Just weeks ago, a state task force on the lobster fishery said it needs, more than anything, a slick marketing campaign to open the tasty crustacean to new markets and boost a flagging season for Maine harvesters. So what has happened to date?

A month’s worth of shootings, trap-cuttings, boat-sinkings and “rising tensions.” That’s not marketing. (Although it is publicity.) More important, that’s not going to sell more Maine lobster. The perpetrators of these crimes know it. They did it for other reasons.

Fact is, the piracy and pillaging from Maine’s lobster fleet are counter-productive to the economic causes often attributed to them. This nefarious behavior stems, usually, from familial or territorial disputes, the unwritten rules of the fishery that lobstermen defend with mercenary fervor.

Granted, extreme market conditions, like today’s record-low prices for lobster, can make tempers short. It must be remembered, though, that piracy is recession-proof. It happens in good times and bad.

And it’s been happening for generations. It always draws attention, publicity and a media frenzy. Life Magazine, in the 1950s, published a famous photo of a group of lobstering brothers sitting on the transom of a boat, one of the men looking menacingly armed with a shotgun. That the weapon was for hunting season, and not a lobster war, was not mentioned. The attractive mythology of the rugged individualism of life at sea was the preferred narrative then, as it remains now. 

The popularity of reality television shows like “The Deadliest Catch,” which follows crab fishermen in Alaska’s tempestuous Bering Sea, and the ongoing fascination with the fishermen from Gloucester, Mass., lost in “The Perfect Storm” carries on this tradition.

Suspenseful tales of pirate-like behavior are sideshows to the more important story of Maine’s lobster fishery, which has experienced incredible, sustainable catch numbers during a bleak period of New England history when nearly ever other historical fishery has summarily collapsed.

This has occurred because the same lobstermen who can act like pirates also act like conservationists. The unwritten rules that bind the lobster fishery, when adjudicated within the realm of Maine’s criminal code, have allowed it to thrive, while also being sustainable.

Current troubles in the industry stem from causes that emanated from far beyond Maine’s rocky shoreline. When the economy rebounds, this fishery should still be positioned to capitalize.

And when the economy rebounds, there will still be boat-sinkings, trap-cuttings, fistfights and who knows what else among lobstermen as they administer off-brand justice to defend family bonds and good bottom. And, like clockwork, this behavior will again spark the same, age-old fascination that Americans have for tales of piracy and outlaws. 

It’s an unfortunate part of the industry, and it distracts from its real successes.

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