The Unseen Currents: Part Seven
- Joshua Van Der Neut

- 7 days ago
- 5 min read
The Long-Term Consequences of ITQs.

When Individual Transferable Quotas (ITQs) were first introduced, they were sold as a fix to overfishing; a way to protect stocks, bring order to chaos, and make fishing more efficient. But decades later, the tide has turned. Beneath the surface of economic “efficiency” lies a quieter transformation: coastal towns hollowed out, working fishers turned into renters of their own livelihoods, and ecosystems reshaped by policies that changed who could fish and who couldn’t. The Unseen Currents explores how the ITQ experiment, from abalone and lobster to the fisheries of tomorrow, has rippled through Australia and the world, exposing the gap between what was seen, and what was never meant to be.
PART SEVEN
Snapper and Mulloway: Australia’s Next Quota Frontier
Australia is again standing at a crossroads. Along the coastline, where fishing remains a way of life as much as an occupation, the debate over how to manage snapper and mulloway is gathering momentum. For policymakers, Individual Transferable Quotas (ITQs) appear to offer a tested formula: limit total catch, allocate shares and let the market decide who fishes. But for those who have watched what happened to abalone, lobster and other quota-managed species, the proposal carries a familiar warning. The system may work on paper, but it changes everything about who the ocean belongs to.
The Push for New Quotas
Pressure to extend ITQs to coastal species has been growing for years. Advocates point to declining stocks and argue that structured ownership will encourage stewardship. The model promises accountability through traceability and sustainability through market value. For governments, it is also convenient: a single management framework that can be applied across multiple fisheries.
Yet the lessons from existing ITQ systems are difficult to ignore. When abalone and lobster quotas were first introduced, the goals were conservation and order. Both were achieved, but at a cost. Quota values skyrocketed, ownership consolidated and working divers and pot fishers were gradually replaced by lease operators. The same risks now loom over snapper and mulloway, two of the most recognisable coastal species in New South Wales and South Australia.
A Warning from History
In every fishery where ITQs have taken hold, the same pattern has emerged. The first generation of quota holders may be active fishers, but over time, ownership shifts toward those with capital rather than experience. The market rewards holding rights, not hauling nets. For snapper and mulloway, this shift would reach into the very heart of Australia’s coastal identity.
These are the fish that fill local markets, support small family operations and connect regional towns to the sea. Turning them into tradeable assets risks repeating the same concentration seen in abalone and lobster, only closer to shore and with far greater social visibility. Once access is priced beyond reach, the next generation of local fishers will find themselves leasing from investors who have never baited a hook.
The Cost of Compliance
Beyond economics lies bureaucracy. Every quota system brings with it a layer of monitoring, reporting and audit. For small-scale operators who work estuaries and nearshore reefs, this burden can be crippling. Many already operate on slim margins, balancing unpredictable weather, seasonal closures and market volatility. Adding quota management fees and reporting obligations will push some beyond viability.
Meanwhile, larger companies and consolidated entities can absorb those costs with ease. The same process that drives efficiency on paper drives exclusion in practice. A model designed to reward stewardship ends up rewarding scale.
Ecological Context
The ecological justification for new quotas often relies on stock assessments that claim local depletion or low biomass levels for species such as snapper and mulloway. Commercial fishers strongly dispute these findings. They argue that there is no real evidence of decline, and that the assessment methods themselves are flawed, inconsistent and politically driven.
Many point out that survey data is often based on limited sampling, outdated models or recreational catch assumptions that do not reflect what is observed on the water. They also note that fishers continue to see strong recruitment and healthy catches across much of the coast, contradicting the “crisis” narrative presented in some reports. From their perspective, stock assessments have become a policy tool rather than a scientific one, used to justify restrictive measures that serve bureaucratic or political interests.
Restricting harvest further under these conditions, without addressing the credibility of the science or the transparency of the process, risks managing perception rather than reality. For those who work the coast every day, the greatest imbalance may not be ecological at all, but institutional — between those who fish and those who claim to know the sea better than they do.
The Stakes for Coastal Communities
For coastal communities, the proposed expansion of ITQs is not just a policy debate. It is a question of continuity. Families who have worked the same waters for generations now face the prospect of being priced out of their own coast. Once quota is introduced, it rarely returns to public ownership. Access becomes financial, and financial access becomes generational privilege.
The experience of abalone and lobster fishers shows how quickly an industry can move from collective stewardship to financial dependency. If the same model is applied to snapper and mulloway, the social consequences will extend well beyond the harbour. Towns that rely on small-boat operators could lose both their local supply of fresh fish and a key part of their cultural fabric.
A Moment of Choice
Australia’s coastal fisheries are at a turning point. The choice is not between conservation and collapse, but between two models of stewardship: one that treats the ocean as a common responsibility, and another that treats it as a portfolio. Once the quota line is crossed, returning to community-based management becomes almost impossible.
Before extending ITQs to snapper and mulloway, policymakers must ask a simple question: are we protecting the fish, or protecting the market?
Looking Forward
As the ITQ system evolves, one question grows larger: where does all the money go? With ownership increasingly detached from work, and leasing now a dominant cost for active fishers, a new form of extraction has emerged — one that operates above the waterline.
The next article examines the rise of quota rent and speculation, tracing how profits have shifted from decks and docks to desks and portfolios. It explores how a system meant to reward stewardship has instead created an invisible economy where wealth flows upward and the industry hollows from within.
Next: “The Invisible Economy: Quota Rent and the Hollowing of Fisheries.”
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Fishing is like any other industry . The more people that have to earn a living from it . The more expensive the product becomes . In times past . There were thousands who made a living from the Harvesting / Preparation and marketing of Australia's seafood. Nowdays the number of people employed in Monitoring the industry may not outstrip that number , But certainly costs more than the industry used to produce . Lets add to that the people who invest in fishing in one way or another . Trading Shares , Trading licences . Leasing vessels and equipment . Again probably costs a huge portion of what the industry Used to produce . Lets add to that equasion…