Cod

Cod Plot Summary

Introduction

On a crisp autumn morning in Petty Harbour, Newfoundland, three fishermen prepare their small boat to set out into the Atlantic. They're part of the Sentinel Fishery, now the only legal cod fishery in the region after the Canadian government closed Newfoundland waters to groundfishing in 1992. These men are sentries in the most literal sense—measuring the progress of cod stocks by catching, tagging, and releasing the few fish they can find in waters that once teemed with what locals called "the silver darlings." The irony isn't lost on them: these waters were once so full of cod that early European explorers claimed you could walk across the Atlantic on their backs. This scene captures the endpoint of a remarkable thousand-year story—how a humble fish transformed economies, built nations, sparked wars, and ultimately fell victim to human greed. This narrative traces the journey of Atlantic cod from medieval times to the present, showing how this seemingly ordinary fish became an extraordinary agent of human history. From the Vikings and Basques who first harvested these prolific waters to the international conflicts over dwindling resources, the story of cod is the story of human ambition, innovation, prosperity, and ultimately, environmental reckoning. Through this single species, we witness the rise of international trade, the birth of modern capitalism, the formation of national identities, and our evolving relationship with the natural world.

Chapter 1: Origins: The North Atlantic's Living Gold (900-1500)

Long before Columbus sailed west or European powers established colonial footholds in the Americas, a remarkable economy had already developed around the Atlantic cod. The Vikings were among the first to exploit this resource systematically, developing techniques to air-dry the fish into a woodlike plank called stockfish. This preserved food allowed them to undertake longer voyages, supporting their expansion across the North Atlantic to Iceland, Greenland, and briefly, North America around the year 1000. Remarkably durable, stockfish could be broken into pieces and chewed like hardtack, providing crucial sustenance during months at sea. The Basques, that enigmatic people from the corner where Spain meets France, took preservation a step further. Having access to salt from southern Europe, they developed techniques to salt-cure cod, creating a product that lasted even longer than dried fish alone. Their methods transformed cod into a truly commercial commodity that could withstand Mediterranean heat and extended transportation. This innovation gave the Basques a powerful trading advantage and allowed them to venture farther from home waters. By the late medieval period, they had discovered and begun secretly fishing the incredibly rich cod grounds off North America—possibly centuries before Columbus. The secret couldn't hold forever. A medieval folktale about a cod that spoke Basque when hauled from the sea hints at the connection between this people and the fish. By the 1400s, their monopoly was crumbling as Bristol merchants sent ships westward seeking the source of the Basque cod. In 1497, when John Cabot officially "discovered" the Grand Banks for England, he reported seas so thick with cod that they could be scooped up in baskets—a claim that seemed fantastical but was widely corroborated by subsequent voyagers. The cod trade revolutionized European economies, particularly after the Catholic Church's dietary restrictions created an enormous demand for fish. With meat forbidden during Lent and on numerous feast days—nearly half the days of the year—salt cod became almost a religious icon, a practical solution to spiritual requirements. Markets expanded rapidly from England to the Mediterranean, turning coastal villages into bustling ports and creating new commercial networks. The humble cod was already reshaping political economies, making merchants wealthy and funding the construction of civic buildings, churches, and private mansions. By 1500, ships from Spain, Portugal, England, and France regularly crossed the Atlantic to harvest cod. What made this fish so extraordinarily valuable wasn't just its abundance but its biological characteristics—cod reproduce prolifically, with a single female capable of releasing millions of eggs, they thrive in cold northern waters that preserved their flesh naturally when caught, and they possess very little fat, making them ideal for drying and salting. These natural properties aligned perfectly with human commercial needs, creating what would become one of history's most lucrative commodities. This period established patterns that would persist for centuries: the seasonal migration of fishing fleets across dangerous waters, the competition between nations for access to the best fishing grounds, and the development of preservation techniques that turned a perishable natural resource into a durable trade good. The groundwork was being laid for cod to become not just a food source but a geopolitical prize worth fighting over.

Chapter 2: Commercial Revolution: From Religious Food to Global Commodity (1500-1700)

As the sixteenth century unfolded, cod transcended its medieval role as a religious food and emerged as a global commercial force. European powers, increasingly aware of the tremendous wealth swimming off North America's shores, scrambled to establish claims. While Spain and Portugal focused on gold and silver from their southern conquests, England and France recognized that the true "silver" of the north was the seemingly inexhaustible schools of cod. The fish became so important that when Sir Walter Raleigh addressed Parliament in 1595, he declared that Plymouth's fifty Newfoundland fishing ships were more valuable to England than all the treasures of the Spanish King. The commercial infrastructure around cod expanded dramatically during this period. Ports like Bristol in England and La Rochelle in France grew wealthy from the transatlantic trade. Ships would leave Europe in April, catch and process cod throughout the summer months, and return with holds full of preserved fish to sell throughout Europe. In the age before refrigeration, salt cod was revolutionary—a high-protein food that could be transported thousands of miles without spoiling. This made it not merely a luxury but an essential commodity for growing urban populations, navies, and eventually, plantation colonies. Technological innovation transformed the industry as well. The development of the schooner in Gloucester around 1713 revolutionized fishing vessels. These fast, maneuverable ships with fore-and-aft rigging could make quicker trips between fishing grounds and ports, allowing for more efficient harvesting. Meanwhile, the processing of cod became more specialized, with different grades and cures developed for different markets. The highest quality fish went to Mediterranean countries willing to pay premium prices, while lower grades found markets elsewhere, ensuring that virtually nothing went to waste. The geography of cod fishing shaped colonial development profoundly. While Newfoundland remained primarily a seasonal fishing station where European vessels arrived annually, New England evolved differently. The milder climate and ice-free harbors allowed year-round settlement and a combination of fishing and agriculture. This difference proved crucial—New England developed diverse, self-sustaining communities with trades, crafts, and local markets, while Newfoundland remained economically dependent on the annual fishing fleets. When Massachusetts Governor William Bradford wrote about the Pilgrims' decision to settle at Plymouth in 1620, he noted they chose the location "chiefly for the hope of present profit to be made by the fish that was found in that country." By the mid-1600s, cod had become central to a triangular trade that would transform the Atlantic world. New England merchants sold high-quality cod to Catholic Europe in exchange for manufactured goods and wine. They shipped lower-quality "West India cure" to Caribbean sugar plantations to feed enslaved workers. From the Caribbean, they brought back molasses to make rum, completing a profitable circuit that enriched colonial merchants and tied together disparate regions of the emerging Atlantic economy. This network laid the groundwork for New England's commercial success and growing independence from British control. The end of this period saw cod firmly established as both an economic cornerstone and a cultural symbol. In Massachusetts, the "Sacred Cod"—a carved wooden fish—hung in the state house, acknowledging the foundation of the colony's prosperity. For communities throughout the North Atlantic rim, cod had become more than food; it was the basis of social organization, seasonal rhythms, and collective identity. The fish that had once merely fed Catholic Europe during Lent had transformed into a global commodity driving colonization, trade, and emerging capitalism.

Chapter 3: Empires Built on Salt Cod: Competition for Atlantic Resources (1700-1850)

The eighteenth century witnessed the apex of cod's role in imperial competition, as European nations fought fiercely for control of North Atlantic fishing grounds. What had begun as commercial rivalry evolved into military confrontation, with fishing rights becoming central to international diplomacy and warfare. The Seven Years' War (1756-1763), known in America as the French and Indian War, reshaped the Atlantic world dramatically. When Britain defeated France, they faced a strategic decision: demand France's profitable sugar islands in the Caribbean or their North American cod fisheries. They chose the latter, recognizing that control of the cod fishery meant dominance of Atlantic commerce and naval power. Cod played a surprising role in the American Revolution as well. New England merchants, grown wealthy and independent through the cod trade, chafed under British trade restrictions. The Molasses Act of 1733 and later the Sugar Act threatened their profitable trade cycle between New England, the Caribbean, and Europe. John Adams of Massachusetts, a fierce revolutionary, understood cod's central importance to his colony's economy and identity. During peace negotiations in 1783, he astonished delegates by refusing to sign any treaty that didn't guarantee American fishing rights on the Grand Banks, declaring that the cod fishery was "indispensably necessary to the accomplishment and the preservation of our independence." France recognized the strategic value of cod fisheries even during its own revolution. Despite political upheaval at home, they carefully protected their fishing rights to the small islands of St. Pierre and Miquelon off Newfoundland's coast—their last foothold in North American waters. These tiny islands remained disproportionately important because they allowed France to maintain access to the cod fishery, which they viewed as essential for training sailors and maintaining naval power. This period reinforced the maxim that nations that controlled cod controlled much more than just a food source—they controlled the seas themselves. The industrial wealth generated by cod gradually transformed fishing communities. Once-simple fishing villages like Gloucester, Massachusetts, grew into bustling commercial centers with merchants living in grand homes decorated with carved cod images. A distinct "codfish aristocracy" emerged in New England—wealthy families who had risen from humble beginnings through the cod trade and now stood as the commercial elite. The fish that had built their fortunes became a symbol of their success, appearing on coins, town seals, and weather vanes. For the European and American poor, cod remained a crucial source of affordable protein, but its role in the slave economies of the Caribbean revealed a darker dimension of the trade. The lowest grade of salt cod—the "West India cure"—was specifically produced for Caribbean plantations where enslaved Africans labored in brutal conditions. This cheap protein enabled plantation owners to maximize sugar production without dedicating land to growing food for workers. The hypocrisy wasn't lost on observers like Alexis de Tocqueville, who noted in 1835 that New Englanders denounced slavery while profiting immensely from feeding the very institution they condemned. By the mid-nineteenth century, the cod trade had shaped national destinies, created new social hierarchies, and established lasting patterns of Atlantic commerce. The fish had become so embedded in the economy and culture of Atlantic nations that Henry David Thoreau, visiting Cape Cod in 1851, observed stacks of dried cod on the wharves "looking like corded wood" and recognized them as "fuel to maintain our vital fires—an eastern wood which grew on the Grand Banks." What had begun as a medieval religious food had become the cornerstone of empires and the foundation of a new commercial order spanning the Atlantic.

Chapter 4: Industrialization: Technology Transforms Fishing (1850-1950)

The century between 1850 and 1950 witnessed the most profound transformation in the thousand-year history of cod fishing. Two revolutionary technologies—steam power and freezing—completely reengineered how humans harvested and consumed this ancient resource. In the 1880s, the first steam-powered trawlers appeared in Britain's North Sea fishery. Unlike sailing vessels dependent on wind and weather, these mechanized ships could pursue fish consistently and predictably. The otter trawl, invented in Scotland in 1892, enabled these vessels to drag massive nets along the ocean floor, scooping up unprecedented quantities of cod and other groundfish. The results were immediate and dramatic. Steam trawlers reported catches six times larger than their sail-powered predecessors. Fishing, which had been a skilled craft involving intimate knowledge of fishing grounds and careful handling of lines and nets, became an industrial extraction process more akin to mining than traditional harvesting. While New England and Newfoundland fishermen initially resisted these innovations, clinging to their picturesque but deadly schooners, European fleets aggressively modernized. By the early twentieth century, the North Sea was showing alarming signs of depletion, forcing British trawlers to push farther north to Icelandic waters. Iceland's encounter with industrialized fishing reveals how technology upset traditional balances. Until the early 1900s, Icelanders fished much as they had for centuries—in small open boats powered by oars, using handlines to catch cod close to shore. When the first British-built trawler arrived in Iceland in 1905, it signaled both opportunity and threat. Within decades, Iceland developed its own trawler fleet, transforming from a pre-industrial society of subsistence farmers into a modern fishing nation. The cod trade created Iceland's first capitalists, first working class, and first modern urban centers. As one Icelander later remarked about the changes World War II brought to the fishing economy: "We made money." The second revolutionary technology came from an unlikely source—a Brooklyn-born naturalist named Clarence Birdseye who, while fur trapping in Labrador, observed that foods frozen quickly in arctic conditions retained their flavor and texture when thawed. By the 1920s, Birdseye had perfected his quick-freezing process and founded General Seafoods in Gloucester to apply it to cod. This innovation had profound implications. For centuries, salt cod had been a necessity born of geography and climate—the only way to preserve fish without refrigeration. Now, with freezing technology, fresh cod could reach inland markets, and traditional salt cod began its decline from necessity to cultural specialty. The combination of these technologies—powerful engine-driven trawlers and onboard freezing facilities—culminated in the factory ship. These floating processing plants could stay at sea for months, catching, cleaning, filleting, and freezing fish without returning to port. During World War II, these capabilities were further refined, and by the 1950s, enormous factory trawlers with nets large enough to swallow jumbo jets were systematically harvesting the North Atlantic grounds. Fishing capacity had increased exponentially, but no corresponding advance had occurred in understanding the limits of the resource itself. Industrialization also transformed how consumers encountered cod. Traditional salt cod required knowledge and preparation time—soaking, desalinating, and cooking with specific techniques. Frozen fish fillets, fish sticks, and other processed products required no such expertise. As one Gorton's advertisement from the 1950s proudly declared, fish sticks had "revolutionized the fishing industry" by making fish easy to prepare and eliminating "drudgery" for homemakers. The connection between consumer and fish became increasingly abstract—many inland Americans who regularly ate "fish" had never seen a whole cod and wouldn't recognize one. Technology had not only transformed how fish were caught but how people related to them as food.

Chapter 5: Ecological Crisis: From Abundance to Depletion (1950-1992)

The post-World War II decades marked a turning point in the relationship between humans and cod. The technological capabilities developed during wartime were now turned toward peacetime fishing with unprecedented intensity. Factory trawlers from the Soviet Union, Spain, Portugal, East Germany, Japan, and other nations converged on the legendary fishing grounds of the North Atlantic. These vessels, some as large as 450 feet with capacities exceeding 4,000 tons, operated around the clock, hauling nets every four hours. The hunting of cod had become an industrial extraction process on a scale previously unimaginable. New electronic technologies further transformed fishing from a skilled craft into a scientific pursuit. Sonar and radar, developed to locate enemy submarines, were now used to find schools of fish. Spotter aircraft identified concentrations of cod from above. The age-old fisherman's skills of reading weather patterns, understanding migration cycles, and locating grounds through traditional knowledge were increasingly replaced by technological precision. As a 1950s Gorton's advertisement proudly declared, "Thanks to these methods, fishing is no longer the hit-or-miss proposition it was 50 years ago." The ecological consequences soon became apparent, though they were initially masked by increasing technological efficiency. When catches began declining in certain areas, the conventional wisdom—following nineteenth-century scientist Thomas Huxley's influential teaching—held that fish populations were simply inexhaustible and would naturally recover. "Any tendency to over-fishing will meet with its natural check in the diminution of the supply," Huxley had declared in 1883, "this check will always come into operation long before anything like permanent exhaustion has occurred." This belief in nature's resilience persisted even as evidence mounted to the contrary. By the 1960s, inshore fishermen in places like Petty Harbour, Newfoundland, were noticing alarming changes—smaller fish, fewer cod reaching spawning grounds, and disappearing baitfish like capelin that cod fed upon. They voiced concerns to government agencies but found themselves dismissed as unscientific and anecdotal. Instead, official policy followed the optimistic assessments of large fishing companies and the government scientists who worked closely with them. In Canada, the Kirby Report of the early 1980s outlined ambitious plans to expand groundfish catches by 50% and develop new markets—precisely when the northern cod population was beginning its terminal decline. The race to claim fishing rights intensified as nations recognized the precarious state of fish stocks. Iceland, whose entire economy depended on cod, became the leader in extending territorial waters. In a series of confrontations with Britain known as the "Cod Wars," Iceland progressively pushed its exclusive fishing zone from 4 miles in 1952 to 12 miles in 1958, 50 miles in 1972, and finally 200 miles in 1975. Though no lives were lost, these tense standoffs involved ramming incidents between Icelandic Coast Guard vessels and British trawlers protected by Royal Navy frigates. Iceland prevailed largely because of NATO concerns about losing its strategic North Atlantic base during the Cold War. By the 1970s, the concept of 200-mile Exclusive Economic Zones gained international acceptance. The United Nations Law of the Sea conferences formalized what had begun with Iceland's unilateral actions, and by 1977, most fishing nations had declared their own 200-mile limits. These national enclosures of what had once been international commons were intended to enable better management of fish stocks. However, they often simply intensified fishing within national waters as governments subsidized domestic fleets to replace the now-excluded foreign vessels. Canada, in particular, invested heavily in developing offshore factory trawlers after gaining control of the Grand Banks, ironically accelerating the depletion of the very stocks it had sought to protect.

Chapter 6: The Collapse: Disappearance of the Northern Cod (1992-1996)

On July 2, 1992, Canadian Fisheries Minister John Crosbie stood in St. John's Radisson Hotel to announce what many had feared but few had believed possible: a complete moratorium on fishing for northern cod. The announcement effectively ended a 500-year-old way of life in Newfoundland and Labrador, instantly putting 30,000 fishermen and plant workers out of jobs. Outside the hotel, inshore fishermen who had been warning about declining stocks for years pounded angrily on the doors. The minister who just months earlier had dismissed their concerns now confirmed their worst fears—the northern cod, once so abundant that they were said to slow ships passing through their dense schools, had been fished to commercial extinction. The collapse represented a biological catastrophe of historic proportions. The northern cod biomass had fallen from an estimated 1.6 million tons in the late 1960s to about 22,000 tons by 1992—a 99% decline. What was particularly alarming was how the fish had changed before disappearing. They were reaching sexual maturity at smaller sizes and younger ages—a classic biological response to population stress. Large, old spawners, capable of producing millions of eggs, had been systematically removed from the population. Scientists discovered that cod typically followed migration routes led by older fish, and with those fish gone, traditional spawning patterns had been disrupted, further compromising reproduction. The human toll was equally devastating. Communities that had existed solely because of cod for centuries faced an uncertain future. The Canadian government implemented what locals called "the package"—unemployment benefits and retraining programs for displaced fishermen. But for many, particularly those of older generations, there was no realistic alternative employment. As one Newfoundland fisherman put it, "No one is ever going to stop me from fishing." Yet the moratorium did just that. Fish plants closed, boats were decommissioned, and young people left the outports for mainland cities. The cultural and social fabric of coastal Newfoundland, maintained through 500 years of continuous fishing tradition, began to unravel. Perhaps most disturbing was the collective denial that followed. Rather than fully confronting the human causes of the collapse, many preferred alternative explanations: perhaps the water was too cold; perhaps seals had eaten the cod; perhaps the fish had simply migrated elsewhere. Fisheries scientist George Rose noted that people seemed "prepared to believe anything other than that they have killed off nature's bounty." When small increases in cod numbers were occasionally detected in isolated areas, politicians would face immediate pressure to reopen the fishery, despite clear scientific evidence that the stocks remained at critically low levels. The moratorium, initially announced as temporary, was extended indefinitely in 1993. Scientific assessments suggested that even with zero fishing pressure, the northern cod would need 15 years or more to recover to historical levels. This posed an almost impossible political challenge—maintaining a fishing ban for a generation in communities that had known nothing but fishing for centuries. Meanwhile, the marine ecosystem began reorganizing itself in the absence of cod. Snow crab and northern shrimp, once preyed upon by cod, flourished and became valuable commercial species. Arctic cod, a smaller relative, moved south into the ecological niche vacated by Atlantic cod. By 1996, what had once seemed unthinkable had become the new reality. The great cod fishery of the North Atlantic—the industry that had drawn Europeans across the ocean, built colonial economies, fed millions, and shaped national identities—had ended. While limited fishing continued on Georges Bank and in parts of Europe, the collapse of the northern cod stood as a stark warning about the consequences of mismanaging marine resources. After nearly a millennium of human exploitation, the seemingly infinite bounty of the Grand Banks had proven finite after all.

Chapter 7: Contested Waters: Territorial Claims and Cod Wars (1950-1996)

The second half of the twentieth century witnessed a fundamental reimagining of oceanic sovereignty as nations competed for dwindling fish stocks. For centuries, the principle of mare liberum—the freedom of the seas—had governed international waters, with territorial claims extending only a modest three miles from shore (the traditional range of a cannon shot). This system had allowed distant-water fishing fleets to operate freely across the North Atlantic. However, as modern factory trawlers depleted one fishing ground after another, coastal nations increasingly sought to restrict foreign access to "their" fish. Iceland led this territorial revolution, systematically expanding its exclusive fishing zone in defiance of traditional maritime law. The resulting "Cod Wars" with Britain between 1958 and 1976 seemed almost comical to outsiders—Icelandic patrol boats cutting the nets of British trawlers and engaging in dangerous ramming incidents with Royal Navy frigates. Yet for Iceland, these conflicts were existential. As the Icelandic Prime Minister declared during the third Cod War, "The cod is Iceland's meat and bread... So this is a question of life or death." Britain, with its long tradition as a maritime power, viewed Iceland's claims as a dangerous precedent that threatened freedom of navigation worldwide. The confrontation between national interests and international access played out differently in North America. The establishment of 200-mile Exclusive Economic Zones in 1977 by both the United States and Canada required negotiating their maritime boundary, particularly around the rich fishing grounds of Georges Bank. After years of dispute, international arbitration granted the northeast portion to Canada while the United States retained the larger western section. Meanwhile, European vessels, particularly from Spain and Portugal, concentrated their efforts on the remaining international waters beyond the 200-mile limits, including portions of the Grand Banks and the undersea rise known as the Flemish Cap. These territorial changes transformed diplomatic relations. Nations that had been allies in NATO found themselves in bitter disputes over fish. The European Community (later Union) developed a Common Fisheries Policy in an attempt to manage European waters collectively, but the system was plagued by national rivalries and political compromises that often ignored scientific advice. Spanish fishing vessels became particular targets of resentment in British waters. In the English port of Newlyn, fishermen flew Canadian flags in solidarity when Canada seized the Spanish trawler Estai in 1995 for allegedly violating conservation measures in international waters. The politics of fish became increasingly complex as traditional fishing communities faced simultaneous threats from foreign competition and their own governments' management decisions. In Petty Harbour, Newfoundland, inshore fishermen formed the Newfoundland Inshore Fisheries Association in the 1980s to protest what they saw as preferential treatment given to offshore trawler companies by the Canadian government. Their predictions of stock collapse proved tragically accurate. Similarly, British fishermen in Cornwall and Devon complained that Spanish vessels were depleting their traditional grounds, even as their own government negotiated away fishing rights during European Community negotiations. The end of this period saw a fundamental shift in how nations conceptualized ocean resources. The 1982 United Nations Convention on the Law of the Sea, which came into force in 1994, formalized the 200-mile Exclusive Economic Zone concept that had begun with Iceland's unilateral actions. This represented the largest peaceful territorial acquisition in human history, as coastal nations suddenly gained control of vast oceanic regions. Approximately 90% of the world's commercially valuable fish stocks now fell within national jurisdictions rather than international waters. The freedom of the seas had given way to a patchwork of national claims, driven by competition for increasingly scarce resources. By 1996, this new regime of ocean governance faced its greatest test—the collapse of key cod stocks despite national management. The disappearance of northern cod from Canadian waters and the severe depletion of North Sea and Baltic stocks raised profound questions about whether any management system, national or international, could sustain industrial-scale fishing. The fish that had once seemed limitless had revealed its finitude, forcing a fundamental reassessment of humanity's relationship with marine resources. The contested waters of the North Atlantic had become the stage for a global reckoning with ecological limits.

Summary

At its core, the thousand-year saga of Atlantic cod reveals a fundamental tension between human ingenuity and natural limits. From the Vikings who first dried cod to extend their voyaging range, to the Basques who salted it for international trade, to the factory ships that eventually vacuumed the ocean floor, each technological advance increased our capacity to extract without necessarily improving our understanding of what we were taking. The cod's remarkable biological productivity—a single female producing up to nine million eggs—created the illusion of an inexhaustible resource. This illusion persisted even as catches declined, as we developed ever more sophisticated technologies to find and catch the remaining fish. Only when the northern cod collapsed completely in 1992 did we finally confront the reality that even the most abundant marine species has finite regenerative capacity. The legacy of this history offers crucial lessons for our relationship with natural resources. First, we must recognize that technological efficiency in extraction does not equate to sustainability—in fact, it often accelerates depletion by masking declining abundance until collapse is imminent. Second, management systems must incorporate precautionary principles that acknowledge ecological complexity and scientific uncertainty rather than optimizing for maximum short-term yield. Finally, the voices of those closest to the resource—the small-scale fishermen who first noticed cod's decline—deserve greater weight in decision-making processes than they have historically received. As climate change and continued fishing pressure threaten marine ecosystems worldwide, the story of cod stands as both warning and guide—a reminder that even the most abundant natural resources require careful stewardship if they are to sustain human communities for generations to come.

About Author

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Mark Kurlansky

Mark Kurlansky is an American journalist and author who has written a number of books of fiction and nonfiction. His 1997 book, Cod: A Biography of the Fish That Changed the World (1997), was an international bestseller and was translated into more than fifteen languages. His book Nonviolence: Twenty-five Lessons From the History of a Dangerous Idea (2006) was the nonfiction winner of the 2007 Dayton Literary Peace Prize.

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