If you spend enough time in the fish area of a large American supermarket, you will eventually get paralyzed. It’s because there’s too much to read, not because there’s nothing to buy. Labels pile on top of one another. Regional certification badges, “responsibly sourced” labels, “sustainably harvested” statements, blue fish emblems, and green checkmarks. Even after reading the back panel of a bag of frozen shrimp for four minutes, you might not be able to determine if it is a better or worse option than the bag next to it. This isn’t a failing of the customer. There is a systemic issue.
Before reaching a retail shelf, the thousands of species that make up the American seafood supply are obtained from dozens of nations via supply chains that may go via several processors, distributors, and repackagers. There are issues with meat as well, but beef is beef. Seafood includes Pacific tuna, Gulf shrimp, Atlantic cod, and Chilean sea bass, each of which has its own population statistics, fishing technique considerations, aquaculture alternatives, and a history of being classified as “avoid” by one organization and “sustainable” by another in the same year.
The most well-known eco-certification is likely the Marine Stewardship Council’s blue fish label, but it coexists with retail-specific grading systems, Seafood Watch color ratings, country-of-origin claims, and a rotating cast of third-party auditors whose standards vary in ways that only experts can monitor.
Furthermore, sustainability requirements have expanded beyond the initial goals of fishery managers. Bycatch rates and stock evaluations are no longer the only factors. Carbon footprints, labor standards on fishing vessels, and crew conditions—including, in certain situations, whether workers have internet access at sea—are being assessed by certification agencies. There is a good reason to take these things into account. Additionally, it is plausible to argue that their addition to an already perplexing consumer-facing label system without a clear explanation exacerbates rather than resolves the issue.
The dispute over wild vs farmed salmon serves as an example of how even knowledgeable consumers find it difficult to adapt to changing expert opinions. Because of worries about open-net pen aquaculture and its effects on the environment, it was long believed that wild-caught Alaska salmon was preferable to farmed Atlantic salmon. Then, in some areas, aquaculture techniques improved. Then, in others, they didn’t. Then the topic of climate constraints on wild Alaska runs came up. Today, the answer is dependent on particular farms, areas, and years—a level of specificity that no grocery store label can convey to a person standing at a refrigerated display case on a Tuesday night with twenty minutes before supper.
Buy American is a sensible place to start, according to NOAA Fisheries. Despite their shortcomings, federal sustainability guidelines that are both legally enforceable and scientifically monitored regulate wild-capture fisheries and aquaculture activities in the United States. Although domestic seafood has a baseline of control that imports from many other nations do not, it is not always the greatest option for the environment in every area. That eliminates a great deal of confusion on its own.
Large merchants with clear sourcing standards handle part of the work for customers who don’t want to keep track of certification programs on their own. While some local grocers have created their own procurement guidelines, Whole Foods has upheld sustainability requirements for seafood for a longer period of time than most companies. Customers are relying on a retailer’s screening process without having direct access to the underlying data, which limits transparency.
