The EconomistFebruary 8th 2020 Asia 312
F
or alongtime,beefhasbeena target
of environmentalists because of cattle
farming’s contribution to global warm-
ing. But what about humble shrimp and
prawns? They may seem, well, shrimpy
when compared with cows, but it turns
out the tasty decapods are just as big an
environmental problem. The issue is not
so much their life cycle: shrimp (as un
statisticians refer to all commonly eaten
species collectively) do not belch planet-
cooking methane the way cows do. But
shrimp farms tend to occupy coastal land
that used to be covered in mangroves.
Draining mangrove swamps to make way
for aquaculture is even more harmful to
the atmosphere than felling rainforest to
provide pasture for cattle. A study con-
ducted in 2017 by cifor, a research in-
stitute, found that in both these in-
stances, by far the biggest contribution to
the carbon footprint of the resulting beef
or shrimp came from the clearing of the
land. As a result, ciforconcluded, a kilo
of farmed shrimp was responsible for
almost four times the greenhouse-gas
emissions of a kilo of beef. Eating a surf-
and-turf dinner of prawn cocktail and
steak, the study warned, can be more
polluting than driving across America in
a petrol-fuelled car.
Eating wild shrimp is not much bet-
ter: catches are declining around the
world as a result of overfishing. Trawlers
can pull as much as 20kg of by-catch
from the sea for every kilo of shrimp. And
reports abound of the appalling treat-
ment of workers on shrimp-fishing
vessels, including human-trafficking
and child labour. When uninvestigators
interviewed a sample of Cambodians
who had escaped virtual slavery on Thai
fishing boats, 59% of them reported
seeing fellow crew-members murdered
by the captain.
Most of the world’s shrimp and
prawns come from Asia. The continent
accounts for 85% of the farmed sort and
74% of the wild catch. Global sales were
around $45bn in 2018 and are thought to
be growing by about 5% a year. But the
industry is controversial, not just be-
cause of its part in global warming. Raz-
ing mangroves also leaves coastal re-
gions vulnerable to flooding. Many
shrimp farms are unsanitary; ponds
often have to be abandoned after a few
years because of problems with disease
and pollution.
All this has given one Singaporeancompany a brain wave. “Farmed shrimps
are often bred in overcrowded condi-
tions and literally swimming in sewage
water. We want to disrupt that—to em-
power farmers with technology that is
cleaner and more efficient,” says Sand-
hya Sriram, one of the founders of Shiok
Meats. The firm aims to grow artificial
shrimp, much as some Western firms are
seeking to create beef without cows. The
process involves propagating shrimp
cells in a nutrient-rich solution. Ms
Sriram likens it to a brewery, disdaining
the phrase “lab-grown”. Since prawn-
meat has a simpler structure than beef, it
should be easier to replicate in this way.
Moreover, shrimp is eaten in lots of
forms and textures: whole, minced, as a
paste and so on. The firm is already
making shrimp mince which it has test-
ed in Chinese dumplings. It hopes the
by-product of the meat-growing can be
used as a flavouring for prawn crackers
and instant noodles. Eventually it plans
to grow curved “whole” shrimp—without
the head and shell, that is.
The hitch is that producing shrimp in
this way currently costs $5,000 a kilo.
Shiok Meats thinks it can bring the price
down dramatically by using less rarefied
ingredients in its growing solution.
People want to know more about where
their food comes from and how it is
harvested, argues Ms Sriram. “Cell-based
technology is one of the ways to provide
that accountability.” And even ordinary
shrimp, whether farmed or fished, come
at a heady price.Brainv prawn
Shrimp-farming in AsiaSINGAPORE
How technology could transform an industry with a dire reputationfaced pressure from influential people and
three-fifths reported that the most com-
mon result of resisting such pressure was
to be transferred to a different post. Anoth-
er survey suggests that such transfers peak
during election years. Vibhuti Narain Rai, a
former state police chief, notes that state
governments’ authority to postpone man-
datory retirement creates another means
of influence, as senior officers trade fa-
vours for a prolongation of their service or
a plum post-retirement sinecure.
Interfering politicians are not the only
problem. The survey in 2019 found that
50% of officers across the country think
that Muslims are “naturally” prone to com-
mitting crimes, and 51% believe that com-
plaints under anti-discrimination laws by
low-caste Hindus are likely to be “false and
motivated”. This may explain why 21% of
those imprisoned while awaiting trial are
Muslim, but only 16% of convicted prison-
ers are—a proportion much closer to their
14% share of the population. The tendency
to arrest innocent Muslims may also reflect
their low numbers in the police force and
stark absence among officers. In 2013 Mus-
lims made up just 2% of the force in Delhi,
and barely 1% in the state of Rajasthan.
Since then the government has stopped
publishing such data.
The survey also reveals rather relaxed
attitudes to such things as procedures and
human rights. Three-quarters of officers
said police were justified in using violence
against criminals, and four-fifths saw
nothing wrong with beating up criminals
to extract confessions.
Critics of the police often trace the
force’s trouble to colonial times, when its
job was to suppress unruly “natives”. The
Police Act of 1861 still provides the main le-
gal framework. Among its archaic provi-
sions is one that stipulates that officers are
permanently on duty. Only very recently
have some states begun to introduce eight-
hour shifts for officers. As under the British
Raj, the 5,000 highly trained, centrally ap-
pointed officers of the Indian Police Service
form an elite corps, superimposed on less-
well-paid and disgruntled state police.
More than 80% of the overall force are bare-
ly trained constables. These footsoldiers’
self-esteem is generally low: on average,
they are likely to receive just one promo-
tion in a lifetime, even as higher officers
sail up the ranks gaining such perks as staff
cars, housing and, all too often, the ser-
vices of constables as personal orderlies.
These failings have long been recog-
nised. Repeated commissions and public
inquiries have demanded reform. The Su-
preme Court itself issued a detailed list of
demands in 2006, following a petition by a
retired officer. Mr Rai, for his part, says
there is no point in tinkering: “No reforms
are possible until and unless the basic
structure of the police is changed.” 7