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Naira de Gracia is a writer and biologist who has conducted extensive wildlife research fieldwork in the Antarctic, the Samoan archipelago, the Bering Sea, remote islands in the Hawaiian chain, and off the coast of California. She is currently pursuing a Master’s in Agroecology in Sweden.
Purchase Naira’s book here.
This interview was conducted by Claire Christian and has been edited and condensed for clarity.
The first question I have is about the US Antarctic Program canceling research because of the lack of logistical support. If you were trying to make a case for making sure that these programs could continue in their current form, what would you say?
I would want to start with the positive, which is that the US has contributed so much to Antarctic science in the past through this program, and programs like this long-term ecosystem monitoring project [that de Gracia worked on] that fit under the Antarctic Treaty umbrella. And it’s because of a lot of the accomplishments and data and science that has been produced by the US that have been able to support these conservation measures that have been successful. There’s a really positive story around the US’s contribution to international science and the international stewardship of the continent.
The way these long-term ecosystem monitoring studies function is that they need that same data set every year. And when you erode that logistical support, scientists are less able to keep that dataset continuous. And now we’re getting to the point where those dramatic changes that this dataset was built to detect are happening on quite a dramatic scale. It’s [also] a great diplomatic opportunity to make connections with other countries. And the more you support the program, the more they’re able to do like outreach programs and teach people about Antarctica and get young people interested in science and in biology.
In the book, you talk a lot about the emotional experiences you and your fellow researchers had while doing your research. Science is often supposed to be objective, but what made you want to explore these emotional experiences as well?
There’s a lot of science out there. And there are a lot of really amazing scientists out there that turn out the data and the papers. What I wanted to do was connect people to the place and the wildlife in a different way. My strength isn’t necessarily in the science analytical side, but I can bring people into the world a little more vividly. I wanted to write a book that would help people imagine themselves into my experience and connect with it on a more human level. What does it feel like to be out there? What does it look like? What does it smell like?
I think it helps people understand what this ecosystem is, connect more to those numbers that we see in the news and in science.
You mentioned marine protected areas (MPAs) a lot in the book, because that’s something that the work you’re doing is contributing to. So why do you personally support MPAs? And did your research experiences reinforce that support?
MPAs are often framed as this perfect solution to our conservation challenges in the ocean. There is some valid criticism around the fact that when MPAs are created, it only really concentrates fishing elsewhere. All the fishing that would have been there, happens everywhere else. I think MPAs are a specific tool that can be used in specific contexts. It’s not an end all be all of conservation.
There are instances in which the foraging grounds of breeding penguins and seals and the fishing grounds of the krill fishery do intersect spatially. MPAs are a spatial geographical tool that we can use to mitigate that threat.
I’m obviously massively supportive of MPAs. [But] we need a lot more conservation tools when it comes to protecting the Southern Ocean, including things like reassessing the IUCN Red List status of southern fur seals, which I mentioned in the book. When it comes to this specific issue of krill availability and krill competition, in the Southern Ocean, MPAs can be massively helpful.
In my experience in the Antarctic Treaty System, there’s been a reversal of the burden of proof. Do you think that those who are critical of the scientific basis for some of these environmental protection measures really understand the science that they’re criticizing? In your book, the scientists are not sitting around and conspiring. They’re just doing hard work. What are your thoughts on that?
As a disclaimer, in this answer I’m not speaking for the program. The way science is structured as a system of knowledge leaves room for doubt, and that’s how it can advance and develop. When it comes to this [Antarctic] system, there is enough uncertainty that we need to be very precautionary. It’s a super dynamic, really complex ecosystem that we still don’t entirely understand. But we know enough to know that certain populations are decreasing and that human activity does have a significant impact. But obviously when the political element comes in, they’re always going to exploit that uncertainty for their own purposes. And unfortunately, that is what’s happening.
It really hurts people’s brains to readapt to a different way of thinking, that is, that there’s a whole ecosystem that depends on krill. Yes, we take 1% of that krill, but from where and what else is eating it? It’s tricky take people along on that journey.
In the book, you have a quote that I liked about how climate change “forces us to think beyond our constructs of state and sovereignty to an integrated view: ourselves as one species of many and our home as a living, breathing feeling Earth.” Do you think that global leaders who are well aware of the threat of climate change have truly expanded their thinking in this way?
I would love it if they had. I think to get to the point where you’re a global leader, you have to operate within certain systems of thought, certain political and economic structures for so long that you’re already conditioned by those ways of thinking and have to make decisions in those ways of thinking. I would love it if we thought beyond nations. That’s why Antarctic science can be really powerful, because it is something that exists outside the sovereignty framework. To some extent, but not entirely. We all do live in times that are really forcing us to put our sovereign interests aside. But as we know, the fight to mitigate climate change is not yet successful.
Now for some lighter questions. I get so many emails from students who want to do field research in Antarctica. Do you have any advice for them?
It’s hard because there aren’t that many opportunities to do it. Furthermore, people are so keen for this kind of work and they’re rarely compensated well. The barrier of entry is so high that I feel there isn’t much advice I can give that can address those structural elements. One thing [is] deciding early what it is you want to get out of field work in the long term. What would be are the parts of fieldwork that you’re most interested in, where you would want to go with that in the future, etc.
Another thing I would say is that every single program I’ve ever been on has had data issues, so I think if you can foster those skills – data management, coding, database management, data design – all of that is massively in demand. Also learn to embrace the quirks of the lifestyle and the discomfort, and have a sense of humor about it. It can be so fulfilling if you don’t take yourself too seriously.
Finally, people that are kind of rigid and have very specific expectations tend to drop out of field work quickly. It’s worth cultivating a kind of go with the flow ethos.
Now that you’ve been away from Antarctica for a while, what do you miss the most? And what do you miss the least?
Definitely, the least is the hygiene situation. I religiously shower every day now. I’m making up for lost time.
What I miss the most is how simple life was. And communal living – you’re really close with the people you live with. You have everything you need. You don’t have the internet. You are very in the moment and very absorbed by your surroundings. It strips away a lot of the things that I find difficult about like modern societies – distraction, ads, flashiness, noise. I miss that sense of serenity. And your attention span is longer. You can sit there watching penguins for an hour. I miss that attention span!
In the book, you talk a lot about the wildlife and how much it inspires you even though the work was very difficult and very tiring. Do you think you could ever get bored of watching penguins and other wildlife?
In the book, I talked a bit about Mike Goebel, who was one of the main researchers of my program. He was a real example of how the more time you spend there, and the more you observe these animals, the more you see, you’re not going to see the same level of information.
In my second season, I was able to discern so much more about what was going on in the colonies, because I had the first season already under my belt. Mike could go to the Cape and just look around at the seal droppings, be able to know from that whether it was a good season, how far the krill was, and how the populations are. That insight into an ecosystem comes from many, many years of experience, and the more time you spend, the more insight you have, the more you’re able to see and notice. So, I don’t think I’d get tired of it!
So final question – you’ve picked up a lot of penguins. What do they feel like?
There’s no fluff at all! Their feathers are so, so dense. It’s like a hard surface. They’re super muscular birds, they have these really intense swimming muscles that they use to shoot through the water. It’s like a very firm kind of football and you just tuck them under your arm. They’re also heavy! And, of course, they are reluctant to be held. So, they do bite often.
But it’s so interesting. For example, we would have to pull some feathers for an isotope analysis. We would have to get one feather, and you would have to really dig to be able to even access the shaft of that feather. It’s such an impressive waterproof wall!