The object of this paper is to allow informed answers to be made to the following questions. Is the research commercial whaling in disguise? Is it a means of keeping men and/or hardware in a state of operational readiness? Is it a means of providing jobs to displaced whalers? Or is it a combination of, or none of, the above?

As I stated in my introduction, one cannot reach a firm conclusion without a study of the science involved. But some aspersions can at least be discounted. In other words, from the evidence presented we cannot conclude what the research is, but we can say what it is not, or is unlikely to be.

By definition, a commercial operation is designed to make a profit, either now or later. The research being conducted in the Antarctic is not profitable. It more or less pays for itself, while the ICR claims to incur a small loss. If one takes into account the other nonlethal projects being funded by the Fisheries Agency, and the administrative costs of running the ICR year-round, the institute is a black hole for money.

Kyodo Senpaku is a private enterprise which receives money for services rendered. But is it merely a revamped version of its predecessor, the commercial whaling company Kyodo Hogei? On the face of it, yes. Yet it has experienced a 74% drop in income since 1987 while costs have declined negligibly. Hardly big business.

There is reason to suppose this state of affairs might not have been the intention of the drafters of the research plan. The original proposal in March 1987 called for the taking of 825 minkes and up to 50 sperm whales annually. The sperm whales were subsequently dropped and the number of minkes more than halved, but had this plan been enacted the profit-loss column would look very different today. If this were the case, one might argue convincingly that the by-products were indeed "products", that is, the raison d'etre of the research.

Officially, the ICR is unperturbed by the cut in sample size; they claim to have compensated by refining methodology and extending the term of the program. The scientists, meanwhile, complain privately that their work has been made much harder, but their complaints have nothing to do with dollars and cents. But what of the Fisheries Agency, which now funds part of the research? Had it originally hoped the sale of byproducts would cover the entire cost, hence dispensing with the need for a government subsidy? And what of the three fishing companies which established Kyodo Senpaku? Had they been counting on a profitable research operation?

One can only speculate when it comes to what might have been. Though privately no one is happy with the present sample size, the Fisheries Agency and Kyodo Senpaku have made a commitment to a long-term research program in its present form. It is this we must deal with, and the research as it stands is a loss-maker. Arguments which merit more consideration are those concerned with mid-term business prospects. Japan makes no secret of its hope to resume commercial whaling, and it is conceivable that the research has been contrived to keep in place the infrastructure of the industry so that it may resume at some point in the future. The evidence is far from conclusive but it cannot be discounted.

There is, however, a third alternative, which is also the most realistic. That is that bona fide research is proceeding in harmony with a small-scale commercial operation. The raison d'etre is science, but it is the commercial element which makes the research possible - by generating funds - and gives it meaning - by keeping intact the industry which it is intended to benefit.

The scientists employed at the ICR are genuinely interested in science for its own sake. They are not concerned with the politics of whaling. Neither would they tolerate a higher authority pressuring them to cook their results in favour of the whaling industry. This cannot be demonstrated but I know it to be true. Having said that, however, the scientists are ultimately pawns. It is not they who decide whether whales are caught or how many. They do their best with the tools they are given.

More important to consider are the practical realities of conducting the research, and the stances of the Fisheries Agency and of Kyodo Senpaku.

One reality which administrators must face is that, regardless of the scientific merit of catching samples, the research could not continue without the income from selling the by-products. Another is that personnel are needed to transport and assist the scientists in the Antarctic, and the best people for the job are whalers. The list goes on, and time and again we find the interests of science overlapping slightly with those of the whaling industry.

From the perspective of Kyodo Senpaku, meanwhile, there is a view that if whaling were to cease for, say, 10 years, it might be difficult to restart. Research whaling therefore has the benefit of sustaining a minimal infrastructure and flow of products. But the research means much more besides: it means finding scientific evidence that will convince the IWC to lift the moratorium. In two ways, therefore, the future of the whaling industry lies in science.

And it is because the future of the industry lies in science that the Fisheries Agency both contributes funds to the ICR and helps Kyodo Senpaku remain viable. The Fisheries Agency does not fund science for its own sake; it funds science which will benefit industry and the people of Japan. If the ICR's research were to bring about the end of the moratorium but there were no one left to catch whales, at the end of the day those funds would be considered ill-spent.

This could be interpreted as asking the scientists to serve two gods: science and the whaling industry. There is some truth in this; the ICR does not engage in what might be called "pure science". But does it mean the benefits to society are lessened? Perversely, the answer is actually the opposite. For members of the general public who have never faced the task of raising funds to stay in business, it is easy to cry foul when two seemingly incongruous parties join hands. Funds donated by special-interest groups to political campaigns can be likened to bribes, but that doesn't mean every politician has sold his soul. What it means is that, for better or worse, you have politicians. If all politicians had to do paper rounds to make ends meet, no one would become a politician. Scientists the world over are faced with a constant dilemma of how to get funding, but if they accept a scholarship from a private enterprise, does it follow that the science must be biassed towards the interests of his benefactor? If so, then good science can only result when shielded from all contact with business interests, but if all science was like that, there would be almost no science. The problem is money; science costs too much and if it is not funded by the government, the money must be raised by other means. Cetacean research is no exception.

If there is this commercial element in the research, it in no way tallies with the image created by critics, and in particular by Greenpeace. The thrust of this group's attack, stated openly or implied, is that we are being taken for fools:

"Although the Japanese claim the cull is for research purposes, Greenpeace is determined to stop the $10 million harvest which sees whale steaks on sale in Tokyo for $50 a kilo." (filed by Mark Scott from the M.V. Gondwana, Dec. 13, 1990)

"Research is the farce that Japan performs to keep the supermarkets stocked." (campaigner Vicki Getz quoted by Reuter, Wellington, Dec. 23, 1990)

This is a particularly effective approach as no one likes to be duped. Our intelligences are being insulted and we should therefore be angry, a totally understandable and human response.

But if the research is so obviously a sham, why have Greenpeace and others made no attempt to support the accusation with figures? Because the figures don't support the accusation. Talk of a "$10 million harvest" is very compelling to a casual reader, but with no consideration given to costs it is meaningless.

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