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a green striped background with different packets of food that have large red crosses over them
A selection of some recently recalled food (Image: The Spinoff)

KaiMay 22, 2024

Don’t eat that! Food recalls, explained

a green striped background with different packets of food that have large red crosses over them
A selection of some recently recalled food (Image: The Spinoff)

What happens when contaminated food accidentally makes it onto consumers’ shelves? Shanti Mathias explains the process of food recalls.

A small sign at the supermarket announcing a problem with a product you’ve never heard of in your life might be all you ever hear of a food recall. Or maybe, if it’s bad, the recall will make it to the media, as lead contamination of Chelsea Sugar did a few years ago. But how serious does food contamination have to get before a recall notice is issued? Here’s a quick explainer.

Who’s responsible for food safety in New Zealand? 

The Ministry for Primary Industries has a dedicated food safety unit that gives businesses guidelines and certifications for selling food. It also administers the system of food recalls, for which it has a dedicated email alert list that you can sign up to here. A food recall means there is a serious enough problem with a food product that consumers can return it to where they bought it from for a refund. 

Recalls are an expense that businesses accept as part of being authorised to sell food. This can place a burden on smaller businesses: for example, businesses have to write recall scenarios and submit them to MPI, creating plans about what they would do if something went wrong. Recalls can hit smaller businesses that use food ingredients in their products as well as those that sell them directly to consumers. Sugar recalls were devastating for several small bakeries, with one owner telling RNZ she expected to lose $50,000 from having to destroy stock made with 25kg bags of brown sugar. 

a hand holding a shopping list above a shopping trolley that contains milk bananas and spinach
It’s rare, but dangerous, for food you bought to contain contamination (Photo: Getty Images)

What has to happen for a recall notice to be issued? 

No matter how stringent food regulations are, there will be times when stuff slips through the cracks. Food is usually recalled because of one of three things: there is an object in the food that shouldn’t be there, like when an alert was issued recently over metal being found in supermarket-brand pasta; there is an allergen in the food that hasn’t been labelled; or there is a pathogen (a bacteria or virus) in the food that has been identified. In a statement, New Zealand Food Safety deputy director-general Vincent Arbuckle said that recalls often happen at the trade level, before products reach consumers. “If products are already in people’s homes, a consumer-level recall is more appropriate,” he added.

The process is initiated by either complaints to MPI’s food safety hotline, food testing, the food business realising there’s an issue and telling MPI or reports from overseas. If MPI decides that the issue meets the bar for a recall, then it has to be publicised: the retailer has to display notices about the food for at least a month for customers to see, MPI broadcasts the information on its channels, media may write articles about the issue, especially if its widespread. Usually, these notices will identify the specific batch or date of food that has issues. That said, there are instances of food retailers not complying with recalls, like recent stories about the raw fruit juice seller who continued to sell her product, although her business was not registered under the Food Act. “God is my boss, not MPI,” she told Stuff

a shotting trolledy with a coin in the centre and bright green bubly background
If a product you bought is recalled, you can return it to the retailer for a refund Image: Tina Tiller

What if the food comes from overseas?

Last week, New Zealand Food Safety told Reuters it was aware of issues around imports of popular Indian spice blends; high levels of the carcinogenic chemical ethylene oxide, which is used for sterilising food but has been phased out in New Zealand, was found in these products being sold in other countries. The UK has already applied extra control measures to spice imports. It’s a case where the food regulator has learned about an issue due to international reporting – it could lead to a recall, but food testing or changing regulations could be a way to deal with the risk instead. 

“Recalls for imported food follow a similar process to locally produced food, with the additional steps of notifying authorities from the country of origin and relevant international agencies to ensure other countries are aware of the issue through the International Food Safety Authorities Network (INFOSAN),” Arbuckle said.

So where is the bar set for a product to be recalled? 

Browsing through the recent list of recalls, it’s striking to note how few products might have been sold before a national recall was issued. Two supermarkets, for instance, mislabelled their made-in-store caramel peanut butter buns, and had to do a recall in case customers weren’t aware there were peanuts and sulphites in the mislabelled products. In both cases fewer than 12 packs of the product were sold. 

Food recalls are essentially about calculated risk: there’s a relatively low chance that one of 10 people who bought a pack of buns will be allergic to the unlabelled peanuts, but there’s still a chance – and for someone with a severe peanut allergy, the consequences could be dire.  “All recalls are supported by an assessment of risk which considers the severity of the issue and how many people could be affected,” Arbuckle said. “We always follow the evidence and feed that into our risk assessment as recalls develop so we can make adjustments where necessary.”

At the same time, ​​the way that food recalls are issued means that by the time a notice goes up, there’s a high chance the food will already have been eaten, or that the people who bought a product won’t see the notice, especially if only a few products are affected. There are also multiple examples of recalled food being removed from shelves and then put back by mistake, then needing to be recalled again.

That’s all great, but…. do food recalls actually work? 

Research into consumer trust shows that food recalls increase people’s sense that there are risks in the food they eat. For companies, the best way to improve trust is to acknowledge what went wrong and explain what they’re doing to make a difference. Research from Taiwan shows that repeat messages are important: the more people hear about food recalls from people they trust, the more likely it is that they will take the risk seriously and look for more information. Good information about food recalls creates a reinforcing cycle. 

While food recalls can seem like an unwieldy system and can’t prevent all kinds of harm, having regulations that make sure food is safe is really important. Melamine-contaminated formula made by a Chinese company part-owned by Fonterra was consumed by thousands of kids in China, causing a huge amount of harm. As this Stuff story that talks to a family 13 years later shows, the impact of the contaminated food is still being felt today. Arbuckle described food recalls as “a last line of defence” to protect food eaters and remove harmful products from sale. 

Keep going!
A lot of these guys are not doing great. (Image: The Spinoff)
A lot of these guys are not doing great. (Image: The Spinoff)

KaiMay 20, 2024

How are the stocks of the fish on the iconic poster going? ‘Munted’, says one expert

A lot of these guys are not doing great. (Image: The Spinoff)
A lot of these guys are not doing great. (Image: The Spinoff)

Another technical answer: ‘no one really knows.’ 

It smells like hot fat and fish. You hug the warm bundle of newspaper, translucent with grease, swaddling it like a newborn babe. Behind the counter is a small child doing her homework, and the grumpiest Chinese lady in the world. Above you, the iconic New Zealand Commercial Fish Species poster, with all your familiar friends: the noble snapper, the demure whitebait, the dazzling trevally. 

The orange roughy gazes dolefully downwards. He is described by online search engines as “widespread”, “common”, and most importantly, “delicious”. He must be filleted perfectly, as consuming even a smidge of his skin causes explosive diarrhoea. He’s flaky and tasteless. He was renamed in the 1970s to be more marketable and promptly gobbled up by adoring fans. 

How are he and his friends on the poster doing, stock-wise? Not so good. How much not so good? As it turns out, we aren’t really sure.

“The key measure is the sustainability of our fisheries, and overall New Zealand’s fisheries are in good shape, as evidenced through our scientific stock assessments,” says Simon Lawrence, director of science and information at Fisheries New Zealand (a business unit at MPI).

That sounds great, but let’s hone in on our friend the orange roughy. Turns out, MPI’s orange roughy fisheries are in “good shape” the same way I’m in “good shape” until I get winded from eating a kebab too fast. MPI hasn’t been able to complete a full roughy roll call – or in fishery terms, a stock assessment – since 2018. And in hindsight, MPI says the 2018 assessment was “less robust than originally thought”. The information we do have shows that orange roughy are being eaten faster than they are having babies, and though fishing allowances have been adjusted accordingly, the species’ situation remains uncertain. 

Not doing so great (Image: Sealord)

For as much as Aotearoa prides itself as a progressive nature-loving island nation, our marine conservation is secretly ass. “Kiwis probably don’t know the lack of protection we have in New Zealand,” says Caitlin Owers from World Wildlife Fund. “Less than 1% of our ocean is in marine protection areas. We’re tied for last place with China and Russia. We used to be world-leading in terms of establishing marine reserves, but that’s petered out, and now we have a shocking lack of protection.”

Orange roughy are a slow-growing species from the seabed, known to live 120-130 years, attaining a maximum age of 230. When we eat them up, they don’t replenish quickly. Most of our fish are exported to other countries anyway – very little is eaten domestically. Since the quota management system was created in the 1980s to control fish stocks, many of our commercial species have been overfished and depleted, declining by more than 80%. Orange roughy have been poorly managed under this system ever since its creation. 

A lot of our fisheries management decision-making is based on reporting. Boats provide data based on what they’re catching and discarding. As of last year, New Zealand trialled putting cameras on boats, and some very large fibs were revealed.

With the rollout of cameras on boats, the early results show dramatic underreporting on a bunch of different metrics. Kayla Kingdon-Bebb, CEO of WWF, is not surprised. “It’s something that we were expecting,” she says. “The observer effect is a thing, and when people know they’re being watched, they are more likely to be honest. But the figures themselves are very stark.”

She rattles off a list of horrible numbers. There was a 680% increase in the reporting of dolphins being caught and killed. Fishers also reported a 350% increase in interactions with seabirds and the gear on deck, where birds were either caught or killed. The amount of bycatch (extra animals caught by accident) was up massively, and discards – the fish they caught, left to die, and chucked back overboard – shot up by 210%. 

Kingdon-Bebb’s question is simple. “If we’re basing our fishing management decisions off bad data, because it’s been so chronically underreported, what does that say about the levels we’ve set our total annual catch at?”

Kayla Kingdon-Bebb of WWF. (Photo: supplied)

While Kingdon-Bebb always expected underreporting on boats, what concerns her most is  fisheries minister Shane Jones’ response. He has openly considered trying to stop the camera program, or roll it back, or defund it. “I think the data that’s come out of that early reporting is testament to how important that program is. Not just because it’s allowing the industry to be transparent but it’s also going to improve New Zealand’s fisheries management decisions.”

Geoff Keey, marine and fisheries specialist at Forest & Bird, reckons that while the big commercial fisheries do stock assessments, the smaller fisheries sometimes don’t bother. “It’s a little touch and go. Some have to guesstimate, and others have no idea. Some fisheries don’t fill out their paperwork, some only do partial. And when were they last assessed? In a number of fisheries, the answer will be: no one really knows.”

MPI says that where science information is unavailable, they’ll gather information from sources such as iwi, recreational fishing, environmental interests, and other governmental agencies, to name a few. Trends in catch or catch levels are also used as an indicator of the need for management action. This is called a “catch per unit” effort: you try to estimate the fish in the sea based on how hard it is to catch. 

‘He mea tautoko nā ngā mema atawhai. Supported by our generous members.’
Liam Rātana
— Ātea editor

Sometimes this method is reliable, but Keey doesn’t particularly trust it. Time and time again, ever since the first orange roughy fishery was opened, their estimates have been wrong. “Problem is, sometimes fishers get better at catching fish,” Keey says. “Other times, they have bad years. It could look like the population’s going up, but they’re actually just getting better at finding the fish. It’s not a great way, but sometimes it’s the only way there is.”

It’s bloody hard to know what’s going on in the ocean. It’s big, scary, and wet. Te Papa’s colossal squid alone should deter anyone from ever going there. Our marine territory is one of the largest in the world, 15 times bigger than our landmass. Experts estimate that up to 80% of our endemic biodiversity can be found in the ocean, heaps of which remains unknown to science, because marine research is difficult and expensive.

Fisheries aim for “perpetuity”, meaning yoinking most of the fish but leaving a minimum of 30% to reproduce and eat all over again. This is called a total allowable catch. What it means in practice is that we are edging the fish as much as possible. “Total [allowable] catch is set at a level to provide for maximum sustainable yield. It’s a pretty arbitrary number, to be honest,” Kingdon-Bebb says. “It doesn’t set us up for abundance. It doesn’t set us up for recreational fishers, or people who are fishing on a subsistence basis, to be able to pop out on the end of a wharf and feed their family.” Nor, she adds, does it guarantee enough fish for native species to feed on, or climate abundance. “So something in my opinion really untoward is going on in the southern ocean.”

Sea Lion Pup Cuddling with Mom at Sea Lion Island, Falkland Islands
Fishing doesn’t just hurt fish, it also hurts other marine life. (Photo: Getty)

The point is, perpetuity is not the same as thriving. For us humans, it could mean no recreational fishing; for many animals, it means death. Kingdon-Bebb describes to me dying seabirds and the southern squid trawl fishery, or SQU 6T, a boat which haunts subantarctic Aotearoa in search of inky cephalopods. Squid were caught, but sea lion pups from the Auckland Islands were tangled in nets or starved to death as a consequence. MPI recently removed the mortality limit which aims to avoid, remedy, or mitigate the effect of fishing-related deaths on Auckland Island sea lions, stating that it wasn’t very useful anyway. 

To Kingdon-Bebb, that says the picture of our ocean is complex, but concerning. “We have to ask ourselves whether the amount of fish biomass we’re extracting in commercial fisheries is really sustainable or if we’re having such an impact on the health of the southern ocean that it’s now manifesting in declining rates of native species, like sea lions and seals, that depends on those fish stocks to survive. Are we starving them to death?”

Well, are we? Nobody actually knows to what extent fisheries can coexist with nature. No research has ever been funded, says Keey. “The best technical way to describe it is ‘munted’,” he says. “It’s all well if we hoover out half the fish in the sea, but then you have to ask, what about the rest of the ecosystem? Everything in the sea eats everything else. If we take everything out, someone else is probably not getting a feed.”

Orange roughy is fished exclusively by bottom trawling. This is nothing new. Over half of our fishing relies on us dragging nets across the seabed, completely trashing entire ecosystems. That’s less likely to be the stuff you see in your fish and chips, but rather export fishery. The industry argues – and it’s a rather grim argument – that they mostly fish with bottom trawling in places they’ve fished before, so there’s nothing left to destroy anyway. 

Still, we’re insistently gobbling up orange roughy where possible. New Zealand has the biggest orange roughy fisheries in the world, with a total catch of over 8,500 tonnes in 2014. Kingdon-Bebb was shocked, on her recent West Coast trip, to find every restaurant serving orange roughy as fish of the day. It’s hard for her to imagine why it’s even eaten by humans. Ages ago, people said there’d be no market: it’s unsustainable, it’s flavourless, it can make you shit your pants.

MPI, meanwhile, has made catch reductions to a portion of the orange roughy population while they figure out what’s going on. Around $23 million is invested in fisheries science each year. About half of that cost is used for stock assessments and research on commercially caught species. The other half is allocated to research on other species and the aquatic environment, including the effects of climate change and crazy weather events. 

Big Snapper swimming around at Goat Island, New Zealand
A snapper, also not doing great. (Photo: Getty)

MPI promises that the quota management system will provide sustainable fisheries. Kingdon-Bebb beefs. “The quota management system is not set up for conservation or long-term resilience to climate change, or even abundance,” she says. “It’s set up to maximise commercial extraction.”

Keey agrees that MPI has an inherent conflict in the way it is set up. “I have a lot of respect and trust in the people who work there … but they have an inherent tension in an agency that’s meant to both regulate fishing and promote exports,” he says. “It’s not a question of whether the people have integrity, but the agency trying to juggle these very competing priorities.”

Lots of New Zealanders do care about sustainability, and where their seafood comes from. We pride ourselves on our unique nature and relationship with the ocean, but there’s not widespread knowledge about how far our protection has fallen. You can’t make a change if you don’t know about it. 

Kingdon-Bebb believes it’s possible to have the most transparent, sustainable fisheries industry on the planet if we want. “If [fisheries] decide to go down that path, they can command a price premium for it and market advantage, because globally that’s where consumers are going,” she says. “Increasingly, our consumers want sustainably improved products, whether it be yoghurts with low environmental footprints or seafood that doesn’t interact with Māui dolphins. It would be great if the government could help the industry adjust to that.”

For consumers – who are guilted for using straws while big fisheries trawl seabeds to death – transparency from fisheries is paramount so average people can vote with their wallets. If we don’t eat orange roughy, there won’t be a market for it anymore. Things seem gloomy, but the planet always recovers, if we give it a chance. Remember those videos from lockdown, of dolphins frolicking in Venetian canals? Remember the tui and kererū chilling outside your window? Orange roughy has been through a lot. Let’s let him chill. 

Solution? Eat something else instead. Snapper maybe? Oh, wait…

Correction: This article previously referred to “total allowance catch” rather than “total allowable catch”.