We ran into whales again in Mystic Seaport (after we had finished our time in the archives) where we watched a video on whaling practices explained through passages from Moby Dick (a significant work in the construction of the anti-whaling discourse for the way in which its representation of whales creates a distance between actual whales out in the ocean and the whale in the story -- a narrative reappropriated by anti-whaling activists) and handled a bronze whaling gun:
However, perhaps the most interesting pirate-whaling link we've come across has been the appropriation of pirate imagery and identity by the Sea Shepherd Conservation Society, the organization featured in Animal Planet's popular show Whale Wars (a connection we found out about from this Foreign Policy photo essay). Apparently some members of this society have taken it upon themselves to harass Japanese whaling vessels which they believe to be whaling for commercial rather than research purposes (though they would clearly object to the latter as well). This show is of note, first of all, for the extent to which it vividly illustrates Epstein's thesis about the "real-world" power of the anti-whaling discourse and the construction of (disputed) political space for non-governmental environmental actors. It's hard to see the same show being made with another environmental discourse (I can't see the Environmental Liberation Front's burning down of a Colorado ski lodge to save lynx habitat mobilizing quite the same level of enthusiasm), and even more challenging to envision a non-environmental non-state illegal group garnering such wide-spread popularity.But, an even more interesting twist (at least from the standpoint of our research), involves the deliberate appropriation of the pirate identity by the Sea Shepherds. Faced with accusations of piracy by Japanese whalers, Sea Shepherd Captain Paul Watson asserted his pride in being a "pirate of compassion" in an op-ed published in the Guardian. The op-ed is worth reading in full, but several points jump out.
First, Watson deploys the "pirate as (national) hero" commonplace that enjoyed great popularity in the early 18th century with English descriptions of Captain Morgan and again in the early to mid 19th century in American representations of John Paul Jones and, later, Jean Lafitte. Indeed, these are the pirate heroes that Watson cites:
At least proper piracy has a long list of renowned and admirable practitioners: John Paul Jones, who founded the navies of both the US and Russia; Jean LaFitte, who stood with General Andrew Jackson in defence of New Orleans; and Sir Francis Drake and Sir Walter Raleigh, knighted by Elizabeth I. I stand in honourable company as a modern-day pirate, though I've not shot anyone, burned any ships, looted any cargos or kidnapped anyone.
Watson's grasp on history is tenuous (he denies the British Navy had anything to do with the suppression of 18th century Caribbean piracy, attributing it instead to Henry Morgan), but his strategic deployment of the same pirate-legitimating commonplaces used centuries ago is quite interesting to observe.
Second, having made note of the pirate imagery used by the Sea Shepherd and Whale Wars, I was intrigued to read about both the deliberately defiant way in which it was deployed and also the popular appeal it lent to the Sea Shepherd's controversial cause:
My ship, the Steve Irwin, does fly a modern version of the Jolie Rouge, the original name of the banner that evolved into the skull and crossbones of the Jolly Roger. We decided years ago that if people were going to call us pirates, we would adopt our own version, and designed the crossed Neptune trident and shepherd's staff with the skull.
As soon as we hoisted that black flag, kids from around the world began to write to us in support. Our Jolly Roger hats and shirts have become our most popular merchandise. Why? Because there is a romance associated with piracy that is separate from the reality. Some pirates were noble heroes and some were dastardly villains. It's all a matter of perspective. If you love whales, we be heroes; but if you eat whales then we be pirates.
Finally, the introductory paragraphs of Watson's op-ed suggest he is aware of just how persuasive the popular imagery and language of pirates can be in summoning up enthusiasm:
Shiver me timbers, boys and girls, we is awash in a sea of pirates down here in the Southern Ocean and it's time for a parley to do a little 'splaining on the subject. This ocean now rivals the 17th century Caribbean for reported acts of piracy. The only thing lacking is the Sea Shepherd member Orlando Bloom.
Japanese whalers are accusing the Sea Shepherd Conservation Society and Greenpeace crew members of being pirates. Sea Shepherd and Greenpeace are accusing the whalers of being pirates. The whalers and Greenpeace are accusing Sea Shepherd of being pirates. The Japanese government is throwing the word piracy about as freely as the governor of Jamaica once did.
No one has sunk any ships, looted any cargos, kidnapped any damsels (just a couple of blokes) or forced anyone to walk the plank yet - but listening to the rhetoric, the public could be forgiven from thinking these activities are ravaging the Southern main.
That the deployment of pirate rhetoric is being used to legitimate (some) illegal non-state actions in the 21st century is a striking illustration of the extent to which the pirate discourse has shifted throughout history. That the deployment of the same word -- and some of the same commonplaces -- would, at the exact same time, be used to delegitimate other illegal non-state practices (most notably Somali piracy) indicates that, like Epstein, we too have an IR maritime puzzle to explain.
(Photo from: http://www.melbourne.indymedia.org/uploads/sea_shepherd_in_hobart_dec_06.jpg)
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