“Tuna in Ancient Greece and Modern Tuna Population Decline”
© DANIEL B. LEVINE
Professor of Classical Studies: University of Arkansas.
[October 25, 2011. John Brown University, Siloam Springs, AR]
(Slide 1: Title Slide)
WHAT ARE TUNA? (Slide 2: What are Tuna?)
Today we have no trouble with this question, thanks to modern taxonomy. TUNA are of the KINGDOM ANIMALIA, the PHYLUM CHORDATA, the CLASS ACTINOPTERYGII, the ORDER PERCIFORMES, the FAMILY SCOMBRIDAE, and the GENUS THUNNUS, whose various species include ALBACARES (Yellowfin), THYNNUS (Bluefin), ATLANTICUS (Blackfin), ALALUNGA (Albacore), and OBESUS (Bigeye). One of the challenges we face when looking at how ancients named animals is to discover how to equate ancient descriptions of animals and plants to our modern names.
When ancient Greeks wrote of tuna, they used terms that we might not find in Linnaeus and his successors. But the Greeks knew what they meant. Their understanding of ‘tuna’ included other Scombridae not technically in the genus Thunnus, including Bonito (Sarda Sarda), and perhaps others.
(Slide 3 Ancient Tuna Names) There is enough evidence to relate some Ancient terms to modern categories:
Ancient Greek Modern Scientific Name
AMIA, PELAMYS SARDA SARDA (BONITO)
AULOPIAS, THYNNIS THUNNUS ALALONGA (ALBACORE)
THYNNOS, ORKYNOS THUNNUS THYNNUS (BLUEFIN)
(Slide 4 Glossary of Greek Fish)
Exact equivalents would be nice, but are not vital. Andrew Dalby (Food in the Ancient World from A to Z, 2003.334;) has sensibly remarked: “The various species in the tunny and bonito group are not always distinguished in everyday language, since what is important to fishermen and cooks is not the species but the size, which depends chiefly on the age of the fish.” D’Arcy Wentworth Thompson says, “No adequate description of the tunny is given by any ancient author, nor did they distinguish one species from another. The fish was too common and familiar to need description” (Glossary 81). Thompson’s book is the Bible of ancient Greek fish lore, containing almost everything known about every fish, including shellfish. It is not surprising that its longest entry — 11 pages — belongs to the Tuna, followed closely by the Purple Shellfish, or Murex — source of valuable purple dye: 9 pages. Perhaps ancient writers paid twice as much attention to these two sea creatures since they were the best of the best — and available mainly to the elites.
(Slide 5: Battleship Speed) Tuna are very large fish that can grow to 14 feet and weigh 1500 pounds. They are “among the fastest, most powerful fish in the world” (Greenberg), and can swim over 40 mph, faster than the fastest warships ever built. They have a slot into which their dorsal fin can retract to achieve faster speeds, and although they are in a phylum of cold-blooded animals, tuna are endotherms: they can raise their body temperature by as much as twenty degrees Centigrade above ambient conditions (Greenberg 199-200, Ivan R. Schwab: British Journal of Ophthalmology 2001 May; 86(5) 497.)
LOVE OF FISH: OPSOPHAGY (Slide 6: Map of the Mediterranean)
The ancient peoples of the Mediterranean valued the tuna immensely. From the Pillars of Heracles in the west to the Black Sea in the East, from Sicily to Sardinia, they hunted and consumed this fish in earnest. The ancients delighted in its taste, and profited by its harvest. They wrote about tuna, drew pictures of tuna, and inscribed their images on coins. This delicacy inspired poets and playwrights, attracted the attention of scientists and geographers, and served as sacrificial offerings to the gods themselves.
(Slide 7: Opsophagy: Greek Love of Fish) Greeks from the classical period onward were crazy about fish in general. Fish was the most preferred dish to accompany their basic diet of grain; it was their favorite relish, or opson. One ancient author (Athenaeus 276e5) writes, “It is no wonder, my friends, that among all the specially prepared dishes which we call an opson, the fish is the only one which has won its way, on account of its excellent eating qualities, to be called by this name, because people are so mad for this kind of food…” and “We give the name “relish eaters,” opsophagoi rather to people who gad about among the fishmongers’ (276f7).
Aelian’s Historical Miscellany records that the people of ancient Rhodes considered those who are fish-lovers the only real gentlemen, and those who prefer red meat to be lesser men:
In Rhodes, it is said, anyone who looks at the fish in the market and admires them and is much more of an epicure than other people — literally, the biggest opsophagos of all — any such person is esteemed by his fellow citizens as a gentleman (eleutherios, literally “a free man”). But a man who shows a preference for meat (τὸν πρὸς τὰ κρέα ἀπονεύοντα) is criticized by the Rhodians as vulgar and gluttonous (ὡς φορτικὸν καὶ γάστριν). Whether they are right in this or mistaken, I shall not deign to discuss. (1.28)
(Slide 8: Davidson Quotation) If you would like to read a whole book on the subject of opsophagy, and its relationship to sexuality and other pleasures of the flesh, I heartily recommend James Davidson’s book Courtesans and Fishcakes: The Consuming Passions of Classical Athens.
(Slide 9: Τuna: The Favorite Fish) And, among the numerous fish that the Greeks harvested, they prized the tuna mightily. Archestratus of Gela wrote an epic poem about luxuriousness, in which he says that as much as eels were valued as the best of all foods, so the fattest tuna is that much superior to the most utterly worthless fish, the so-called “raven fish” (korakinon, Fr. 20 = Ath. 7.249a).
(Slide 10: Tuna on Boeotian Fish List) In fact, Ephraim Lytle’s recent research shows that a Boeotian alphabetical list of seafood from the port of Anthedon names Bluefin Tuna and Boeotian Eels as the most expensive fruits de mer of this region, which is not known for its luxurious living. (Slide 11 Boeotia, with site of Akraiphia and Anthedon).
(Slide 12 Fish Plate) The gourmet Archestratus eloquently praises tuna, suggests the eating of Sicilian tuna slices (temachos), and continues:
And if you come to the holy city of famous Byzantion, / I urge you again to eat a steak of peak-season tuna; for it is very good/and soft (κλεινοῦ Βυζαντίου εἰς πόλιν ἁγνήν, / ὡραίου φάγε μοι τέμαχος πάλιν· ἔστι γὰρ ἐσθλὸν/ καὶ μαλακόν.) (Fragment 39 = Athen. 3.116f-17b, tr. Olson/Sens)
(Slide 13: Picture of Tuna) Greeks valued tuna in many forms. They served it by the grilled slice (temakhos), and they dried, salted, and pickled it, making the important staple tarikhos (preserved fish), which was shipped throughout the Mediterranean.
EATING TUNA (Slide 14: Opsophagy to Bankruptcy)
We know a few things about the ancients prepared tuna. One of the earliest references to its attractive flavor comes from the sixth-century BCE iambic poet Hipponax of Ephesus, who wrote a poem about a man who literally wasted his life by luxuriously overindulging in tuna with a savory sauce:
“For one of them, dining at his ease and lavishly (ἡσυχῇ, ῥύδην) every day on female tuna and savory sauce (μυσσωτόν) like a eunuch from Lampsacus, ate up his inheritance; as a result now he has to dig a rocky hillside, munching on cheap figs and coarse barley bread, fodder for slaves (δούλιον χόρτον).”(Hipponax Fr. 26, = Athen. Deipn. 7.304).
It is a free man, as the Rhodians told us, who eats tuna. Slaves cannot afford it.
Note also that the eunuch to whom Hipponax compares this gourmand hailed from Lampsacus, a wealthy town near Troy within the Hellespont, just southwest of Byzantium. There is a reason for this. The area around Byzantium was Tuna Heaven.
(Slide 15 Eating Tuna) This savory sauce, μυσσωτός/μυττωτός, greatly complemented the tuna. Sometimes translated as olio, mussotos was a mess of cheese, honey, and garlic beaten together, a type of mince meat (LSJ). One ancient Greek food writer says the following about this delicious combination: “And then from the sea there is tuna, no mean food (οὐ κακὸν βρῶμα), but one that stands out among all fish in a savory sauce [(ἐμπρεπὴς ἐν μυσσωτῷ)” Ananius, in Athen. Deipn. 7.282b].
Greeks especially esteemed the fat-rich belly-pieces of tuna (ta hypogastria, Athen. Deipn. 7.302f), as do the contemporary Japanese, who call it o-toro. Other edible pieces include the shoulders, or ‘keys’ (kleides = claviculae), and the head (Athen. Deipn. 303a). Two lost comedies by Antiphanes apparently praised the ‘middle slice of the very best Byzantine tunny’ and the ‘tail-cut’ (to ouraion) of the female tuna (Athen. Deipn. 304a). We turn again to the Sicilian epicure and epic poet Archestratus, who provides a rapturous recipe for this tail cut, but cautions against serving it incorrectly:
And have a tail-cut from the she-tunny — the large she-tunny, I repeat, whose mother-city is Byzantium. Slice it and roast it all rightly, sprinkling just a little salt, and buttering it with oil. Eat the slices hot, dipping them into a pungent brine (drimeian es halmen); they are nice even if you want to eat them without sauce (literally: dry), like the deathless gods in form and stature. But if you serve it sprinkled with vinegar, it is ruined. (Fr. 38 = Athen. Deipn. 7.303e)
(Slide 16: Pliny on Thunni) The Greek authors who praise tuna do not mention one of the side effects that the Roman Pliny mentions in his Naturalis Historia: “When this fish is cut up into pieces, the neck, the belly, and the throat are the most esteemed parts; but they must be eaten only when they are quite fresh, and even then they cause” according to Bostok & Riley, “severe fits of flatulence (gravi ructu),” or, in the 1601 translation of Philemon Holland, “make him belch sower.” Healey’s Penguin translation renders “severe indigestion.” You can decide which uncomfortable gaseous eruption the Elder Pliny means. Pliny’s bottom line, as any sushi lover will tell you, is: eat it fresh… or else (NH 9.18 [47] in Perseus = 9.2 [3]).
TUNA MIGRATION (Slide 17: Tuna Migrate/Right Eye)
Tuna got around more than other fish, a fact which fascinated the ancient Greeks, not just because they were scientifically curious, but also because accurate knowledge of fish migration led to rich fish harvests. Great shoals of tuna used to migrate in and out of the Black Sea, which the Greeks called the Pontus. Aristotle in the fourth century BCE wrote:
Tunnies, pelamyds and bonitos enter the Pontus in spring and spend the summer there, and so do practically the majority of the shoaling and gregarious fishes (hoi pleistoi ton rhuadon kai agelaion ikhthuon). (HA 598a20).
Aristotle and others carefully observed these migrations in the narrow channels of the Propontus near Byzantium, and made a strange observation about tuna’s eyesight as a result:
“The tunny swim inwards while keeping the shore to their right; some say they do this because they see more sharply (oxuteron) with the right eye, not having sharp sight by nature (ouk oxu blepontes)” (Aristotle, Hist. An. 598b19). This factually incorrect statement finds repetition in both Pliny’s Natural History (9.50 Penguin) and Aelian’s On Animals (9.42).
Aelian cites a tragedy by Aeschylus that mentions this curious fact about tuna eyes:
“And that they see with one eye and not with the other is admitted by Aeschylus when he says [fr. 308N]: “Casting his left eye askance like a tunny.” (τὸ σκαιὸν ὄμμα παραβαλὼν θύννου δίκην).” The expression “like a tuna” came to be proverbial, and is preserved in Erasmus’ book of proverbs in its Latin translation Thunni more (Erasmus’ Adagia: 2412. – 3.5.12).
(Slide 18: Golden Horn) Pliny records the tradition that a bright stone, shining from the bottom to the surface on the Asiatic side of the Bosporus near Chalcedon (saxum miri candoris a vado ad summa perlucens iuxta Chalcedonem in latere Asiae NH 9.22) so frightens the migrating tuna that the startled fish swim in fear towards Byzantium opposite, where they provide a rich catch and thus give the “Golden Horn” its name (ex ea causa appellatum aurei cornus).
(Slide 19: Map of Mediterranean; Oppian on Tuna Migration) Oppian’s epic on fishing speaks more poetically of the tuna migration from the Atlantic past Spain, France, Italy, and Sicily:
The breed of Tunnies comes from the spacious Ocean, and they travel into the regions of our sea when they lust after the frenzy of mating in spring. First the Iberians who plume themselves upon their might capture them within the Iberian brine; next by the mouth of the Rhone the Celts and the ancient inhabitants of Phocaea (Massalia) hunt them; and thirdly those who are dwellers in the Trinacrian isle (Sicily) and by the waves of the Tyrrhenian Sea. Thence in the unmeasured deeps they scatter this way or that and travel over all the sea. Abundant and wondrous is the spoil for fishermen when the host of Tunnies set forth in spring. (Oppian Hal. 3.620ff.)
(Slide 20: Tagged Bluefin 2009 route in Gulf overlaid with Macondo Well oil spill Tag-A-Giant.org). The spring is the important time for the migrating tuna to spawn. Atlantic bluefin tuna lay their eggs in the Gulf of Mexico in April, at roughly the same time that BP’s Deepwater Horizon oilrig exploded this year. It remains to be seen what kind of damage this environmental disaster has caused to the already dwindling Atlantic bluefin populations. This slide shows the route of a single bluefin tuna in the spring, a year before the Macondo well exploded, overlaid with the slick which the spill produced.
(Slide 21: Tuna vs. Alexander the Great) Pliny the Elder admires the great size and strength of tuna: Praecipua magnitudine thynni (9.17 (15) [44]). In the midst of discussing sea monsters of the Indian Ocean, he tells of a school of tuna so massive that it actually threatened Alexander the Great and his ships: “At other times again, there are such vast multitudes of tunnies met with, that the fleet of Alexander the Great was able to make head against them only by facing them in order of battle, just as it would have done an enemy’s fleet (hostium acie obvia contrarium agmen). Had the ships not done this, but proceeded in a straggling manner, they could not possibly have made their escape” Pliny NH 9.2 (3) [15] [tr. Bostock 1855].
HUNTING TUNA (Slide 22: Hunting Tuna)
The Chorus of Knights in Aristophanes’ fifth-century BCE comedy of the same name makes fun of the greed of the Athenian politician Cleon:
As a furious torrent, [Cleon], you have overthrown our city; your outcries have deafened Athens and, posted upon a high rock, you have lain in wait for the tribute moneys as the fisherman does for the tunny-fish (thunnoskopôn: literally, ‘acting as a tunascope’ ‘a watcher for tuna’).” (Ar. Knights 303-312)
(Slide 23: Hunting Tuna with Towers and Nets) Aristophanes’ audience would have understood this as a reference to the thunnoskopoi, men who went to high bluffs or mounted tall “tuna towers” to watch for the migrating fish and to direct the operations of the boats which would set out on the hunt.
We possess a great deal of information about how and where the Greeks hunted and harvested tuna. Here he geographer Strabo describes their capture at Byzantium. You will find the description familiar.
The Horn, which is close to the Byzantines’ city wall, is an inlet extending about 60 stadia towards the west. It resembles a stag’s horn, being split into several inlets, branches as it were. Into these the young tunny (pelamydes) stray, and are then easily caught because of their number and the force of the following current and the narrowness of the inlets; they are so tightly confined that they are even caught by hand (καὶ χερσὶν ἁλίσκεσθαι)… When they have reached the Kyaneai and entered the strait, a certain white rock on the Kalkhedonian side (λευκή τις πέτρα) so frightens them that they cross to the opposite side, and there the current takes them: and the geography at that point is such as to steer the current towards Byzantion and its Horn, and so they are naturally driven there, providing the Byzantians and the Roman people with a considerable income. (Strabo 7.6.2)
Indeed, an inscription found in the area of the narrow straits that connect the Black Sea to the Aegean, describing large-scale seine and salt-fish operations there confirms Strabo’s observations. It was set up “by fishermen who had leased the rights to a tuna tower.” Ancient Fish scholar Ephraim Lytle has shown that “the hierarchically arranged list of individuals and duties corresponds to a single large-scale seine and salt-fish operation,” containing named individual fishermen and their duties. He also points to the existence of “similar operations in various locations stretching from the Sea of Marmora to the Saronic Gulf to the Cyclades.” [(I. Parion 5: = Die Inschriften von Parion (IK 25, 1983), T. E. Lytle, 2006: APA abstract]
Ancient descriptions of these tuna fishing operations give us a vivid image of the process. Since the fish was so large, Aelian says that tuna fishing was like “Whaling,” or “Big Fishing” (keteian), and that in Italy and Sicily there were “big fish tackle storehouses” (ketothereia). In fact, the Greeks generally used the word for whale, ketos, for large tuna. Aelian’s description of the Tuna Towers used in the Propontis is vivid and detailed:
Now the inhabitants of the whole of that country know exactly of the coming of the Tunny, and at that season of the year (mid July) the fish arrive, and much gear has been got ready to deal with them, boats and nets and a high lookout place (σκοπιὰ ὑψηλή). This lookout place is fixed on some beach and stands where there is a wide, uninterrupted view. Two high pine-trunks held apart by wide balks of timber, are set up; the latter are interwoven in the structure at short intervals and are of great assistance to the watchman in mounting to the top. Each of the boats has six young men, strong rowers, on either side. The nets are of considerable length; they are not too light and so far from being kept floating by corks are actually weighted with lead, and these fish swim into them in shoals (ἀθρόαι).
And when the spring begins to shine and the breezes are blowing softly and the air is bright and as it were smiling and the waves are at rest and the sea smooth, the watcher (σκοπός), whose mysterious skill and naturally sharp sight enable him to see the fish, announces to the fishermen the quarter from which they are coming; if on the one hand the men ought to spread their nets near the shore, he instructs them accordingly; but if closer in, like a general he gives the signal, or like a conductor, the keynote (ἢ χορολέκτης τὸ ἐνδόσιμον). And frequently he will tell the total number of fish and not be off the mark.
And this is what happens. When the company of tunnies makes for the open sea the man in the lookout who has an accurate knowledge of their ways shouts at the top of his voice telling the men to give chase in that direction and to row straight for the open sea. And the men after fastening to one of the pines supporting the lookout a very long rope attached to the nets, then proceed to row their boats in close order and in column, keeping near to one another, because, you see, the net is distributed between each boat. And the first boat drops its portion of the net and turns back; then the second does the same, then the third, and the fourth has to let go its portion. But the rowers in the fifth boat delay, for they must not let go yet. Then the others row in different directions and haul their part of the net, and then pause. Now the tunny are sluggish and incapable of any actions that involves daring, and they remain huddled together and quite still. So the rowers, as thought it were a captured city, take captive — as a poet might say — the population of fishes. (Aelian On Animals 15.5)
Oppian preserves an account of the operation, which does not make use of an artificial tower, but rather, as in Aristophanes, a high point above the sea:
There first a skilful Tunny-watcher (θυννοσκόπος) ascends a steep high hill, who remarks the various shoals, their kind and size, and informs his comrades. Then straightway all the nets are set forth in the waves like a city, and the net has its gate warders and gates withal and inner courts. And swiftly the Tunnies speed on in line, like ranks of men marching tribe by tribe — these younger, those older, those in the mid season of their age. Without end they pour within the nets, so long as they desire and as the net can receive the throng of them; and rich and excellent is the spoil.” (Oppian Hal. 3.620- 648)
Seeing the tuna is the important thing if most cases. Since the days of the tuna towers, Mediterranean tuna hunters in modern times have used helicopters and spotting aircraft — even when it has been declared illegal, as we shall see.
TUNA AND THE GODS (Slide 24: Tuna and the Gods)
The prayers of the fishermen at the precarious moment when the tuna have been caught but not yet brought out of the net remind us that the whole operation was fraught with uncertainty. Aelian’s account of Black Sea tuna operations also explains why the fishermen pray to Poseidon at the crucial moment:
When Tunny have been caught by fishermen of the Euxine (and I might add off Sicily also) when they are safely enmeshed in the net, then is the time when everybody prays to Poseidon the Averter of Disaster (ἀλεξίκακος) it is worthwhile to explain what induced them to attach the name “Averter of Disaster” to the god. They pray to the brother of Zeus, the Lord of the Sea, that neither swordfish nor dolphin may come as fellow traveler (συνέμπορος) with the shoal of tunny. (Aelian On Animals 15.6)
(Slide 25: Delphi Corcyrean Bull) Just as Simon is the patron saint of fishermen and St. Zeno is the patron saint of fish-hooks, so Poseidon was the Greek god who received the prayers of fishermen. The second-century CE traveler Pausanias tells of how the people of Corfu came to dedicate a giant statue of a bull to Poseidon at Delphi — as the result of a giant catch of tuna:
On entering the enclosure [at Delphi] you come to a bronze bull, a votive offering of the Corcyraeans made by Theopropus of Aegina. The story is that in Corcyra a bull, leaving the cows, would go down from the pasture and bellow on the shore. As the same thing happened every day, the herdsman went down to the sea and saw a countless number of tunny-fish. He reported the matter to the Corcyraeans, who, finding their labour lost in trying to catch the tunnies, sent envoys to Delphi. So they sacrificed the bull to Poseidon, and straightway after the sacrifice they caught the fish, and dedicated their offerings at Olympia and at Delphi with a tithe of their catch. (Pausanias 10.9.3)
You can see its base today, just to your right when you enter the Peribolos of Apollo at Delphi. It strikes me as odd that the Corcyreans would kill the bull that was acting as a thunnoskopos for them; it was the bull that told them when the tuna were passing by, and was thus responsible for their rich harvest. At any rate, this story reminds us how lucrative the hunting of this fish could be, and how much the Greeks attributed to the divine their successful pursuit of the tuna.
(Slide 26: Tuna Sacrifice?) Mammals were the preferred sacrifice for the Olympian deities of course, due to their large supply of blood, but tuna, because of the fact that they alone among fish have an abundant amount of blood, were probably acceptable sacrifices to Poseidon (Jean-Louis Durand in The Cuisine of Sacrifice Among the Greeks, ed. Detienne/Vernant. 1989. 127). In fact, tuna meat is redder than most fish: “Unlike most fish species, which have white flesh, the flesh of tuna is pink to dark red. This is because tuna muscle tissue contains greater quantities of myoglobin, an oxygen-binding molecule, than the muscle tissue of most other fish species.” (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tuna).
Athenaeus cites Antigonus of Carystus: “the people of Halae, when they celebrate a festival to Poseidon in the tunny season (hupo ten ton thunnon horan), offer to the god in the event of a good catch the first tunny caught; and this offering is called a thynnaion (tunny offering)” (Athen. Deipn. 7. 297e; (7.303b?)).
In addition to offering fresh tuna to the gods, there is evidence that the people of Phaselis offered preserved fish (tarikhos) to their local hero as a regular part of his worship. Lacius, the founder of the colony, met a shepherd, and asked him which he preferred as payment for the area: barley-meal or smoked fish (e alphita e tarikhous). The shepherd, perhaps because he was far from the sea, chose the smoked fish (tous tarikhous). Ever after, then, the Phaselites annually sacrifice smoked fish (tarikhon thuousi) to the shepherd, honoring him as a hero (Deipn. 298c).
Greeks occasionally offered cooked fish as sacrifices. A poem in the Greek Anthology mentions a net-fisher who gives a grilled red mullet and hake (τρῖγλαν ἀπ᾿ ἀθρακιῆς καὶ φυκίδα) to Artemis of the harbor as a “poor sacrifice” (τὴν πενιχρὴν θυσίην) in hopes that that goddess would fill his nets with fish in return (6.105, Apollonides). An inscription from Cos twice mentions the ἀποπυρίς sacrifice to the dead and heroes, consisting of small fish, taken right off the coals, thus the name (Inscriptions of Cos, Payton & Hicks, p. 75, #36 b, lines 4 and 24.) We find references in Athenaeus to the red mullet, triglê, as sacrificed to the goddess Hecate because the first part of its name recalled the goddess’ tri-form nature (τρίμορφος γὰρ ἡ θεός, τριοδῖτις road, τρίγληνος glance, τριακάσι graveside dinner /ἀποδίδοται/θύεσθαι 7. 325 Β). In Rome the Ludi Piscatorii featured a sacrifice to Vulcan, perhaps as protector of the Tiber, consisting of throwing little fish live into a fire, to help guarantee safety of human lives (quod id genus pisciculorum vivorum datur ei deo pro animis humanis Festus 274L; see Varro 6.3).
(Slide 27: Ancient Jewish Tuna Meals?) The Roman satirist Persius (1st century CE) enigmatically refers to a Jewish holiday, perhaps the Sabbath, which includes wine, specially decorated lamps and “the tail of tuna fish swimming coiling around the red bowl” (Sat. 5.180-84, S. Braund, tr.). After antiquity, Jews ate fish as a Sabbath treat, and so Persius’ comment has led several scholars to associate Jewish eating of tuna with the ancient cena pura, a special ancient Jewish meal. The tuna, being traditionally the largest and best-quality fish, would be appropriate as a special food, and likely served as a symbol of “the cena pura, the Friday evening meal, or as the normal meal before a Festival, at which fish was eaten” (Erwin Goodenough, Jewish Symbols in the Greco-Roman Period, 1953-1956 v. 5, 45).
(Slide 28: Gods Fishing,Met Museum) I cannot resist showing this vase from the late 6th century BCE that shows Poseidon, Heracles, and Hermes fishing. There is no reason to think that these gods are waiting for tuna to bite, and no evidence whatsoever about what they hope to catch. I simply show it as evidence that the Greeks saw that even the gods were interested in fish — in spite of the fact that they could not eat them. Greek gods only ate ambrosia.
ETYMOLOGY OF THUNNOS (Slide 29: Etymology)
The movement of these fish gave the Greeks a notion of the origin of their name. They derived the name tuna (thunnos) from the verb thuno, that means ‘to dart, or move quickly,’ (Deipn. 302b), and Oppian uses the etymology to make a pun when he refers to the ‘dashing Tunny’ (thunnoi thunontes), as being ‘most excellent among fishes for spring and speed’ (Oppian Hal. 1.179). However, D’Arcy Wentworth Thompson throws cold water on this fishy etymology: “The word θύννος is non-Hellenic, like much else of the vocabulary of the Greek fishermen (βύσσος, κῆτος, πίννα, σαγήνη, int. al.); but its origin is unknown” (79).
OISTROS: PLAGUE ON THE TUNA (Slide 30: The Gadfly)
The ancients remarked on the parasite they called oistros which attached itself to tuna. This parasite, probably the copepod Brachiella thynni, or Cecrops Latreillii, made a great impression on ancient fish observers. Aristotle gives us the first description of this so-called ‘gadfly’: The “gadfly” (oistros) which infests the tunny is found round its fins (pterugia); it is like a scorpion (skorpiois), and about the size of a spider (arakhnes). (Aristotle HA 557a27). Athenaeus adds that the oistros is like a small maggot (skolekion). Aristotle also tells us that the tuna is worse to eat in the summer, when the oistros plagues it, and better to eat (agathos) in the fall, when it stops suffering from the gadfly (oistron pauetai), a “fact” which Athenaeus duly repeats (Deip. 301e).
Numerous authors, Aristotle included, describe how this parasite is responsible for a gadfly-frenzy that makes both tuna and swordfish leap out of the water, sometimes into ships (Arist. HA 602a25, Pliny NH 9.54, Oppian Hal. 2.506-532 ). Oppian’s epic poem on fish provides the most picturesque description, of course:
The Tunny and the Sword-fish are ever attended and companioned by a plague (πῆμα), which they can never turn away or escape: a fierce gadfly (ἄγριον οἴστρον) which infests their fins and which, when the burning Dog-star is newly risen, fixes in them the swift might of its bitter sting (κέντρου), and with sharp assault stirs them to grievous madness (χαλεπὴν δ᾽ἐπὶ λύσσαν ὀρίνει), making them drunk with pain (θηρήξας ὀδύνσιν). With the lash of frenzy it drives them to dance (φοιταλέῃ μάστιγι χορευέμεν) against their will; maddened (μεμηνότες) by the cruel blow they rush and now here, now there ride over the waves, possessed by pain unending (ἀνήνθτον ἄλγος ἔχοντες). Often also they leap into well-beaked ships, driven by the stress of their distemper; and often they leap forth from the sea and rush writhing upon the land, and exchange their weary agonies for death; so dire pain is heavy upon them and abates not This pain (ἄλγος) the fishes suffer even as do the cattle. (Oppian Hal. 2.506-532)
(Slide 31: Brachiella thynni) Modern Scientists have found that this symbiont copepod is very common, occurring on 70% of populations in the Atlantic and Caribbean. The tiny organism probably did not cause misery to its hosts, and the frenzy which the ancients mention was probably their explanation of why fish jump: their name oistros refers to a very painful horse-fly type insect that drove people and quadrupeds to distraction; so it logically followed that fish who are afflicted by a similarly-named parasite should be equally miserable.
IMAGES OF TUNA (Slide 32: Gades Coins)
Not many painted or sculpted images of tuna survive from the ancient Mediterranean world, with the exception of a few vase paintings, and the coinage of several states, notably Gades (near the Pillars of Heracles), and Cyzicus (in the Propontis, at the entrance to the Black Sea). This is not surprising, because these two areas were the most well-known for tuna fishing wealth. The citizens of these states at opposite ends of the Mediterranean paid tribute to their plentiful natural resource by putting images of tuna upon their coins. The Tuna that they caught at the narrows of the Pillars of Heracles and the Bosporus became their badge. The Punic people of Gades in Spain (modern Cádiz) minted coins with the head of their god Melqart (the Phoenician Heracles) on the obverse, and images of tuna on the reverse.
(Slide 33: Cyzicus Tuna Coin Capital) The Greek state of Cyzicus in the Propontis, however, in my mind can claim the title “Tuna Coinage King.” Over the span of almost three hundred years Cyzicus minted thousands of coins with the tuna image on practically every one. In fact, it is hard to find a Cyzicene coin without a tuna. These are only a small selection (Slide 34: Cyzicus Tuna on Coins). (Slide 35: Tarentum: Phalanthos spearing tuna). And note the city-state of Tarentum in the arch of the boot of Italy, where tuna were a major cash producer. They have a tradition of showing their founder Phalanthos (or Taras) riding on a dolphin. On this two-drachma silver coin, we see the hero spearing an unmistakable tuna.
(Slide 36: Katsuwonus Pelamis) Today, some fish-producing countries have revived the ancient practice by putting images of tuna on their coins and stamps, as reminders of the continuing importance of this noble fish. (Slide 37: Thunnus on Stamps; Slide 38: Canada; Slide 39: Tuna on Coins; Slide 40: US Bluefin Tuna Stamp). While these depictions represent the pride of tuna producing countries, stamps can also advertise the dangers of over-fishing (Slide 41: Bermuda), as these special issue Bermuda examples demonstrate, printed in conjunction with the World Wildlife Federation.
(Slide 42: Santorini Fisher Boy). The pleasure in catching and profiting from sea creatures is endemic to sea-faring peoples. From the Minoan culture of the Aegean to our own day (Slide 43: Sport Fishermen), we take pride in our catch, and rejoice that the sea provides such rich bounty. The tuna, that tastiest of fish, and one of the mightiest, is a special trophy.
PROSPECTS FOR THE FUTURE OF TUNA (Slide 44: Athenian Trireme/ tuna cans)
We modern humans might match the ancient Greeks in our enthusiasm for catching and consuming tuna, but we also pose a great danger to their continuing existence. Sport fishermen thrill to the feeling of the raw power of these wild fish; sushi-lovers crave its rich fatty flesh; mothers and fathers rely on it as a source of salads and sandwiches to feed their families and bring to pot-luck suppers. However, the massive schools of tuna that used to range the Mediterranean and the world’s great oceans have dwindled precipitously. International agreements to control the taking of the most coveted varieties have failed. Mediterranean tuna harvesting and aquaculture farms have prevented them from reaching their spawning grounds. Humanity’s short-term gustatory gratification is currently leading to possible long-term — and permanent — population decline. Sport fishing of tuna has not caused the great depredations of the tuna population that more modern industrial harvesting techniques have. We saw that the Greeks devised various ways of corralling and killing tuna on a great scale, but their efforts did not reduce tuna numbers to dangerous levels. (Slide 45: Long Line Fishing). The modern use of long-line hooks catches great numbers of tuna, but does not discriminate in their favor, and the “by-kill” ratios are hazardous to other marine populations. (Slide 46: Purse Seine) The ancient Greeks used large purse seines to trap their prey, but modern versions of the same mode of capture are more efficient, and many times more numerous. The great danger here is that immature fish are taken with the mature ones, and do not get the chance to spawn. (Slide 47: Spotter Planes) Furthermore, the ancient Greek tuna towers have given way to modern spotter aircraft, which can scan great swaths of water, and which unfortunately operate even during peak spawning season, in violation of prohibitions issued by the European Union and the International Commission for the Conservation of Atlantic Tuna (ICCAT).
(Slide 48: Nat Geo April 2007) The US public is growing aware of the plight of the once-plentiful larger tuna, in particular the bluefin. Three years ago National Geographic magazine’s Fen Montaigne wrote “So many giant bluefin have been hauled out of the Mediterranean that the population is in danger of collapse” (April, 2007, 42), and he reported that in 1990’s several stocks of bluefin “had been fished to between 6 and 12 percent of the original numbers in the South Pacific and Indian Oceans” (47). The Japanese, who now import 90% of the world’s bluefin tuna catch, have turned to the Mediterranean, where great numbers of the giant fish still swim between northern Africa and Europe. Montaigne found that “The value of the bluefin caught annually in Libya, then fattened for several months, is roughly 400 million dollars on the Japanese market” (50). (Slide 49: Japanese Tuna) This sudden “bump” in tuna production flooded the market, and as a result, “Japanese companies have stockpiled 20,000 tons in giant freezers” (50). These deep-frozen tuna stocks are also insurance against the possibility that some time in the future the world will agree to a moratorium on harvesting the bluefin.
(Slide 50: Monterey Bay Aquarium) The Monterey Bay Aquarium has been a leader in informing the public of the danger of overfishing, (Slide 51: Four Fish) and last year’s publication of Paul Greenberg’s New York Times Bestseller Four Fish has again brought the bluefin tuna’s plight to public attention. (Slide 52: Looting the Seas) Less than one year ago, the International Consortium of Investigative Journalists released the results of a seven-month investigation entitled “Looting The Seas.” The study shows that “the rapid demise of Eastern Atlantic bluefin tuna… is due to a $4 billion black market, a decade of rampant fraud, and lack of official oversight” http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2010/11/08/bluefin-tuna-black-market_n_779465.html#s175591 (slide 53: Black Market NYT Blog page), prompting a large New York Times exposé on “Black Market in Bluefin Tuna”.
(Slide 54: Tuna Replacement?) How to save the bluefin? Proposed solutions include the creation of “safe areas” in the seas, enforcement of quotas on catching them — current limits are violated with impunity — and educating people and corporations about the need to let the tuna re-populate. Replacing tuna consumption with other comparable, more plentiful fish, and ones that can be easily farmed is another tack. Finally, governments that subsidize the massive fishing fleets that ply the world’s oceans could re-direct their investments to sustainable fishing and breeding programs. There are now an estimated four million fishing vessels active worldwide — “nearly double what is needed to fish the ocean sustainably” (Montaigne 51). (Slide 55: ICCAT) In fact, just last year “member countries of the International Commission for the Conservation of Atlantic Tuna (ICCAT) gathered in Paris to decide on a host of recommendations in the hope of preserving the fish from collapse, including a possible moratorium on industrial bluefin fishing” (Huffington Post, above). As in the past, instead of proposing a moratorium on bluefin, they suggested a moderate TAC (“Total Allowable Catch”) of 12,900 tons, which they hope will be enough to provide stability to the population. It is my opinion that they did not take the bold action that seems necessary. That’s why ICCAT’s detractors mockingly refer to it as “International Conspiracy to Catch All Tuna.”
(Slide 56: Toro Tuna Belly) All this is difficult. As long as people crave bluefin tuna and are willing to pay, fishermen will continue to provide it — legally or otherwise. Its red fatty meat is the pinnacle of perfection for sushi lovers: the Japanese are the single biggest market for bluefin. A single wild bluefin tuna can fetch $10,000 (Greenberg 237), but in January of 2010, a 510 lb bluefin tuna caught off the northern tip of Japan’s main island Honshu sold for $175,000 at auction, “bought jointly by one of the city’s most up market restaurants, and an entrepreneur from Hong Kong who runs a chain of sushi bars” (Roland Buerk, BBC News Tokyo: January 5, 2010 http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/8440758.stm).
(Slide 57: Pavlovian Opsophagy) We conclude with a story from Strabo, the first-century author we cited above. Strabo relates an anecdote from Iasos in Asia Minor, which shows, perhaps, the futility of our attempts to save ourselves from our unbounded appetite for fish, which surpasses even our love of the arts. I call this Ancient Greek Pavlovian Opsophagy.
Next comes Iasos, lying on an island, facing the mainland, and it has a harbor, and the majority of the people’s livelihood there comes from the sea (ἐκ θαλάττης). For it is well supplied with seafood (εὐοψεῖ), and the land does not produce much. And indeed they make up stories of the following sort about it (διηγήματα τοιαῦτα). When a kithara-playing singer was giving a demonstration of his art (ἐπιδεικνυμένου), for a while everyone (πάντας) was listening to him, but when the bell rang which announced the opening of the fish market (ὁ κώδων ὁ κατὰ τὴν ὀψοπωλίαν), they all left to go to the fish market (ἐπὶ τὸ ὀψόν), except for one man who was hard of hearing (ἐνὸς δυσκώφου). So the musician approached him and said, “Good sir, I thank you very much for your respect towards me and for your love of the muse (φιλομουσίας), for the others immediately set off when they heard the bell ring. And the man said, “What’s that you say? Has the bell already rung?” And when the musician said it had, he said, “Fare thee well,” and stood up and went off to the fish market himself. (Strabo 14.2.21)
(Slide 58: Opsophagy Rules) Thus, we end where we began. Ancient Greeks were opsophagoi — great lovers of delicacies, with a fish food fetish, and would pay great prices for the finest products, especially tuna. The harvest of this fish was enormously profitable; its flavor universally admired. Like the ancients, we use elaborate and efficient means of catching the tuna, which have become an important part of our diet and our economy. The best tuna fetch astronomical prices. But the main difference between “then” and “now” consists of our present power to put an end to the existence of this species, due to two other characteristics we share with the ancient Greeks: we love to eat the best fish, and we are clever hunters.
Fish are irresistible. Tuna are the best fish to eat, and we are willing to pay for them to please our palates. Opsophagy rules.
This material copyright 2011, Daniel B. Levine, University of Arkansas. Permission required for use. dlevine@uark.edu
© DANIEL B. LEVINE.
Recent Comments