NOAA’s Budget Crunch: Trimming fat, or cutting muscle?
Federal programs that keep mariners safe are on the chopping block. What does this mean for coastal communities and small boat fishermen?
By Hannah Heimbuch
Fishermen live in a world without guardrails. No traffic lines. No brakes. Just the limits of our vessels, navigational tools, experience, and the shifting moods of the ocean.
My fishing operation’s primary platform is a 26-foot open skiff, which we use to set and haul nets, gather and deliver fish, and travel around our small corner of the North Pacific. It’s small but seaworthy, and in many conditions, it does the job. But no matter how well we’ve prepared—mending nets, fueling up, maintaining engines and having the right gear—the most critical step in the process is checking the weather.
Not a guess. Not a gut feeling. The actual forecast.
Like hundreds of thousands of other mariners nationwide—fishermen, ferry captains, harbor workers, subsistence hunters, recreational boaters—I rely on the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration’s forecasts, buoys, radar, and alerts to operate safely. So do our families. So do the emergency responders and fellow fishermen who have to brave the storm if we don’t.
But right now, that system is increasingly vulnerable.
Budget cuts don’t just hit offices—they hit oceans
As Congress shapes the FY26 federal budget, we’re facing the most severe proposed cuts to NOAA and the National Marine Fisheries Service (NMFS) we’ve ever seen. These aren’t abstract line items—they’re targeted reductions to the scientists, mariners, technicians, vessels, and data systems that underpin our safety and success on the water.
These cuts come at a time when federal science agencies are already under strain. Recent staffing losses due to federal hiring freezes and layoffs have left critical roles unfilled—hollowing out the capacity we depend on for accurate, timely ocean and atmospheric data.
Out here on an island in the middle of the Gulf of Alaska, I’m reminded every day that even the most local choices—when to fish, how to prepare, whether to haul gear—are directly connected to the work of federal employees. People I’ll probably never meet are maintaining weather buoys, interpreting satellite imagery, and issuing marine warnings. Their data makes it to my phone, my VHF, and my plans—helping me, and hundreds of other harvesters in the region, make the right call.
Hollowing those programs pulls the threads out of a safety net that has quietly served every mariner, every port, and every fishing season for decades.
Forecasts are frontline safety, for everyone connected to the water
When a forecast fails, it doesn’t just put a boat crew at risk. It sends ripples across entire coastal communities.
Weather delays on ferry routes mean missed medical appointments, lost wages, stranded families. Rough crossings for cargo can mean broken gear, spoiled product, or lost income. Rural communities that depend on marine harvests for food and cultural practice are put at risk when storms arrive sooner, stronger, or more erratic than expected.
Whether you work on the water, live beside it, or eat what comes from it—these resources matter. A good marine forecast protects more than a fishing schedule. It keeps communities safe, working and fed. We can’t control the sea, but we can plan for it—with good information.
Some leaders are proposing that the weather service would be better housed in private enterprise rather than a public agency. But while the innovation and access that comes from private sector development is positive, that’s not a simple switch.
Like countless others operating in isolated regions, the expanded access to connectivity tools in recent years has changed how we access weather information—from satellite internet coverage to interactive weather apps. I use the NOAA marine forecast, as well as private apps like Windy, every single day. These private services have become key parts of the mariner’s toolkit. But here’s the thing: they’re all built on a public foundation.
Apps like Windy rely heavily on NOAA for their source data. So do aviation systems, international shipping platforms, and thousands of other public and private services. Without NOAA’s radar systems, satellites, buoys, and expert analysis, that entire information ecosystem starts to break down. And we can’t afford to overhaul that ecosystem without a comprehensive and effective plan in place—it would put countless lives at risk.
We should be deeply concerned about the potential shift toward privatizing core weather services—especially when those shifts could result in added costs for basic safety information. We’ve already seen proposals to restrict or commercialize public data access. That kind of gatekeeping threatens lives, not just livelihoods. In a fair and functioning society, everyone deserves access to the information that helps them stay alive.
A call to those who live close to the water and those who represent us
Fishermen are independent to a fault. We fix our own engines, build our own nets, and take responsibility for the risks we face. We can often be secretive about our catches and find it difficult at times to organize. But not when it comes to safety. When the ocean changes—and it always does—we share information, we aid strangers in distress, we look out for our fleet mates on the water and we rely on each other to make it home safely. Good information, shared systems, and public investments help us prepare for and respond to those needs—together.
NOAA and NMFS provide that backbone. But only if we fund them to do so.
When Congress looks at trimming fat, they need to stop mistaking muscle for waste. NOAA’s services are not extravagant—they are the core tools of marine safety, maritime commerce, and community resilience.
If you live near the ocean, make a living from it, or care about someone who does, you have a stake in this conversation. When you have the chance—at a town hall, a legislative meeting, or in a message to your representatives—ask your elected officials to support NOAA and NMFS.
These agencies may feel distant, but their work is personal and impactful. They help keep us fishing, and they keep us safe. Let’s make sure they’re funded to keep doing so.
Hannah Heimbuch is a commercial fisherman and fisheries advocate based in Palmer, Alaska. She fishes on Kodiak Island and is a contributing author to The Quality Line.
Yes to all of this! Thanks for a great article and yes we need to raise our voices to reps on this issue!