The Curious Case Of The Sri Lankan Stilt Fishermen

Out on the shores off Koggala at the southern tip of Sri Lanka, sitting atop poles driven into the sands of the chest-deep waters from the Indian Ocean, are the famed stilts fishermen. What is unique about these fishermen is that there is very little technology behind their endeavors.

They take a pole, tie a cross beam on it, put some padding on the top of the pole, go out during low tide and sink enough of the pole into the coral reef to ensure it’s upright when the tide and the waves come in. Then they take another pole with a string tied to one end and cast the string out with some bait on a metal hook. Where did they get metal hooks? Well, stilt fishing is not an old practice – less than a century old – so finding the right piece of metal, if not outright manufactured fish hooks, is not difficult. Making the pole required finding the right length piece of wood, snap it off the tree, and perhaps rip off the unnecessary extraneous minor branches off that main branch. Thus, the technology required to sustain a stilt fishing business is minimal: find a couple pieces of wood, buy some string, fashion a hook, and you’re good to go.

The problem is that this style of fishing limits the amount of fish one can catch. Sitting the whole day may yield maybe three to five catches. It’s a slow process, and whatever is caught may need to be brought home to eat or preserve as soon as possible, lest it rots under the wilting sun.

These fishermen are an example of a low-technology industry. Today, in contrast, advanced technologies frighten people who are fearful that their jobs will be replaced by those very same technologies. People fear AI, robotics, and automation. They fear these technologies will eliminate their livelihood or reduce their wage earning power. The stilt fishermen is actually a counter example to show how technology, instead, increases more jobs and opportunities for people, and result in a better outcome for all.

As an alternative to catching fish by sitting on a pole all day, a fisherman might decide to go into even deeper waters, maybe even just half a mile out, and catch with nets instead of bait attached to a hook. In order to use a boat and net, a fisherman has to employ a crew to operate the boat, whether that’s by paddling, punting, manning the sails, or running an outboard engine. Already, in addition to the singular fisherman, there are at least two to three others working specialized tasks not directly related to catching fish.

Oh, were those boats created by just snapping a branch off a tree? To build a seaworthy boat, one would need perhaps a dozen or more skilled craftsmen, using specialized tools (mallets, nails and dowels, waterproof tar, saws, planers, sanders…). Of course, no one would ever bother to build just one boat. It would take generations to learn and advance the skills to build boats, so this “temporal capital” is invested to build many different boats for many fishermen and other boat users. Otherwise, it would not be worth the effort.

Then there’s the net. Creating a net takes time to hand-tie knots. That time and skill are offered by net-makers, knowing they can command a good price from fishermen who need their nets. Eventually, someone will figure out how to create some sort of loom to “weave” the net because the process, while difficult, is rather repetitive. (Why would that be the case? Well, there’s plenty of precedence: looms for weaving other items, especially for clothing, occurred in multiple locations and different eras, which suggests that the technology has been repeatedly invented independently.)

And once a machine to fabricate nets was made and used, it can be refashioned to be used to make other items. Swedish furniture maker IKEA out-sources to manufacturers of other products to make specific IKEA products, when those manufacturers are idle from lack of demand. So, it’s quite plausible that these net-makers could be making N?tt – some sort of bedding material or kitchen furnishing for IKEA, during their net-making lulls.

The bottom line is, using technology to take a boat out to deeper waters enables a fisherman to catch more fish, thereby enriching himself. But the technology needed to make the components of his business – the boat, the sails or paddles, and the net – requires the expertise of many other people. Instead of one person sticking a pole into the sand a bringing up 3 fish a day, it will be upwards of several thousand people involved in building boats, crafting paddles, fabricating sails and nets, making mallets, hammers, saws, nails, dowels, tar; sourcing the raw materials to make the boats, sails, nets, mallets, hammers…

And after the fish are caught, there are sales people to sell the rapidly perishable commodity, preservers who salt and dry the fish for later consumption, cooks who can manage to serve upwards of 200 fish a day, transporters who can move dried, preserved fish deep inland to customers who cannot get fish otherwise, bookkeepers and accountants to ensure fairness in the transactions, and others who might buy the unsold fish to be remade into other uses (fertilizer, perhaps?).

Technology does not reduce jobs. Technology creates new jobs, and the whole history of human civilization has shown this to be true. Every time a new technology is invented, some existing job is removed. But many, many more jobs are created to support new uses of the technology and their byproducts.

If my claim about technology were true, how come the Sri Lankan stilts fishermen are still around? How come their jobs aren’t obsoleted? Actually, they are, mostly. Those people sitting atop the poles are there to cater to tourists wanting to photograph fishermen sitting atop their stilts. They don’t actually catch any fish anymore.