strong cultural and economic connections between islanders and the sea as well as their interdependence on a healthy marine environment for survival and prosperity" (Friedlander et al. 2). CHAPTER 5 APPLYING THE HYDROCOMMONS TO RESOURCE MANAGEMENT As marine conservation has been gaining more recognition on the national and international stage, it is important to look at what frameworks are driving MPA designations and regulating our interactions in ocean spaces, and the ethical and political implications of those frameworks. Palau’s National Marine Sanctuary Act (PNMS) is one example of what marine conservation, specifically MPAs, might look like if a different theoretical model of the commons is used. Palau employs a framework that reckons with the impact humans have in the ocean while simultaneously grappling with the limiting factors of the other-than-human world that is more aligned with the hydrocommons than the tragedy of the commons. Incorporating the hydrocommons into resource management challenges the way commons spaces have been conceptually mapped and subsequently protected. By accepting the ways in which we, as humans, are semiotically, physically, and culturally intertwined with the hydrological cycle, the hydrocommons creates space for new ethical and political modes of engagement. The theoretical insights provided by the hydrocommons, represented by Palau’s socio-economic relationships and decentralized institutional agreements, can illustrate the ethical and political requirements of humans in the Anthropocene. 57 5.1 Developing Resource User Agreements Elinor Ostrom argues that resolving commons tragedies requires resource users to work through three issues: supply, commitment, and monitoring (Governing the Commons). The supply issue refers the availability of arrangements, the commitment to those arrangements, and then the reinforcement and regulation of the arrangements. It is the lack of coordination between resource users in the supply, commitment, and monitoring of a common-pool resource that drive the tragedy. Those who are actively involved in creating rules, sanctions, or regulatory measures are more likely to follow and enforce these ideas as coordination is needed to be involved in the process (Schlager). Active involvement is consistent with Neimanis’ assertion that the commons paradigm works when the local community is responsible for management (175). This general framework of supply, commitment, and monitoring has been used to approach commons dilemmas. However, the qualities of each commons dilemma “are themselves conditioned by the larger institutional setting” within which the dilemma is situated (Schlager 153). As it is hard to escape institutional norms and regulations that constrain our day-to-day lives, institutional settings have a significant influence on individual action, indicating that the tragedy of the commons is more conditional and contextual than Hardin described. The institutional setting implemented by colonial contact conditioned the qualities of the marine tragedy in Palau. Western influence pushed Palau's customary marine resource management practices, like bul, toward a more monocentric approach. The difference between customary political systems in the Pacific and Western systems are the socio-political frameworks that support them. Customary political systems in the 58 Pacific consist of decentralized powers coexisting in dynamic relationships (Graham and Idechong 148), whereas Western systems emphasize individual and property rights that are inflexible. Establishing management practices, both customary and Western, in writing, secure these actions in time and space. Establishing customary practices as law created friction as "Palauan custom is anything but certain, general, fixed, and uniform" (Graham and Idechong 150). As Western law requires things to be certain, general, fixed, and uniform customary practices had to be modified in order to be incorporated into the Western legal framework. This largely resulted in traditionally flexible practices, like bul, becoming stagnant. As a precedent, inflexible guidelines run the risk of diluting their ability to adapt to changing circumstances. Commons scholars have found common resource theory to be “contingent (that is, context matters) and configural (that is, the value of one variable depends on the values of the other variables)” (Schlager 153). If humans are accepted as a fundamental part of the commons, as they are in the hydrocommons, the context and values of each variable in the commons shifts. In the hydrocommons, the value of each variable is no longer determined by its monetary value, but rather values can be based on intangible values— like cultural, aesthetic, and spiritual values. In Palau, marine ecosystems were valued for their tangible and intangible values as healthy marine ecosystems “contribute to the longterm livelihoods of island people through the strong cultural and economic connections between islanders and the sea” (Friedlander et al. 2). When these livelihoods or connections were at risk, bul was implemented to protect both tangible and intangible resources. Recognizing these connections allowed for more rounded MPA designations as both the ecological and cultural resources were addressed. 59 The valuation of intangible variables is missing from Hardin’s assertion of the commons as he presents a theory that is neither contingent nor configural. This suggests the need to reassess the importance placed in Hardin’s commons theory in resource management and encourages the implementation of a more inclusive framework—like the hydrocommons. 5.1.1 Commitment Though often leaving many dissatisfied, strong government action and policy prescriptions remain the dominant solution to the tragedy of the commons (Schlager 148). Disappointment often arises from instances where “national governments and centralized bureaucratic agencies intervened, claimed ownership, built extensive infrastructure, or imposed management regimes” (Schlager 149). This happened in Palau when centralized agencies sought to facilitate a stronger role for themselves during the first passing of PAN. Local communities were disappointed by the conservation actions of national and international bureaucratic agencies. The first version of the PAN allowed individuals and organizations who were not directly engaged in the marine spaces to influence rules and regulations. The communities, who had ownership and direct use of local marine resources, felt as if their autonomy had been stripped away in favor of science and written law. Institutional agreements, operating under Western ideals, were unable to satisfy both the local communities and national interests as they produced unequal power dynamics. It was only when the PAN was amended to include state authority that communities were satisfied with the act. What Palau’s marine tenure history suggests is the state-centered policies that 60 dominate responses to the tragedy of the commons need to be challenged and replaced with a more adaptable framework. Patricia Yeager argues that modern legislation caters to national and international organizations’ needs and the “maritime industry’s finical interests,” rather than individuals (Yeager 525). As a result, legislation limits the number of ways resource users can work through supply, commitment, and monitoring of arrangements. The social implications of this type of legislation are seen in Palau. When legislation catering to national and international bodies was implemented, there was limited community support and engagement. As the political, ecological, and cultural meanings of the ocean flow through our physical bodies, as the hydrocommons illuminates, engaging with the ocean merely economically is reductive. For the entire integrity of the oceans to be considered, more fluid and inclusive decision-making processes are required. Alongside the prediction that those directly involved will not be able to remove themselves from the tragedy, conventional commons theory also predicts “no one will voluntarily change behavior” (Ostrom Polycentric systems 551). Instead, “an external authority is required to impose enforceable rules that change the incentives for those involved” (Ostrom Polycentric systems 551). This traditional understanding assumes personal gain will rule our actions unless there is a penalty or other deterrent from acting in individual interest. Palau challenges this by successfully designing and implementing bul. Bul is supported by both an ecological and an ethical perspective, recognizing the needs of humans and other-than-human species. Commons scholars note successful design and implementation of an arrangement is useless without the creditability of enforcement. However, what Palau does is suggest the credibility of enforcement does 61 not have to come from an authoritative entity. Instead, Palau shows how an ethical argument can support the credibility of an arrangement. Instead of relying on single institutional settings to implement conservation and enforce regulations, the hydrocommons displaces Western approaches to governance to allow more bottom-up initiatives, giving them the credibility needed to create significant change. The hydrocommons works through the supply, commitment, and monitoring issues from an ethical and political perspective, but not necessarily from the perspective of higher authorities. By focusing on relationality instead of power hierarchies, the hydrocommons allows for communities to address the daily interchange they have with other-than-human bodies. Further, the hydrocommons creates space for new ethical and political engagements, as was done through bul and the amended PAN. Recognizing the connection between watery bodies opens a network of new relationships that can blossom, and, in turn, creates the opportunity for more collaborative resource management. As humans are not the primary participant in the hydrocommons, this theoretical framework conditions us to think beyond ourselves. While the hydrocommons challenges the relationship humans have with other watery bodies, it also challenges us to reevaluate our relationships with other humans. Both relationships are essential for the commons to operate as a success. These different connections can foster a sense of interbeing that can allow for collaborative involvement in the decision-making process, resulting in more ecologically informed ethics and politics. 62 5.2 Political Agreements If strong government action and policy prescriptions are insufficient in safeguarding the global oceans, then what are the political requirements of humans in the hydrocommons? The hydrocommons requires a multifaceted political framework as the hydrocommons itself is organized around multiple centers. The hydrocommons is a network of relationships comprised of not only different human-interest groups, but also sentient and non-sentient bodies of water. These interlocking connections are based on material relationships, but they are embedded in the social and political realms. Polycentricity is a fundamental concept of commons scholarship and lends itself best to the hydrocommons framework as it can account for the full complexity of commons spaces. Commons scholars developed the concept to analyze collective action problems. Ostrom uses polycentric systems to analyze responses to climate change, which is not mutually exclusive from the tragedy happening in marine spaces. Therefore, her assertions are just as applicable to marine spaces. Ostrom finds: Polycentric systems tend to enhance innovation, learning, adaptation, trustworthiness, levels of cooperation of participants and achievement of more effective, equitable, and sustainable outcomes at multiple scales, even though no institution arrangement can totally eliminate opportunism with respect to the provision and production of collective goods (Ostrom Polycentric systems 552). Scholars have identified several benefits to polycentric governance systems, two of the most significant being increased adaptive capacity and the establishment of management that fits within the institutional framework (Carlisle and Gruby 1). In other words, a polycentric governance system is advantageous because it allows for localized regulations that are produced by the resource users themselves. When resource users have the ability to “craft and adjust their own institutions overtime, [it can] increase the 63 likelihood of those institutions leading to effective, equitable, or sustainable outcomes because they are more likely to be well matched to a particular social-ecological context” (Gruby and Basurto 50). Palau was able to craft and adjust their moratoriums through bul. Since bul designations were temporary, when the social-ecological context changed, the moratoriums could be reversed. However, Palau’s modern history illustrates how even stagnant designations can allow resource users to craft designations to produce effective, equitable, and sustainable MPAs. An example of this is the Ebiil Conservation Area in Palau. The Ebiil reserve was initially distinguished as a reserve by local chiefs. It was later established as a reserve by the Ngarchelong State in 2000 before “pressure from NGOs and community groups ensured that the area was made a permanent conservation area in 2003” (Friedman and Golbuu 61). What resulted from this designation process was a nested management system where the local community promotes conservation of the resource, the state manages the area, and national organizations, like the Palau Conservation Society and the Palau International Coral Reef Center, help monitor use (Friedman and Golbuu 61). What this example illuminates is how incorporating a polycentric governance system into marine conservation can improve the design and impact of MPAs. Incorporating several levels of autonomy to address the social, economic, and cultural values of an ocean space can produce more holistic MPA designations. When resource users have a voice in designing and monitoring MPAs, they can contribute local knowledge that provides new perspectives and strengthens user commitment. PAN demonstrates that it is possible to integrate customary management and ecological knowledge with Western political ideals through a polycentric governance system. 64 Because they allow for multiple perspectives to influence governance, polycentric systems are better able to identify and address social and ecological changes. Similarly, a polycentric system can be tailored to fit local circumstances or the cultural landscape of a place. Palau represents what tailored marine conservation could look like. Palau’s traditional tenure system allowed for stronger local control than the Western ideals that shaped Palau’s constitution. When the first version of the PAN Act passed, the national government and non-government organizations had stronger control over resources. Recognizing this did not fit Palau’s cultural landscape, the PAN was amended to give states more governance authority, which resulted in stronger support for the PAN. Although polycentric systems have multiple levels of decision-making that are formally independent, what is important is that these independent levels “function in a coherent manner” (Ostrom 552). In Palau, decision-making took place at the local, national, and international levels. From bul to Palau’s designated MPAs, “collective choice rules provided rule-making authority for conservation areas to chiefs and state governments, and in some cases, management boards comprising a mix of traditional leaders, state government leaders, and other community members” (Grumby and Bistro 53). These levels ultimately came together to create one of the largest and most sustainable MPAs in the world. What allows these multiple decision-making processes to function coherently is that each level has their regulating norms or rules, which allowed for greater flexibility in management, but also allowed for additional flexibility within each level. 65 5.2.1 Global Political Agreements As the ocean is such an expansive place, there are many ways to engage with marine spaces. One large-scale regulatory body alone will not be able to design and implement policies that account for the range of relationships and values placed on the ocean. While large-scale institutional agreements are necessary and can help hold communities accountable, they should not be the primary form of governance. Instead, adopting a polycentric system of marine governance is important as both small and large institutions are needed for effective management: “Enabling citizens to form smallerscale collective consumption units encourages face-to-face discussion and the achievement of common understanding” (Ostrom 552). This is seen in the way Palauans avoided the shifting baseline syndrome by strong intergenerational relationships. When community knowledge is applied to legislation, what results is a more holistic approach to common-pool resources (CPRs). However, nested management and the governance of larger CPRs remains a critical research frontier (Gruby and Basurto 48). Despite the popularity of polycentric literature, “the systematic development of polycentricity . . . is lacking in the commons scholarships” (Carlisle and Gruby 1). Palau’s political development from pre-colonialization, to Western political control, to independence, demonstrates how polycentric governance systems can develop and evolve. Palau’s history creates a practical avenue to examine the development of a polycentric regime in marine conservation. Palau’s political system, while borrowing some components from Western management styles, challenges the monocentric approaches that dominate current CPR management decision-making. Instead of relying on the national government to designate conservation spaces, the community is equally 66 involved in the designation process. The success of Palau’s’ MPA, as seen by the strong community and international support, maintains the theory that polycentric systems are a valid alternative to the traditional approaches that have dominated the conservation process. Because polycentric systems “enhance innovation, learning, [and] adaptation” they create flexibility for the co-evolution of nature and culture, and the naturalcultural essence of our being (Ostrom 2018 552). A polycentric system fulfills the political requirements of humans in the hydrocommons as both the natural and cultural can be addressed. As the hydrocommons recognizes the semiotic, biological, and cultural connections we have to the ocean, it requires a political system that allows for those connections to not only be recognized but also be included in policy. Just as our human bodies are the manifestation of the culmination of our cultural and natural histories, the same could be said about our political systems. 5.3 Ethical Agreements Accepting human bodies as part of the hydrocommons changes the ethical framework we use to navigate through the world. The hydrocommons require a framework that places importance on the local and the global, human and other-thanhuman. The legal authority held by nation states allows for the designation of MPAs in exclusive economic zones (EEZs), but our responsibility to the global oceans does not stop there. The ethical framework required by the hydrocommons knows no boundaries. Palau’s motivations to establish such a large reserve were not solely based on the benefits it would provide Palauans. Instead, they recognize how protecting their waters 67 will benefit those outside of the designation as well: “Large marine protected areas are critical to allow marine biodiversity to recover and fish stocks to rebound, which has great spillover benefits for the region and the world, helping the oceans to maintain their critical function as an effective carbon sink” (Remengesau Jr. 2015). Palauans not only recognize the ways the ocean creates meaning for their communities, but they also recognize the planetary significance of healthy global oceans. This recognition has regulated the behavior in and out of Palau’s EEZ. The lessons Palauans learned about the fragility of marine ecosystems in the Anthropocene, and the significance one ecosystem can have to a community, shaped the way they operate on the high seas. In a statement to the United Nations, Mr. Noah Idechong, from Palau’s House of Delegates, stated: “while there is much about the deep sea that we do not know, we know enough to understand that everything is connected and that, if left unchecked, it is only a matter of time before the destructiveness of bottom trawling is felt in concrete ways” (Statement to UN). This sentiment represents the same systems-thinking required by the hydrocommons and resembles Latour’s actor-network theory more than Hardin’s discrete pasture. Palau has not only banned the use of bottom trawls in their jurisdiction, but it has also banned any Palauan body or company from using trawls regardless of where they are in the world. By restricting bottom trawling by all Palauans, Palau is operating under a new ethical framework. “This law seeks to protect deep sea fish when they aggregate around seamounts for breeding and feeding and are thus more vulnerable,” Idechong continued (Idechong statement). Recognizing the vulnerabilities of other species and respecting their need to thrive is also a fundamental part of the hydrocommons through the onto-logic of interbeing. Ethics of 68 interbeing recognizes that we are not discrete or disconnected from the rest of the world. Instead, we are entangled in an intricate network of relationships. Although Palauans might not directly feel the impact of bottom trawling in the North Atlantic, they understand the ocean as a planetary system that is not defined by the anthropogenic boundaries placed over it. This thinking is foundational to changing current Western modes of global marine conservation. Palau’s regulatory measures also optimistically show the potential the hydrocommons has in encouraging self-regulation among actors on the high seas to promote more sustainable use. Part of this self-regulation could be attributed to Palau’s worldview. When addressing the United Nations, Idechong noted that Palauans believe “we do not inherit the earth from our parents, we borrow it from our children” (Idechong statement to UN). While this belief is not specific to Palau, it is deeply held by its residents. The same rationale that supports and implements bul also prohibits the use of bottom trawls by Palauan people (Idechong statement to UN). These two laws, one traditional and one modern, shows that Palau has long understood the ocean to be an intricately connected system: a system where one cannot separate the social from the ecological. They are, borrowing Neimanis’s term, naturalcultural. These laws are not ecological nor are they entirely social. Rather they focus on the space in-between these two spheres. The interweaving of natural and cultural significance in Palau’s self-regulation in marine spaces is a powerful example of what it means to be a watery body in the hydrocommons. As common resource theory is both contingent and configural, I do not suggest Palau’s bul is a universal solution. The social, political, and historical context of each place will determine the ethical framework that needs to be implemented. What can be 69 applied universally is the moral agency demonstrated by Palauan communities. Moral agency “can only be experienced and enacted through bodily practices, practices that both implicate and transform the bodies of others” (Weiss 158). Recognizing our material connection to other bodies of water grounds moral agency in water instead of conscious thought. The ethics that emerge from an onto-logic of interbeing can transform our relationships to other bodies of water and establish a moral responsibility to those bodies. As ethics and politics flow into one another, shifting moral responsibility will result in shifting political responsibility as well. 5.3.1 Scale Thinking through the hydrocommons, or thinking beyond humans, “requires enlarged temporal and geographic scales. Yet expanded frames risk emphasizing separations at the expense of material intimacies” (Cohen 10). In order to reduce the risk of perpetuating disjunctive dualisms, scale-shifting is necessary for the hydrocommons, just as it is required in marine conservation. Resource users can provide “local knowledge [that] can inform the design of diverse, context-specific rules, while larger organizations (including but not limited to governments) can enhance local capacity to deal with non-contributors or local tyrants, share and invest in information, and coordinate cross-boundary problems, for example” (Gruby and Basurto 50). Recognizing and respecting local knowledge within the larger contexts of international governance can create relevant and workable policies. Macrolevel governance is important as the global oceans flow into one another. This perspective is necessary to conceptualize the complete dilemma happening in the global oceans. However, this level of governance 70 doesn’t allow for participation by high numbers of actors. High rates of participation are more likely to occur where management practices are localized, or if actors have a direct interest in preserving the designated area. This is easily applicable to communities along the coast. However, I suggest this direct interest can be extended to communities inland through the hydrocommons. When local actors are engaged, the involved parties have more power than is given to them in the traditional tragedy framework. This is important in the global oceans as it is the direct users who will experience the tragedy first, and strongest. What is useful about the hydrocommons is that it primes us for thinking about and seeking other forms of leadership and regulations beyond single institutional agreements. This questioning can open avenues for “ordinary folks” to take leadership roles (Yeager 525). Palau's traditional, decentralized tenure system allowed for the application of stronger village control, specifically, in the way Palau's decentralized tenure systems created space for traditional ecological knowledge to be applied to current management circumstances. The fishers were knowledgeable about the ecosystems and the species that live in the areas they fish. This knowledge is key to the longevity and sustainability of an MPA, either formal or informal: "The sharing of experience and increased communication and empowerment that result from developing and managing one's own marine area is felt not only by fishers but also NGO and state participants" (Friedman and Golbuu 63-64). This intergenerational knowledge about fishery baselines is what management principals are built on. Palau’s community influence in the passing of the PNMS shows how communitybased initiatives are effective ways to foster support for conservation goals. Involving 71 the community in management "decisions will be more relevant, [user] compliance with rules will improve, conflicts will be reduced, enforcement will be less expensive, and economic development paths will be more in line with the desires of people," which will ultimately result in sustainable designations and management (Graham and Idechong 146). In other words, the higher the interest a community has in a resource, the greater incentive they have to optimize the management and use of that resource: "Community involvement is also critical in the sense that enforcement by government agencies is often inadequate" (Friedman and Golbuu 65). Enforcement can be inadequate even when there are regulations in place, yet the government often doesn't have the enforcement capabilities to monitor the entire MPA at any given time—especially in complex marine systems. Therefore, gaining the support from community members is one way to ensure the rules and regulations are being upheld. The distinction between national and state responsibility in marine conservation is important when considering the different viewpoints that inform the MPA designation process. The state's priority is its local ecosystems and local communities, whereas states are interested in how the MPA will impact those in their jurisdiction. On the other hand, the national government can look at Palau in its entirety and identify the connections between state jurisdictions. PAN architects recognized that state and national goals might be different, and "legitimized increased involvement of larger organizational units with scalar narratives articulating incontrovertible relationships among social-ecological processes, scale, and outcomes" (Gruby and Basurto 54). As nothing exists in isolation, it is keen to recognize and address these relationships, or networks, in the designation process. The individual state is not capable of preserving the complete integrity of 72 marine spaces, as these ecosystems extend past state boundaries. The same could be said for nation states. However, what PAN illuminates is the need to look beyond boundaries. The state can recognize the coupling of social and ecological systems and develop management that benefits both in a way that is beneficial to local communities but also fosters conservation outside of the jurisdiction. This collaboration between state and national conservation is crucial to developing management practices that are best for both ecological and social systems. 5.4 Adaptable Action Presenting the decimation of the global oceans as a tragedy of the commons restricts the actions that can be taken to address the degradation. Embracing a new model of commons, like the hydrocommons, shifts towards incorporating a new ethical and political framework by changing the relationship Western nations have to the sea. Polycentric systems provide many benefits but are not a silver bullet. The likelihood of disagreement and conflict between different decision-making levels is likely. However, the flexibility these systems provide can encourage experimentation and adaptation to both ecological and social changes. In Palau, PAN explores how a nested government operates in marine spaces. PAN illuminates how polycentric management is not merely various levels of management interacting. Instead, PAN illuminates a polycentric model focused on who is supplying the agreements, how they are enforced, at what scale, and how those agreements influence both individual and collective autonomy. Individual autonomy is not synonymous with liberal individualism Hardin’s metaphor was founded in. Rather, individual autonomy refers to the 73 individual’s perceived responsibility, connection, and self-efficacy in crafting and adjusting rules. This is important for individuals as “the success of a polycentric system is dependent in part on the ability of resource users to craft and adjust their own rules over time” (Gruby and Basurto 57). The ability of resource users to craft and adjust their rules requires critical reflection on how new actors, interests, and institutions might influence or restrict the autonomy of current resource users. Palau’s incorporation of a nested political system, and self-regulation on the high seas, represents the possibility to expand commons theories to larger communities. Palau's success shows how collective action in the commons is not restricted to small, isolated, and simple landscapes. Rather, Palau’s PAN shows that collective action can be successful in large, complex, and dynamic spaces too. Palau’s MPAs show how size, location, and number of users are not barriers to the designation process or successful implementation. Users were able to come together and engage in collective action through a variety of avenues, showing how collective action does not require a stagnant framework. CHAPTER 6 CONCLUSION Since 2001, there has been considerable scientific consensus on the tremendous ecological benefits of MPAs (National Center for Ecological Analysis and Synthesis). MPAs can protect the critical habitats needed for species to thrive, improve biodiversity, and increase resilience to climate change. However, despite being highly effective, they are an “under-appreciated and under-utilized tool” (National Center for Ecological Analysis and Synthesis 1). Because MPA designations have been focused on a single location, species, or ecosystem, these single designations have created islands of protection, leaving the rest of the ocean unprotected and unregulated. To effectively preserve the integrity of the global oceans, islands of protected areas are insufficient. Instead, we need strategically connected systems of MPAs that protect breeding grounds, feeding grounds, and migration corridors. This cannot be accomplished under the tragedy of the commons framework. The conservation paradigms inspired by Hardin’s framework have produced disjointed efforts that focus on limiting access rather than challenging the current epistemological, ethical, and regulatory systems driving marine degradation. The hydrocommons can encourage more collaborative and effective network of MPAs—like Palau’s PAN and PNMS. Shifting the way we think of MPAs from an isolated solution to a collective effort, we coalesce our collective power to ensure 75 a healthy ocean for current and future generations. Despite scientific consensus and continual research on the ecological benefits of MPAs, “there has been comparatively little research on the political and institutional dimensions thereof” (Gruby and Basurto 49). Institutional dimensions can be defined as the rules, norms, and strategies that structure human interactions (Gruby and Basurto 49). Palau provides an opportunity to research the political and institutional dimensions of an ecologically and socially successful MPA. PNMS was not an overnight process. In the three years preceding the designation, Palauan communities came together to voice their opinions, and to support stronger marine conservation for marine ecosystems, and also for the people. Restricting fishing access for national and international vessels in 80 percent of Palau's waters not only allows for the species to feed and breed without the stressors of fishing traffic and practices, but it also is a significant step towards ensuring food security. Even those who did not support the previous management of MPAs supported the establishment of more (Friedman and Golbuu 60). PNMS will be implemented over the course of five years, to ensure a slow, sustainable transition for local communities. Palau’s marine tenure offers a hopeful antidote that the commons are not always destined to fail. Instead, Palau supports commons scholars’ theory that individuals can still collectively remove themselves from, and ultimately prevent, the tragedy of the commons even in marine spaces. Supported by Western conceptualizations of the ocean, current ethical and political frameworks abstract the ocean from its local and global significance. These conceptualizations remove the ocean from its position as a global life force and reclassify it as a resource that can be exploited. As a result, the tragedy continues. Because marine 76 conservation has gained traction on the global level, represented by the United Nations’ first Ocean Conference in June of 2017, the global community is at a crucial moment to enact positive social and political change to better support marine conservation. Incorporating the hydrocommons into marine conservation can foster more ecologically effective and socially supported MPAs. Further, the hydrocommons has the potential to foster a constructive dialogue between critical environmental theorists and resource management. Instead of letting disciplinary boundaries limit action, the hydrocommons combines critical environmental theory and resource management in a way that dovetails to reinforce sustainable practices. Shifting from theory to grounded, empirical research is a challenge, but the hydrocommons does some of that work for us. Marine conservation in the Anthropocene requires learning from the past and applying that knowledge to a rapidly changing future. Palau does this by weaving customary traditions into modern legislations, and by using Western scientific research to support customary practices. Palau has situated themselves as a global leader in marine conservation with PNMS, their modern-bul. Questions about how to manage and use marine resources equitably will continue to arise as oceanography, marine biology, and other research continues to progress. While these questions are not new, they are exacerbated by the significant changes happening in the global oceans. Policy makers, scientists, communities, and other resource managers all have a role to play in avoiding the tragedy of the commons in the global oceans. Yet disciplinary boundaries have prevented large-scale collaboration. Marine polices typically have focused on individual issues, like endangered species or marine mammals, while others have been focused on industries, like fishing, aquaculture, 77 or transportation. PAN and PNMS represent how marine conservation can be improved when disciplinary boundaries do not become boundaries to action. 6.1 Collective Action, Collective Responses The degradation of the oceans is a global collective-action problem. “Many problems conceptualized as ‘global problems’ are the cumulative result of actions taken by individuals, families, small groups, private firms, and local, regional, and national governments” (Ostrom Polycentric systems 550). As we all face adverse outcomes if action is not taken, we have a collective responsibility to either self-regulate or impose restrictions that prevent the tragedy of the global oceans. The global oceans are no exception. Solving the tragedy of the oceans will require action from communities at the local and global scale. Palau’s forward-thinking policies provide a positive example of when policymakers, scientist, communities, and environmental organizations come together to support a common cause. PAN provided a national framework where communities could designate MPAs. PAN also provided standards and technical and financial assistance for the management and monitoring of community-designated MPAs. PNMS places the needs of other-than-human species at the same level as humans, which is more consistent with the hydrocommons’ onto-logic than Hardin’s pasture. Thinking of the hydrological cycle as a global commons situates humans, as watery bodies, as part of the cycle. Water passes through us before entering another watery body in a way that blurs the boundaries of Being. As all humans have an equal role to play in the cyclical reproduction of water, the hydrocommons encourages us to 78 think of more than ourselves. As Neimanis notes, understanding our bodies as bodies of water through an onto-logic of amniotics can help us think about how to cultivate an ethics of interbeing, interbeing in the sense that we are not discrete or disconnected from the rest of the world. Instead, we are entangled in an intricate network of relationships with both human and other-than-human watery bodies. These networks of relationships encompass both the ecological and social dimensions of space. Thinking through these networks encourages us to also reevaluate our ethical and political relationships to other watery bodies. 6.2 Global Action from the Local The effect of and human impacts on the global oceans are projected to intensify. Successful resource management will require more holistic governance approaches that consider the social and ecological dimensions in tandem. The success of these approaches will require interdisciplinary collaboration that integrates social and ecological systems the oceans are embedded in. The global community needs to move towards collective action to avoid the tragedy of the commons. However, this action needs to take place at local levels. 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