Salmon Farms in Patagonia Face Growing Opposition

Not mentioned is that many species of  salmon and steelhead have now been naturalized into entire ocean systems, to which they were not ‘native’.

On the other side of the equation, salmon has gone from being a luxury food for the rich, to a daily staple of pretty much anyone. Fish farming should be cleaned up – not ended.

NOTE: this article was originally published to NYTimes.com on August 14, 2024. It was written by Lucy Meyer and Casey Ann Smith. Photographs by Marcos Zegers

The Chilean industry’s expansion has drawn repeated challenges from environmentalists and Indigenous people of the region, and prompted calls for a moratorium. 

The sea is calm as dusk descends on Tarsicio Antezana’s home island of Quinchao in southern Chile. In the distance, snow-capped volcanoes turn a deep violet with the setting sun.

It’s a serene sight — except for the one thing Mr. Antezana, a retired oceanographer, cannot ignore. Not far out in the water, a strip of small, rectangular objects stretches across the sea, swaying ever so slightly with the tide. These structures might not seem like much, but Mr. Antezana knows what lies beneath the surface: a salmon farm.

Below the water, high-density net cages teem with thousands of salmon. Farms like this one are common in Los Lagos, the primary aquaculture region in Chile. The South American country is the top exporter of farmed salmon to the United States. But the popular fish are not native to this place, and many environmentalists and activists have long complained that the farms are damaging Chilean ecosystems and threatening native wildlife.

Large-scale salmon farming began in Chile in the 1970s. A young scientist at the time, Mr. Antezana was asked to evaluate the viability of farming the fish. He advised the government to establish base-line studies and to be wary of ecological and health risks.

For more than four decades, Mr. Antezana has watched the industry grow into one of the world’s leading producers of farmed salmon. Last year, farmed salmon was Chile’s second-largest export, generating $6.5 billion in revenue.

It’s an economic success story in which U.S. consumers play a leading role, eating more Chilean salmon than ever before; 2022 was a record year, according to the U.S. Department of Agriculture. Most of the farmed salmon eaten in the United States comes from overseas, with almost half from the fjords of Chile.

Its salmon industry has often been criticized for its heavy use of antimicrobials and accused of polluting waterways and contributing to record algal blooms. As primary aquaculture districts have deteriorated alongside the growing international demand, Chilean salmon farming has expanded into the pristine wilderness of the country’s southernmost region, the Magallanes, in Patagonia.

 In April, a report for the United Nations called salmon farming“one of the main threats to the environment” in Patagonia. David R. Boyd, an associate professor at the University of British Columbia who prepared the U.N. report, recommended suspending “the expansion of salmon aquaculture pending independent scientific analysis of adverse environmental impacts” — a call that the industry rejected.

Arturo Clément, the president of the industry association, SalmonChile, acknowledged that, in the past, the sector had “made mistakes and we still have much room for improvement.” Over the last 40 years, salmon farming has developed into a “vital industry” for southern Chile, he said. “We are convinced that it is possible to make environmental care compatible with economic development.”

Mr. Antezana does not share that optimism. It’s hard to assess the extent of the damage to Chile’s coastal ecosystems, he said, because base-line studies that would monitor the effects of salmon farming on aquaculture have never been done. “I mean this is the Wild West,” he said.

Most Chilean salmon farms routinely treat fish with antibiotics and pesticides to prevent infection from outbreaks of illnesses including Piscirickettsiosis and infectious salmon anemia. According to Sernapesca, Chile’s national fisheries agency, more than 338 metric tons of antibiotics were reportedly used in Chilean salmon farms in 2023. That’s a significant decrease from several years ago, but far higher than the industry’s goals for reducing use. In contrast, Norway, the world’s largest producer of farmed salmon, reported using essentially no antibiotics the same year.

The rise of antibiotic resistance has been recognized by the World Health Organization as a serious threat to global public health. Aquaculture, including salmon farming, is a contributor, said Dr. Felipe Cabello, a professor of microbiology and immunology at New York Medical College.

Because of strict quarantine and testing protocols, however, Chilean salmon contains virtually no antibiotic residue when it lands in U.S. supermarkets. Chile and the United States test Chilean salmon meat for antibiotics, but Dr. Cabello said that neither tests the samples for bacteria, which could pose a public health risk. 

 If any bacteria had drug-resistant genes, he explained, those could be transferred to the intestinal tract of humans and could pass on antibiotic resistance in a process known as horizontal gene transfer, in which genetic material can be transmitted from one bacterium to another. Dr. Cabello said researchers were increasingly fearful of the development of antibiotic-resistant “superbugs,” given that salmon farms may foster the ideal antimicrobial breeding grounds because 70 to 80 percent of antibiotics given to salmon can be passed to the environment.

Leached antibiotics have been discovered in wild fish populations near Chilean salmon farms, Dr. Cabello noted. When rough weather and poorly enclosed structures enable salmon to escape farms in large numbers, the predator fish endanger local species, destabilizing ecosystems and carrying contaminants beyond their farming locations, he said.

Also worrying to some scientists is what farmed salmon are fed in a shift to protein crops like soy and byproducts from farming livestock. “The industry in Chile is feeding fish foods that are artificial to them,” said Ivonne Lozano, a researcher and food safety expert at the University of Chile.

Leached food that falls to the seafloor as well as fish feces and other nutrients are thought to be contributing to regular harmful algal blooms and areas of low oxygen called “dead zones” that kill ocean life. Ms. Lozano cited artificial feed as one of three key factors contributing to disease in Chilean salmon farms, along with the high density of net cages and the fact that salmon are not native.

Since 2014, the Monterey Bay Aquarium’s Seafood Watch, a global authority on sustainable seafood, has advised consumers to avoid most salmon farmed in Chile, citing the industry’s reliance on antibiotics. 

 For the last five years, the nonprofit has been working with Chilean industry groups to halve antibiotic use by next year. Chile’s salmon trade groups say that, when considered over a longer period of time, the volume of antimicrobials is trending downward. While usage dropped some years, it rose significantly in 2021, by 34 percent. The most recent data shows that the amount of antibiotics used in 2022 was higher than it was when the partnership began.

“It seems impossible to reach their goal,” said Liesbeth van der Meer, the vice president of Oceana Chile, a nonprofit conservation group.

Another initiative, the Yelcho Project, is billed as the first public-private effort to reduce antibiotics, bringing together government agencies with Chile’s biggest salmon companies and industry groups, including SalmonChile.

With pressure on the industry to reduce antibiotics, southern Patagonia holds considerable appeal. Mr. Clément argued that the region’s colder waters would limit disease outbreaks, making it easier to reduce antibiotic use.

In search of cleaner farming sites, the industry has settled into the Magallanes. This, some researchers and activists say, could have catastrophic consequences for local ecosystems and for human health, with many questioning whether economic growth justifies industrial aquaculture.

Mr. Antezana’s stilt cottage overlooks waters long used for aquaculture. He has seen firsthand the heaps of garbage and fish waste abandoned by salmon companies in Los Lagos when they leave. The trash sits on shorelines for months, and in some cases, he said that only outrage from local residents forced the companies to clean up. “All of these things,” Mr. Antezana said, “will follow the farms south.”

There are roughly 130 salmon concessions, or licenses for farms, in the Magallanes. This is less than in other major aquaculture regions in Chile, although typically only 50 of these have fish each month, according to a Sernapesca spokesperson. But salmon farming has expanded in the province, which has the highest number of pending licenses, according to Chile’s salmon regulators.

The Magallanes is home to a third of the world’s marine biodiversity and a number of protected species, including the blue whale, the Magellanic penguin and the Chilean dolphin.

Experts with the Interdisciplinary Center for Aquaculture Research at the University of Concepcion say the introduction of salmon can affect invertebrate organisms unique to the region like cold water coralsand sponges. And because farmed fish live on a soybean-based diet, the sea’s chemical compositions will most likely change — just as the waters of Los Lagos have in northern Patagonia.

Production in the Magallanes will increase at first, Dr. Cabello said. “But if they keep doing the same things,” he said, “I have no doubt that after a few years, the productivity will come down again and they will have the same problems: infection, excessive use of antimicrobials.”

But Mr. Clément said that conditions in the Magallanes were different from those farther north, so the outcome wouldn’t be the same.

Mr. Antezana expressed concern that bacteria would have a lower metabolism, slowing the decomposition of farming byproducts. The industry, he said, “went south because the waters were not polluted and because they could say they get clear waters from the glaciers, which sounds great.”

What’s more, he said, since colder water is more dense, it’s more likely that water will become trapped in the deep micro-basins found in the Magallanes, possibly leading to an accumulation of organic matter.

Industry groups are pushing to ramp up production. “The licenses we have on this Magallanes region are very limited,” Mr. Clément said, “so this is something that we need to discuss.”

The extent to which the salmon industry will be able to expand into southern Patagonia is uncertain. Mr. Antezana pointed out that the move is taking place without scientific evidence or rigorous studies to establish possible limits of production.

Politicians have debated whether to freeze or limit concessions on new farms in the southernmost water.

In March 2022, Gabriel Boric was sworn in as Chile’s youngest-ever president. Mr. Boric, now 38, has tattoos in honor of the region where he was raised: the Magallanes.

Even before he was elected, the leftist leader was a vocal critic of the salmon industry, giving environmentalists hope they had a new champion to combat the territorial expansion of the industry.

When he came to power, he vowed to overhaul Chile’s Constitution, which had been in place since the Pinochet era. Voters rejected a 2022 referendum — which would have brought far-reaching environmental reforms. A second referendum also failed last year.

A new law does require salmon farming companies to publicly disclose how much antimicrobials they use, as well as their biomass and mortality rates.

Groups like Oceana and Indigenous activists continue to call on Mr. Boric to do more.

Leticia Caro, a member of the Indigenous Kawésqar community, said she had already seen devastating effects of the salmon industry on her people’s ancestral territory in the Magallanes. She described seafloor contamination, the loss of native fish species her community relies on for food and the dumping of industrial waste in Kawésqar fishing areas.

The Kawésqar have navigated these waters for thousands of years. “In the sea there are spirits and energies that live and coexist with us,” she said via an interpreter. “We want them to leave our territory,” she said.

But some Kawésqar people support the economic advantages of aquaculture.

Ms. Caro wants protected areas to be respected, with no new farms allowed and sanctions to be imposed against companies that cause damage.

Many Indigenous peoples in Chilean Patagonia have been engaged in legal and political struggles to regain land and water rights. These contested areas are considered vital by the salmon industry. In June, separate efforts by Indigenous groups in two regions — Aysen and Los Lagos — were defeated.

Mr. Clément of SalmonChile understands the consumer appeal of fish farmed in remote southern Patagonia. “These very nutritional, healthy and sustainable fish come from very pure, pure waters in pure places,” he said.

It’s unclear how long southern Patagonia will remain so pure. Urging Americans to stop buying Chilean farmed salmon, Ms. Caro said she believes there’s still time “to save the only part of the planet that is almost pristine.”

Mr. Antezana also feels that pressure from abroad will make a difference.

Halfway through the president’s term, the two do not believe the government alone can protect southern Patagonia from the spread of salmon farming.

“Unfortunately, I am not very hopeful,” Mr. Antezana said. “That doesn’t mean that I will give up.”

John Bartlett contributed to this article. Early reporting was supported by a grant from Internews’ Earth Journalism Network, a nonprofit.