In our previous article, we tried to share the issue of bycatch through a narrative approach — Manta Rays Are Worth More Alive Abroad, So Why Do Taiwanese Fishermen Catch and Sell Them? A Shift in Perspective for a Fuller Understanding of Fisheries Policy. This time, we draw on real-life cases to share what manta rays and other iconic dive species face in Taiwan today.
In the dead of night — engines off, anchor dropped, lights on — the captain was hunting for squid, directing the crew as they scrambled into action. The vessel's fish-aggregating lights drew in clouds of plankton, small fish, and shrimp, but these tiny creatures weren't the only ones that came calling. While the anchor cable held the boat fast against the pounding swells, the bubbles and noise churned up by the current around the rope convinced one visitor that food was right there for the taking.
Manta ray: "I was just looking for something to eat!"
One loop! Two loops! Three loops! And then — it couldn't turn anymore…!?!?!?!?!?!?
It thrashed its wings in a panic, but for all its massive size, it was no match for the combined pull of the anchor and the vessel at either end of the cable. With every push of the waves, the harder it struggled, the deeper and tighter the rope cut in — loop after loop, round after round. The manta ray was bound fast.
By any estimate, the creature weighed several hundred kilograms. A human standing beside it would have looked utterly insignificant — like a sumo wrestler going up against a kindergartner. Those thick, powerful wings, spread wide, could send a person flying with a single careless stroke. Could you really talk it into holding still while someone jumped in to untangle it?
Maybe cutting the rope from the boat was the answer — except that the anchor itself was tangled around the manta ray too. If the rope were cut from above, the animal would sink straight to the bottom with the anchor still attached, left to die.
"Just deal with it tomorrow," came the order from the government official on the other end of the phone. There was simply nothing anyone could do with a creature that size out at sea, so the captain carefully maneuvered the vessel and slowly brought the manta ray back to port.
"One rope, one anchor — barely worth anything! And even if you hauled that fish in, it wouldn't fetch much either!" "Should've just cut the rope and let it be — dead or alive, who cares? At least you wouldn't end up in this mess." "Report it? This is what you get for trusting the government!" — Comments from other fishermen after word got out.
As bystanders crowded around and the chatter grew louder, rumors and rubberneckers multiplied. "You can go home now!" At last, to the cheers of the onlookers, an exhausted manta ray covered in wounds was forcibly dragged back out to sea.
Crew member: "It's gone home. Maybe it'll be back in seven days." The moment the rope was cut, the manta ray drifted down toward the seafloor like a kite with no wind — slowly, silently sinking.
It wasn't a whale, a dolphin, or a sea turtle, so its injuries didn't really matter. Drag it out, toss it in — out of sight, out of mind.
On What Does and Doesn't Matter When It Comes to Manta Rays
Us: "So what exactly do you plan to do about the manta ray situation?"
Government official: "Do you smoke? Let's step outside." "You know, manta rays actually go and play with ropes! I've talked to a lot of boat captains over the years, and they all say they find manta rays tangled in anchor cables — only a few ever get caught in nets."
Us: "I know that. But why don't you tell the public the truth? It would at least clear the name of the fishermen who followed the rules and cooperated with fisheries management. Isn't that what the government is supposed to do?"
Fishermen who did nothing but obey the law ended up being publicly vilified and attacked.
Government official: "Come on! The election was ages ago!" "Besides, we're already swamped with our regular work — who has time to deal with all that petty stuff?" He furrowed his brow and drew a long drag on his cigarette. The brief glow of the burning tip seemed to protest the relentless, overwhelming pace of daily life.
Us: "What about increasing the research budget to tackle the problem? Or working with universities to improve fishing gear? Isn't that exactly what Japan does?"
Government official: "Does any of that really matter?" "Why waste the money! Once we slap a ban on it, the rest isn't our problem anymore. Same as with the Whale Shark — as long as no fish come back to port, who cares how many are still alive out there in the ocean?" He flicked his ash onto the tiled floor, and a passing gust of wind carried it away until it vanished without a trace, as if no one had ever stood there smoking at all.
Just like the fish — as long as none come back to shore, you don't have to see it. Who's going to care what happens out at sea?
Government official: "Besides, the paycheck arrives on time every month. That's what really matters, isn't it?" He exhaled a long breath of smoke — though it was hard to tell whether it was smoke or a deep, weary sigh. His expression, barely perceptible, carried the weight of exhaustion and quiet resignation.
Did the system of the past shape today's environment, or did today's environment shape the system? Is this a mess of our own making, or are people simply trapped by forces beyond their control? Perhaps, for him, going with the flow like a fish — keeping your head down and protecting yourself — is all that's left. People and fish: maybe the difference between us isn't so great after all.
Does any of it matter — people, fish? Perhaps in this environment, none of it does anymore…
Photo by Sebastian Pena Lambarri on Unsplash
That February Encounter with a Manta Ray
"I met you that February. You said you were just lost. You said you were tired. You said you just needed somewhere to rest for a while…"
At the time, manta rays had not yet been placed under a fishing ban. A set-net operator discovered a manta ray in the fishing grounds that was extremely weak, with netting tangled around its wings — most likely cut loose and released by a fisherman who had found reporting too much trouble. The operator originally planned to do what was customary and release it somewhere else, but when they saw that the net rope had already cut deep into the animal's muscle, and just how large the wound on its wing was, they couldn't bear to look away. People can wait — a fish cannot. The entire team mobilized immediately.
After reporting the manta ray through the proper channels, they quickly found a research institution willing to lend facilities for the animal's recovery. After all, there was a real lack of observational data on live manta rays domestically, making this a rare opportunity for industry-academic collaboration.
With no manta ray experts in Taiwan, and no veterinarians or keepers with experience caring for the species, the operator had no choice but to reach out to overseas specialists who had worked with manta rays for many years. Upon hearing what had happened, the experts immediately dispatched personnel to Taiwan to assist, and promised to continue supplying medication and food to support the manta ray's recovery until it was well enough to return to the sea.
For its sake, the set-net operator covered all expenses out of pocket and arranged staff rotations to care for the animal around the clock. But domestic facilities and equipment remained limited, and getting it overseas for more comprehensive medical care as soon as possible was the only real chance of saving its life.
The operator rushed to prepare CITES (Convention on International Trade in Endangered Species of Wild Fauna and Flora) documentation for the animal, and within a few weeks had successfully secured export permits from all relevant government agencies. Just as everyone breathed a sigh of relief for the manta ray's future, no one anticipated the cascade of trouble that was about to follow.
"Don't you think it's cruel to keep it locked up?"
Conservation group members submitted letters to the media, alleging that "the set-net operator was misappropriating public funds to maliciously confine the manta ray with the intent to sell and export it for profit." The groups also stirred up online campaigns calling on the public to petition against the operator and demand the manta ray's immediate release.
The documents and export permits the operator had so carefully prepared were then revoked one by one by each government agency, swept away by the shifting political winds. The conservation groups continued to pile on pressure from multiple directions — even managing, through a web of connections, to have the medication and food sent by the overseas specialists held up at customs. When they succeeded in cutting off the manta ray's lifeline, celebrations broke out within the groups. Without medicine and without food, the manta ray's death was only a matter of time, and the operator would be forced to release it at sea while it was still alive. And if the manta ray were to die prematurely, that too could be spun into another media storm.
As conservation group representatives kept making repeated "site inspections," the manta ray grew increasingly distressed, stopped eating, and its condition deteriorated day by day. Its return to the ocean seemed further away than ever. Yet even government officials with professional expertise in fisheries played along with the conservation groups, and it became impossible to tell who actually knew what they were talking about. All of it left the set-net operator utterly disheartened.
"Just release it! The ocean has an amazing ability to heal itself!" one conservation group representative said with full confidence to the operator.
With no medicine and no food, there was nothing to do but watch the manta ray grow weaker with every passing day. The operator had no choice but to take the still-unrecovered animal out to sea and release it, hoping against hope that the ocean really did possess the miraculous healing powers the conservationists had claimed. Where it went in the end, whether it ever found its way home — none of that matters anymore…
"The manta ray is free!" The conservation groups cheered once again, declaring it a major victory. They asked the public to donate and continue supporting their future actions.
Photo by Adam Juman on Unsplash
On What Ultimately Does and Doesn't Matter for the Manta Ray
So is there actually a solution to this bycatch problem? For the manta ray, it's a matter of life and death. But for some people, it apparently isn't all that important. Whether it ever gets solved — maybe that doesn't matter anymore either…
This article is based entirely on real animals and real events, with only around ten percent adapted to prevent specific individuals from being identified. Every industry has its bad actors, but law-abiding, decent fishermen continue to be smeared with baseless accusations. Their goodwill has been exploited and consumed, and to this day not a single apology has been offered. Meanwhile, those who caused this harm continue to operate in the public arena, capitalizing on the public's ignorance of the ocean and the fishing industry to keep their fundraising campaigns alive…
Cover photo: Photo by Alex Rose on Unsplash
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