Sealing has a rich history

Each year thousands of men board onto longliners and trudge to the front. Through blinding wind and ice, treacherous ice floes, the men of Newfoundland and Labrador, as they have done for hundreds of years, take part in one of the most dangerous and gruelling industries in the world — the annual seal harvest.

For many in the province, the seal hunt incites pride and conversations about how their grandfather, or great-uncle, or some other relative was part of the Newfoundland sealing disaster in 1914; talks of how the men used to sleep on top of the seal pelts after a day out on the ice because their boat was filled to the gunnels; recollections of how St. John’s harbour used to be filled with crowds awaiting the sealers’ return; and of the fear that Capt. Abram Kean struck in the hearts of all sealers.

At the same time, there is PETA, Greenpeace and the Green Party of Canada, just to name a few, whose members would rather chew on pleather than hear any more about the continuation of the hunt. They say that we hunt baby seals, that we skin them alive, and that Newfoundlanders are barbarians. All fallacies, but they make nice cam- paign slogans.

The million-dollar question is simply, should we continue the hunt?

Well, the question is fine, and many have asked it: from Jim Furlong (CBC’s “Fisheries Broadcast” host), to Sir Paul McCartney (a man who doesn’t know the difference between Newfoundland and Labrador and P.E.I.), and even one of the hunt’s biggest supporters, Ryan Cleary, MP for St. John’s SouthMount Pearl, so there is certainly no shame in asking about the future of this 500-year-old industry.

Depending on who you ask, you’re going to get a very different answer.

Comparing the days of Abram Kean and the Harvey Brothers, when it was quite common for individual ships to land tens of thousands of pelts, to today’s meagre 38,000 pelts for a single season, the hunt has, without a doubt, seen better days.

In 2011, the harp seal harvest garnered $1 million in direct product profit, while generating another $500,000 in indirect revenue through the purchase of food, ammunition and fuel. As sad as it is, Wal-Mart makes that in a day.

Fortunately, 2012 was a better year, with the industry reaching one of the highest profits since the Euro- pean Union placed a ban on seal products in 2006. There were 70,000 seals harvested, the pelt price rose to $32, and 680 sealers took part in the hunt.

The provincial government also gave a loan of $3.6 million to the Carino processing plant to kickstart the hunt, with Carino making its first payment of $1.1 million this past December and more profit and loan payback to come.

And a little not-so-secret-anymore fact floating around is that there is a seal pelt deficit on the island, as all of the tanneries have sold their pelts to an undisclosed buyer.

Markets strengthening?

Things certainly seem to be picking up for the seal hunt; after all, the provincial government has enough faith in the processors and sealers to give them a loan — that means there must actually be some legitimacy left.

Continuing on with the economics of the hunt and the prosperity it has seen in 2012, the Department of Fisheries and Oceans has finally gotten enough leverage to force the EU to consider lifting its ban on Canadian seal products.

DFO Minister Keith Ashfield made it clear that the Canadian government would be pressing a lawsuit in the World Trade Organization citing breaches in free trade agreements between Canada and the EU, and that the ban was unfairly and illegally put in place with no valid reasoning.

If the federal government is finally showing responsibility to the people of Newfoundland and Labrador, there must be something behind it. There must be some legitimate economic hope for the hunt.

The hunt has remained part of Newfoundland’s culture for hundreds of years.

The aboriginal populations of our province have used the seal for survival, making the most rugged of clothes to stand up against the harsh winters; they also utilize the pelts to make art pieces that are world renowned for their beauty and craftsmanship, not to mention the fact that the seal is completely stripped bare of meat and the fat used as lamp oil.

For those who are not aboriginal, the hunt holds a different meaning. Stories are passed down through families about the treks their grandfathers made to get a berth to go to the ice flows, to sail with the most feared Capt. Abram Kean out on the Stephano or the Florizel.

Even the House of Assembly shares a piece of this heritage by still adorning their seats with seal leather and when our politicians represent us on a world scale, they never look better than when they sport a pair of sealskin boots, gloves or top it off with a hat — and they really make a statement when they throw on a full sealskin coat.

People say that the killing of seals is an inhumanity?

The real inhumanity would lie with the killing of a piece of Newfoundland and Labrador heritage.

The fall of the hunt, many would say, was blood on the ice for everyone to see.

The regulations and laws are there, the economic feasibility is there and the will to continue the hunt is very much also there.

The hunt is performed legally and extremely humanely; sealers still rely on it as a large portion of their annual income; and young boys in outport Newfoundland still copy pans awaiting the day when they will join their fathers on the front.

What legitimate reason is there to end the hunt? Baby seals being cute does not qualify as a legitimate reason. The fact of the matter is, there is no reason to end the hunt, and the hunt will go on.

Long live the hunt!