This post was previously published in Reef Encounter, the news magazine of the International Coral Reef Society, volume 39, no. 2. That appeared in March this year. I’ve decided to put it up here as well, along with a photo by Victor Huertas that reminds us of what we are losing. While it was written for the reef science community, other people should see it too. It may be the last time I say anything about the fate of coral reefs, and the abject failure of humanity to actually rise to the need to take care of this planet. Or maybe in a burst of optimism, I’ll find something new to say about this topic in the future. Anyhow, for what it is worth…
As I write, COP16, the first global meeting of the Convention on Biological Diversity since 2022, has just ended in disarray (November 1st), while COP29, the 29th UN climate change conference is still moving towards its lacklustre finish on November 22nd. In both venues, governments are displaying less than impressive ambition to tackle long evident and growing problems, while being particularly tardy in coming up with mechanisms to generate the financial resources desperately needed if poorer countries are going to be able to cope.
While COP16 agreed on a mechanism to identify ecologically or biologically significant marine areas (EBSAs), the goal of protecting 30% of the planet has stalled and the area of land and water with formal protections for biodiversity has grown only 0.5% since 2020 (New Scientist, 2024). Only 2.8% of the ocean is protected “effectively” (The Guardian, 2024). Never mind the reality of the effectiveness with which such protections are managed. While it is too early to judge success of COP29 (four days to go), finance is once again a major sticking point, and the news released has confirmed that our emissions of greenhouse gases have yet to plateau and begin to drop. Scientists at the meeting are being blunt about the fact that the 1.5oC goal in the Paris Accord is already beyond reach.
[Rereading those paragraphs six months after they were written, I don’t think I was overstating. The world does not seem to be on a better path today than it appeared to be on last November. In fact, there are plenty of reasons to think the situation is even more dire. Still, back to what I wrote.]
This depressing news will not surprise anyone who has followed global progress on climate or biodiversity, but what should this mean for ICRS or for coral reef scientists and managers around the world? Most trivially it should mean that the statement by IPCC (2018) that “Coral reefs, for example, are projected to decline by a further 70–90% at 1.5°C (high confidence) with larger losses (>99%) at 2oC (very high confidence)” can now be rewritten as “Coral reefs are projected to decline by a further >99% at 2oC” because 1.5oC is in the rear-view mirror. When one adds the various non-climate pressures on coral reefs, this typically conservative UN estimate surely flips over to virtually certain eradication by end of this century. The tipping point for coral reefs came some time before nearly all presently active reef scientists and managers began their careers.
[The quote in the paragraph above comes from paragraph B4.2 in the Summary for Policymakers of the statement titled “Global Warming of 1.5°C. An IPCC Special Report on the impacts of global warming of 1.5°C above pre-industrial levels”]
The reef science and management community has done a credible job of informing the public and policy makers on the threats to coral reefs worldwide, and the value of the goods and services flourishing coral reefs provide. Coral reefs are highlighted whenever IPCC talks about the ocean, and, more generally, policy makers in the environmental sphere worldwide are now much more aware than they might have been concerning the existential threats faced by coral reefs in the 21st century. Major bleaching events and outbreaks of diseases impacting key reef organisms arguably gain more press coverage than they would without the efforts of our community to alert governments, policy makers and the general public. There is every reason for organizations like ICRS to continue efforts to publicize the plight of coral reefs and the economic, biodiversity and other losses that will emerge as reefs cease to be.
Reefs will continue for some time to provide a rich array of scientific questions to be explored and there is nothing wrong in reef scientists doing what most of us have always done – study reef questions as examples of the wondrousness that is in this universe. There is still room for awe and for novel scientific discoveries in this universe. But, there is also every reason for reef scientists and managers to contribute to society by striving to identify effective ways to sustain or repair coral reefs in a warming world. We need to approach this task with humility, however, knowing that it still is quite likely they cannot be saved, and will degrade to become much simpler, less productive systems.
Believing in our power to engineer our way out of any problem, an unfortunate trait among some of the more technically able amongst us, is likely not helpful in the real world we inhabit unless it is coupled to a rigorously realistic perspective on the challenges we face. Rather than propagating, cultivating and out-planting of corals likely to succumb to the next episode of bleaching, we would need to truly build a suite of supercoral species that can repopulate the warming benches where reefs used to thrive. And we’d need to do this at scale. When did humanity last create a viable, self-propagating ecosystem of species, and did any of these (I cannot think of one) contain the complexity of relationships that would be needed to replicate the reefs of the past? This will be a very challenging task.
We might do better using assisted migration to move corals (and at least some of the other key reef species) towards geographic regions becoming more favorable for them, if such exist. We’d need to do this carefully, recognizing the risks introductions of novel species can bring, although a plague of out-of-control corals might even be viewed a good thing.
Alternatively, we could investigate what it is about reefs that provides the high level of coastal protection, and the fishery yield of thriving coral reefs, and seek ways to replicate such protection and food production on the limestone benches that will be left as real coral reefs disappear. These creations might look nothing like the reefs of the past. They could be partly manufactured rather than replicated through biological growth, although the cost of manufacture may require that such ventures remain a niche solution. (Nations will have other costs as storms intensify and sea level rises that relate more immediately to keeping people safe and housed.) Then again, perhaps the most useful thing that could be attempted will be to work with communities in coastal regions of the global south to find new ways to live in the absence of thriving coral reefs. As well as ecological/environmental expertise, this would require expertise in fields not well represented in ICRS or in what we typically think of as the reef science community, but it is likely through cross-disciplinary approaches that real progress can be made. Here again, progress is conditional on recognizing that the past cannot be recovered in a human span of time, but surely there will be ecological systems that develop on tropical coasts and human societies that become adept at living within such future ecosystems.
Apart from research and management efforts, it seems to me that the reef science community must continue to speak out to alert the world to what is happening globally. The degradation of coral reefs provides many stories that can capture the imagination as well as clicks on media. What we must strive to achieve is stories that avoid cheap sugar pills of hope in favor of enticing deeper reflection on what it means to be a powerful sentient creature capable of making decisions that modify the future trajectory of this planet.
By sugar pills, I refer to stories like the discovery of ‘the world’s biggest coral’, the invention of a new way of dispersing coral planulae to settlement sites, or a giant survey to document, in further detail, how reefs are failing and where they might be failing more slowly. These are all stories I have seen in the media recently, promoted by reef scientists and/or managers (although likely hyped by the particular outlet), and presented as signs that all may not be as bad as the headlines report. Yet finding a large coral head, scattering planulae by drone, or mounting another global survey to report on the state of reefs do nothing to halt or reverse reef degradation, but lots to divert attention from the existential problem reefs face.
Reef degradation is a slow process, making it difficult to recognize an endpoint when reef attributes and capacities cease to exist. How long will we pretend that functional reefs are still with us because we cannot face the fact that they have gone? Is one small nubbin of coral in the middle of a limestone bench kilometers in extent still a reef?
Nevertheless, stories reporting that reefs are now essentially doomed because of what humanity has done even though it will take a while for their ghosts to drift from view are stories we are well-equipped to tell. And they provide opportunities to reflect on what we can do to replace them, how we can retain the rich diversity they formerly harboured, and how we can create successful ways of living without them, all while reminding ourselves of the foolish hubris and naked greed that have allowed the world to fail for decades to correct fundamentally unwise behavior despite knowing what it would cost. If the loss of coral reefs can be used to wake people up to the need to live within the limits set by the planet that loss will not have been in vain.