May 15, 2006 

By Rebecca Aldworth

Today is the regulated closing day of the 2006 commercial seal hunt in Canada.

I am relieved that the worst is over and the killing has almost ended. But I'm devastated to know that despite worldwide action to stop the hunt, more than 320,000 baby seals died horrible and needless deaths this year.

They are funny things, statistics. It's so easy to forget that every single one of those seal pups were once living beings—that for too short a time, they existed. They nursed from their mothers, they played, and they splashed in pools of water.

One evening in March, they slept innocently as the sun set on them.

And in the cold first light of the next morning, the bloody hunt began. The bewildered pups were clubbed, and hooked, and dragged, and skinned—often while still alive. They were shot, and wounded, and left choking to death on their own blood. They were just days or weeks of age, and they were brutalized in unthinkable ways to feed the whims of the fashion industry.

I know this because I saw it. For the eighth year in a row, I was there, bearing witness.

Why?

In the wake of this hunt, so many people are asking, "Why?" Why was the outrage of the entire world not enough to convince Canada to join the 21st century and outlaw a brutal practice that should have been ended years ago? Why didn't the Canadian government stop the hunt when it became obvious how much of the ice had disappeared, in what is surely the worst natural disaster for the seals in half a century.

For me, the questions go on and on, because I am Canadian, and this year my government proved it would sink to any level—even breaking its own laws—to protect the sealing industry.

I knew it would be a difficult year to film the hunt. Over the past three years, the level of violence from sealers towards observers has steadily increased. And the unprecedented media attention sparked by Heather and Paul McCartney's visit—to the harp seal nursery was sure to sour sealers' moods.

But even I wasn't prepared for what happened.

Violence and Betrayal

As they always do, the sealers shouted insults and threats at our observation team, which included journalists from around the world. But the hostility turned to violence, as they repeatedly charged at our inflatable vessels. I remember the horrible bang as a sealing boat crashed into one of our vessels, the chaos that followed, and the panicked looks on the faces of the observers when it appeared that these sealers weren't just angry but seemingly meant to do us harm.

Later that day, two sealing boats chased our inflatables through the icy waters, trying to ram us. We maneuvered quickly out of the way, struggling not to get stuck in the ice. The sealers screamed obscenities at us and hurled seal carcasses. I remember the bewildered look on the face of the captain from our main vessel when he told us the nearby Coast Guard had ignored his repeated calls for assistance.

And I remember the disbelief I felt, after that long and dangerous day, when Coast Guard officers emerged from hiding on board a sealing vessel and arrested our group of observers instead of the sealers. Our alleged crime: drifting within ten meters of the sealing boat, a violation of our observation permits.

I remember the betrayal I felt when Department of Fisheries and Oceans officers, with whom I've worked for years, informed me they would deny me and my colleagues observation permits for the rest of the hunt.

Held Hostage

And it got worse. Just two weeks later, the violence spread to land as seal hunt supporters literally held our observation team hostage in two Canadian towns at the beginning of the final phase of the hunt. Our observation team included a number of international journalists and a Member of the European Parliament. The crowds were determined to keep us from getting to our helicopters so that we could film the hunt. A seal-hunt supporter in a large truck deliberately smashed into a van driving an international group of journalists, forcing it off the road and over a steep incline.

Still the Canadian government refused to intervene. Under pressure from the U.S. State Department, and the Swiss, British, and Swedish Embassies, the local police escorted us to the airport hours later. I've heard from many people who want to know how those of us who confronted the sealers are doing. I always respond, "We're alive."

I think that is my answer because so many of the seals are not. The fact is that we were the lucky ones. The seals faced a far greater violence than we ever did, and more than 320,000 of them didn't make it out alive.

That's why I am even more committed to making sure this year's was the last hunt we'll ever have to see—that the few pups who survived this year's brutality will never again be subjected to the cruelty of a commercial seal hunt.

And I have reason to hope.

Hope in a Growing Campaign

The sealing industry's anger directly reflects the success of our campaign. A look back over the past few months shows how far we've come. Heather and Paul McCartney exposed Canada's shameful secret to the world—letting people know the hunt is back, and it's bigger and crueler than ever. Italy banned its trade in all seal products, shutting the door to a large segment of the fashion industry. The Canadian seafood boycott gained the support of hundreds of businesses and hundreds of thousands of individuals. The ProtectSeals campaign has achieved incredible momentum worldwide, and I know we are winning.

While most of my memories of the hunt this year are bad ones, there was also one good moment: I was in a rigid inflatable, watching a seal pup as a sealing boat headed directly toward him. The sun was shining, and the pup—completely oblivious to the danger facing him—watched us serenely from his ice pan. We floated there on the ocean and, for a second, time stood still. But then the boat began to crash through the nearby ice pans. The pup looked around in panic and, as if sensing we were there to protect him, began to move towards our boat. I remember staring into the eyes of one of the sealers, as if by sheer force of will I could force him to stop. We all stayed completely still, our cameras rolling as we held our ground. And suddenly, the sealing vessel turned around. In the midst of all of the carnage, one seal was saved.

For that seal, and for all the others, we will continue this fight. And we will win. It is not a question of if, but when. The sealing industry knows it. The Canadian government knows it. And we know it. Please stand by us and win this victory for the seals forever.

Rebecca Aldworth is Director of Canadian Wildlife Issues for The HSUS.