Data to Decision in a Dynamic Ocean: Robust Species Distribution Models and Spatial Decision Frameworks

Human use of the oceans is increasingly in conflict with conservation of endangered species. Methods for managing the spatial and temporal placement of industries such as military, fishing, transportation and offshore energy, have historically been post hoc; i.e. the time and place of human activity is often already determined before assessment of environmental impacts. In this dissertation, I build robust species distribution models in two case study areas, US Atlantic (Best et al. 2012) and British Columbia (Best et al. 2015), predicting presence and abundance respectively, from scientific surveys. These models are then applied to novel decision frameworks for preemptively suggesting optimal placement of human activities in space and time to minimize ecological impacts: siting for offshore wind energy development, and routing ships to minimize risk of striking whales. Both decision frameworks relate the tradeoff between conservation risk and industry profit with synchronized variable and map views as online spatial decision support systems.

For siting offshore wind energy development (OWED) in the U.S. Atlantic (chapter 4), bird density maps are combined across species with weights of OWED sensitivity to collision and displacement and 10 km2 sites are compared against OWED profitability based on average annual wind speed at 90m hub heights and distance to transmission grid. A spatial decision support system enables toggling between the map and tradeoff plot views by site. A selected site can be inspected for sensitivity to a cetaceans throughout the year, so as to capture months of the year which minimize episodic impacts of pre-operational activities such as seismic airgun surveying and pile driving.

Routing ships to avoid whale strikes (chapter 5) can be similarly viewed as a tradeoff, but is a different problem spatially. A cumulative cost surface is generated from density surface maps and conservation status of cetaceans, before applying as a resistance surface to calculate least-cost routes between start and end locations, i.e. ports and entrance locations to study areas. Varying a multiplier to the cost surface enables calculation of multiple routes with different costs to conservation of cetaceans versus cost to transportation industry, measured as distance. Similar to the siting chapter, a spatial decisions support system enables toggling between the map and tradeoff plot view of proposed routes. The user can also input arbitrary start and end locations to calculate the tradeoff on the fly.

Essential to the input of these decision frameworks are distributions of the species. The two preceding chapters comprise species distribution models from two case study areas, U.S. Atlantic (chapter 2) and British Columbia (chapter 3), predicting presence and density, respectively. Although density is preferred to estimate potential biological removal, per Marine Mammal Protection Act requirements in the U.S., all the necessary parameters, especially distance and angle of observation, are less readily available across publicly mined datasets.

In the case of predicting cetacean presence in the U.S. Atlantic (chapter 2), I extracted datasets from the online OBIS-SEAMAP geo-database, and integrated scientific surveys conducted by ship (n=36) and aircraft (n=16), weighting a Generalized Additive Model by minutes surveyed within space-time grid cells to harmonize effort between the two survey platforms. For each of 16 cetacean species guilds, I predicted the probability of occurrence from static environmental variables (water depth, distance to shore, distance to continental shelf break) and time-varying conditions (monthly sea-surface temperature). To generate maps of presence vs. absence, Receiver Operator Characteristic (ROC) curves were used to define the optimal threshold that minimizes false positive and false negative error rates. I integrated model outputs, including tables (species in guilds, input surveys) and plots (fit of environmental variables, ROC curve), into an online spatial decision support system, allowing for easy navigation of models by taxon, region, season, and data provider.

For predicting cetacean density within the inner waters of British Columbia (chapter 3), I calculated density from systematic, line-transect marine mammal surveys over multiple years and seasons (summer 2004, 2005, 2008, and spring/autumn 2007) conducted by Raincoast Conservation Foundation. Abundance estimates were calculated using two different methods: Conventional Distance Sampling (CDS) and Density Surface Modelling (DSM). CDS generates a single density estimate for each stratum, whereas DSM explicitly models spatial variation and offers potential for greater precision by incorporating environmental predictors. Although DSM yields a more relevant product for the purposes of marine spatial planning, CDS has proven to be useful in cases where there are fewer observations available for seasonal and inter-annual comparison, particularly for the scarcely observed elephant seal. Abundance estimates are provided on a stratum-specific basis. Steller sea lions and harbour seals are further differentiated by ‘hauled out’ and ‘in water’. This analysis updates previous estimates (Williams & Thomas 2007) by including additional years of effort, providing greater spatial precision with the DSM method over CDS, novel reporting for spring and autumn seasons (rather than summer alone), and providing new abundance estimates for Steller sea lion and northern elephant seal. In addition to providing a baseline of marine mammal abundance and distribution, against which future changes can be compared, this information offers the opportunity to assess the risks posed to marine mammals by existing and emerging threats, such as fisheries bycatch, ship strikes, and increased oil spill and ocean noise issues associated with increases of container ship and oil tanker traffic in British Columbia’s continental shelf waters.

Starting with marine animal observations at specific coordinates and times, I combine these data with environmental data, often satellite derived, to produce seascape predictions generalizable in space and time. These habitat-based models enable prediction of encounter rates and, in the case of density surface models, abundance that can then be applied to management scenarios. Specific human activities, OWED and shipping, are then compared within a tradeoff decision support framework, enabling interchangeable map and tradeoff plot views. These products make complex processes transparent for gaming conservation, industry and stakeholders towards optimal marine spatial management, fundamental to the tenets of marine spatial planning, ecosystem-based management and dynamic ocean management.

Spic'ing into Existence: Epitaph, Epithet, and the Ethnopoetic Imagination

Quién Es, Quién Somos? Spic’ing into Existence claims a four-fold close-reading: first, analysis of texts: from theoretical meditations to (prison) memoir and film. Second, a half dozen central figures appear, largely Latinx and black American. They cut across a score of registers, socio-economics, ideological reservations, but all are, as Carl Carlton sang, poetry in motion. Writers, poets, theologians, pathologists, artists, comedians, actors, students whose vocation is invocation, the inner surge of their calling. Third, the manuscript draws from a series of historical moments—from radical liberation of the late 60s, to contemporary student activism. Finally, this body of work is movement, in all its social, gestural, and kinesthetic viscera. From this last heading, we peel away layers of what I call the ethnopoet, the fascia undoing that reveals its bio-political anatomy, dressing its bare life with kinship speech. First, the social revolutions of the Civil Rights, Black Power, abolitionism, the Black Panthers and Young Lords, boycotts and jarring artistic performances. These events are superficial not in vain sense, but key epicenters of underground murmurings, the workings of a cunning assailant. She robs not lavish estates, but another day to breathe. Gesturally, as perhaps the interlocutor, lies this author, interspersing his own diatribes to conjure her presence. The final branch is admittedly the most intangible. Kinesthetically, we map the nimbleness, footwork lígera of what I call the ethnopoet. Ethnopoet is no mere aggregate of ethnicity and poetry, but like chemical reaction, the descriptor for its behavior under certain pressures, temperatures, and elements. Elusive and resisting confinement, and therefore definition, the ethnopoet is a shapeshifting figure of how racialized bodies [people of color] respond to hegemonic powers. She is, at bottom, however, a native translator, the plural-lensed subject whose loyalty is only to the imagination of a different world, one whose survival is not contingent upon her exploitation. The native translator’s constant re-calibrations of oppressive power apparatuses seem taxing at best, and near-impossible, at worst. To effectively navigate through these polarized loci, she must identify ideologies that in turn seek “affective liberatory sances” in relation to the dominant social order (43). In a kind of performative contradiction, she must marshall the knowledge necessary to “break with ideology” while speaking within it. Chicana Studies scholar, Chela Sandoval, describes this dual movement as “meta-ideologizing”: the appropriation of hegemonic ideological forms in order to transform them (82). Nuestros padres se subieron encima de La Bestia, y por eso somos pasageros a ese tren. Y ya, dentro su pansa, tenemos que ser vigilantes cuando plantamos las bombas. In Methodology of the Oppressed, Sandoval schematizes this oppositional consciousness around five principle categories: “equal rights,” “revolutionary,” “supremacist,” “separatist,” and “differential.” Taken by themselves, the first four modes appear mutually exclusive, incapable of occupying the same plane, until a fifth pillar emerges. Cinematographic in nature, differential consciousness, as Sandoval defines it, is “a kinetic motion that maneuvers, poetically transfigures, and orchestrates while demanding alienation, perversion, and reformation in both spectators and practitioners” (44). For Sandoval, then, differential consciousness is a methodology that privileges an incredible sense mobility, one reaching artistic sensibilities. Our fourth and final analytic of movement serves an apt example of this dual meaning. Lexically speaking, ‘movement’ may be regarded as a political mobilization of aggrieved populations (through sustained efforts), or the process of moving objects (people or otherwise) from one location to another. Praxis-wise, it is both action and ideal, content and form. Thus, an ethnic poetics must be regarded less as a series of stanzas, shortened lyric, or even arrangement of language, but as a lens through which peripheralized peoples kaleidecope ideological positions in an “original, eccentric, and queer sight” (43). Taking note of the advantages of postponing identifications, the thesis stands its ground on the term ethnopoet. Its abstraction is not dewey-eyed philosophy, but an anticipation of poetic justice, of what’s to come from callused hands. This thesis is divided into 7.5 chapters. The first maps out the ethnopoet’s cartographies of struggle. By revisiting that alleged Tío Tomas, Richard Rodriguez, we unearth the tensions that negatively, deny citizenship to one silo, but on the flipside, engender manifold ways of seeing, hearing, and moving . The second, through George Jackson’s prison memoirs, pans out from this ethnography of power, groping for an apparatus that feigns an impervious prestige: ‘the aesthetic regime of coercion.’ In half-way cut, the thesis sidesteps to spic into existence, formally announcing, through Aime Cesaire, myself, and Pedro Pietri, the poeticization of trauma. Such uplift denies New Age transcendence of self, but a rehearsal of our entrapment in these mortal envelopes. Thirdly, conscious of the bleeding ethnic body, we cut open the incipient corpse to observe her pathologist. Her native autopsies offer the ethnic body’s posthumous recognition, the ethnopoetics ability to speak for and through the dead. Chapter five examines prolific black artists—Beyonce and Kendrick Lamar—to elide the circumvention of their consumption via invoking radical black hi/her-stories, ones fragmenting the black body. Sixth, the paper compares the Black Power Salute of the 1968 Mexico City Olympics to Duke’s Mi Gente Boycott of their Latino Student Recruitment Weekend. Both wielded “silent gestures,” that shrewdly interfered with white noise of numbed negligence. Finally, ‘taking the mask off’ that are her functionalities, the CODA expounds on ethnopoet’s interiority, particularly after the rapid re-calibration of her politics. Through a rerun of El Chavo del Ocho, one of Mexican television’s most cherished shows, we tune into the heart-breaking indigence of barrio residents, only to marvel at the power of humor to, as Friday’s John Witherspoon put it, “fight another day.” This thesis is the tip of my tongue. Y por una vez, déjala que cante.