Despite being separate from basically every form of civilization, Antarctica isn't totally a lawless wasteland where only the strong survive. At least not for the human population, at any rate. Most activity down here is governed by the laws of whatever country the base belongs to, but even more so under what is known as the Antarctic Treaty. I think I've joked about it in past articles, but there are actions and behaviors that could violate that treaty. I probably should have talked about what this treaty is earlier, but here we are.
First some history. The Antarctic Treaty was signed originally in 1959 by the twelve countries that had active scientific research on the Ice. It went into effect properly in 1961, and is still active today. Right now, some 56 nations have signed the treaty.
There's a lot to it, as one would expect with a government document, but the three main tenets of it are that Antarctica will remain a peaceful continent, scientific investigation will be done freely and shared willingly, utmost care for the environment will be maintained, and additional bits and bobs as the need arises--like for commercial tourism and other non-government agendas.
I think it's fair to call the Treaty something more like guidelines than hard and fast laws. For one, how much you can actually enforce "international law" is not something I'm willing to debate in these paragraphs; and two, at the lower levels, there's not much we can do one way or the other. We follow company policy, and company policy is dictated by the Treaty. So if we want to keep our job, I suppose we're technically aligned with the Treaty.
So messing with the animals is a no-go. And considering "messing with" isn't exactly a legal term, that generally means don't disrupt them in any way they wouldn't normally experience. We've been told that if an animal reacts to your presence, you're too close. Of course, that's unavoidable sometimes. If a skua flies down and starts pecking around your feet while you're taking the garbage out, there's not much you can really do. In fact, I think you'd be in violation if you tried to shoo it away.
Even the opportunity to bother the animals has to be thought about carefully. On one of the drives out to Willy Field, a seal pup was making its way across the ice. It was still a good fifty feet from our shuttle, but the driver had to stop and let it makes its full journey across the road and further to the other side before we could continue on. If we had kept driving and maybe spooked it by being too close, that would have been negligence of the Treaty on our driver's side. While I doubt that would have incurred any real fine or punishment, it's still something that we have to think about in our daily activities.
Of course, there are some times when you can't help it. Penguins are notoriously curious, and apparently at least once a year, some bird gets it in its head to investigate the strange tall beings wandering around and will waddle into McMurdo proper. So someone ends up accidentally close to the penguin, and of course you're going to take a picture. And when that picture ends up on social media, it becomes a headache that the National Science Foundation has to investigate and confirm that the bird was at fault, not the person. And I doubt they can get the penguin to pay a fine. (And in case you're wondering, wildlife infractions can end up with a fine somewhere around $30,000.)
But while the penguins and the seals are the starlets of Antarctica, they are far and away outnumbered by the micro life that lives here. Places like Dry Valley have their own unique and intricate microscopic web of life, and much of it has been uninterrupted by human activity for decades. So when excursions are offered to these remote locations, you have to go through a separate training to know how to interact with these precariously balanced locales. Even something as simple as leaving a footprint in the loose rock could have lasting consequences at the microscale. But again, while tripping and leaving a gravel angel might be frowned upon, it likely won't get you fined. Just remember to be aware of all your various liquids, lest you contaminate the environment in unseen ways.
(Everything is a sticker down here)
And then of course there's the souvenirs, or lack there of. You can't take things from Antarctica. If you came across a penguin skull out on a hike, it needs to stay right there. Find a cool object that could be historical? Got to call that in for official pickup and review. You can't even take a rock home, so clean your boots off before getting on your flight back home. For those of you who know about hiking and camping, Take Nothing, Leave Nothing is in effect down here as well. (Although that hasn't stopped people from stealing things from the Discovery Hut or other areas before; someone always has to ruin it for the rest of us.)
For most of us, the Treaty is more like a vague notion rather than an omnipresent overseer. We've got rules to follow and the sword of Damocles that our employment could be affected if we are unwise, but that's pretty standard stuff. I think the most interesting part of the Treaty as a regular Joe is that I am a representative of my country with it. I don't think I could do anything to truly damage the reputation of America in Antarctica, but in some small way, I'm part of the larger picture of the spirit of scientific inquiry that permeates this continent.
But the temptation to pet the penguins is still real.
No comments:
Post a Comment