Is there a future for Scottish salmon-farming?

I spent two weeks living with Corin in Lochinver, a small town in northern Scotland. One day the two of us and a few others drove a little further north from where we were staying, to Drumbeg. From there we walked westward, over the moorlands, until we could walk no further. Peering over the cliffs we saw Oldany salmon farm, sixteen circular cages floating, seemingly harmlessly, in the water.

Corin explained how the farm worked, where the salmon were put in and then taken out, where the sea lice treatment facilities were, where they pumped in hydrogen peroxide, the chemical used to keep the salmon clean and where the salmon were sampled. He then explained how dead-zones—areas where the natural biodiversity of the seas surrounding the farms had been destroyed, due to the pollution and disease that’s produced by the farms—now extended for miles around the feedlot.

In these dead-zones, there are now very few wild fish. That, in turn, puts at risk the seals, otters and eagles that would normally rely on them. Corin believes that if this industry is eliminated these problems will cease to exist. Instead of farming salmon, people can eat line-caught salmon instead. But line-caught salmon would bring a fraction of the profit, and provide a fraction of the work, that the current salmon-farming industry does.

After my time with Corin, I began working at Inverawe Smokehouse, a food manufacturer specializing in smoked salmon. Like all other suppliers using Scottish salmon, they source their fish from salmon farms. Over the course of a month and a half, I worked packing, preparing, and smoking the fish. As much as time permitted, I would talk with the long-term employees, most of whom were Ukranian or Polish. Olga, a 56-year-old Ukranian with six years’ experience at the factory, was one of the eight other women who arranged the fish on top of the golden card synonymous with smoked salmon.

She told me she had left Ukraine all those years ago to find a better life for herself and her family. Today, her family lives with her on the grounds of the factory. All of them work for Inverware. And since the outbreak of the war in Ukraine Olga has found herself, once again, sending money to family trapped in war torn Lviv.

In charge of the smoking process and factory floor was 6’3” Bob. His weathered face and oak-smoked smell had been part of the furniture of Inverawe for twenty- seven years. I never saw him without a small glimmer of a smile and this was because, as he often stated, he loved his work. He too lived on the factory grounds with his family and often spent his evenings playing pool in the break area, next to the smokery—an event I rarely missed.

If salmon farms were closed tomorrow, Bob and Olga would be out of work. The same goes for the 10,000 other people working in the industry. But, as people like Corin Smith are increasingly succeeding in explaining, these farms cause serious trouble.

For the time being, salmon farms are here to stay. But for how long?