Former whaler John Burton, pictured at the old deserted whaling-station on Hvalfjordur, western Iceland.
Enlarge Image
By John Burton
In 1949 I became a boy whaler. In the three ‘seasons’ I spent whaling
in the Antarctic, I felt no disgust at being a participant in the
killing of many Blue, Fin, Sperm and Humpback whale.
Nor did any of my fellow crew members, to my recollection, ever
question or criticise the inhumane aspects of killing whales. In those
days, the idea of animal rights didn’t exist.
At that time, all we
cared about was how many whales were caught on a given day, how many
barrels of whale oil that represented, and how much of that meant for
us in pounds, shillings and pence come pay day at the end of the trip.
For the entire four-month season – apart from the occasional day when
bad weather prevented hunting – the whole fleet worked 24 hours a day
in 12-hour-on, 12-hour-off shifts.
In the three seasons I spent
whaling, I earned roughly £500 – a fortune by today’s standards –
enough, in 1950, to have bought three terrace houses for cash.
And
mindful of the fact that I would have been (as the most junior member
of the crew) one of the lowest paid, imagine what a gunner on a catcher
would have earned in what I now see as ‘blood money’.
Today, as then, whales mean big money. But only to those who are
prepared to circumvent the ban on commercial whaling – killing them
under the guise of ‘research’ and selling them on to commercial outlets.
Looking back, I am now disgusted and ashamed that I ever participated
in such vile and unforgivable acts – assisting in the brutal and bloody
slaughter of such beautiful and intelligent animals.
My remorse is made
greater by the knowledge that I played a part in the killing of not
only one whale, but of thousands.
Perhaps, in the past, a lack of resources made it necessary to kill
whales. Industry, particularly during the war, depended on their
valuable oils, and their meat supplemented the nation’s diet at a time
when of all types of protein were scarce.
But now there is no
conceivable reason that can justify the killing of whales – on
commercial, research or supplementary grounds.
Why have I written this testimony after all these years? My regret and
remorse surfaced in the 1980s, soon after Greenpeace had startled the
world with their audacious direct action against the whaling fleets.
Seeing them in their tiny, vulnerable red inflatables, attaching
themselves to the sterns of huge factory ships, it dawned on me that
here were human beings willing to put their lives at risk to save an
animal that I had been quite prepared to see die for a few pound notes.
Greenpeace has given me an opportunity to expiate in some small way the
guilt I have harboured all these years. Therefore it is now my
intention in the future to do all I can to help Greenpeace secure the
abolition of whale hunting worldwide and provide safe sanctuaries for
the whales’ future survival.