Lately, grief is an emotion that I find myself smothered by. One look at our world and nothing comforting emerges. While at a global level we have wars, environmental disasters, extreme weather events, and a general sense of apathy, I cannot say that the scenario within our country is any better. The atmosphere within the country is supercharged with the 2024 general elections having concluded, but this figurative atmosphere is not the only concern that I have. The literal atmosphere too, has been inundated by decades of greenhouse gas emissions, fuelled largely by greed, capitalism and apathy. Every single month, for the past 12 months, we have consistently remained 1.5℃ above the pre-industrial average levels across the world.
The Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change’s (IPCC’s) Representative Concentration Pathways (RCP) 1.5 scenario seems to be a joke, as climate scientists all over the world share a similar pessimistic view on how the world is failing to tackle climate change. Words of comfort go along the lines of, “focus on what you can do”, or “forget about the problems of the world and concentrate on finishing your PhD”. Unfortunately, even if I take their advice and “focus” on my doctoral study, there is no relief as the system that I study is slowly and painfully dying.
There is no other way to put it. Coral reefs, the ecosystem that I study, are an endangered ecosystem given the age of climate change. You will have read many articles on what coral bleaching and climate change is, and what the world is doing to combat it, but coral reefs and their demise is one of those few planetary tipping points that we will cross sooner rather than later.
Coral reefs, typically constructed by Scleractinian corals (stony corals) have a very narrow preference for where they can survive. Warm and sunlit waters are the ideal place and thus many coral reefs are restricted to the tropical belt. This is a problem though, as tropics generally behave differently from the temperate regions in terms of how they respond to climate change.
Reefs provide crucial functions such as buffer against oceanic waves and underwater view. Photo: Mayukh Dey
According to the latest IPCC report, changes in climate trends are more pronounced in the tropics while the temperate regions undergo higher variability in climatic variables. This would mean that an increase in temperature is noticeable over the past few decades in the tropics and this is of concern for shallow water reefs, because of how much heat the ocean can absorb. Almost 90% of all of the sun’s energy is absorbed by the ocean and as the layer of greenhouse gases insulates the earth even more, much of this excess energy is channelled back into the ocean. Coral reefs are doomed to die, at least in the long run.
“Hope? Let me tell you something, my friend. Hope is a dangerous thing. Hope can drive a man insane. It’s got no use on the inside. You’d better get used to that idea.” This line by Red from the movie Shawshank Redemption, rings deep with me. There is no hope for these ecosystems if current trajectories of “progress” are maintained. There are, however, pockets of resistance; in the reef, I mean. But this too, has a tinge of grief mixed in.
A criticism to most coral reef published research has been about baselines when looking at change, and therefore the reefs they’ve selected to study. Science is not as
A species of Acropora, one of the most important coral on reefs, yet the most susceptible to bleaching events. Photo: Mayukh Dey
objective as it would like to believe and many coral reef biologists often choose to study reefs where “corals grow on the backs of other corals”. This often means that the reefs are dominated by the most speciose and fast-growing genus of corals, the Acropora. Decades of research has shown that Acropora is one of the most susceptible corals to bleaching and as a result, reefs dominated by this genus can show dramatic declines.
Life and habitability is possible on such frontier zones, mainly because of the coral reefs below the water. Photo: Mayukh Dey
Consequently, studies that have monitored such diverse and spectacular reefs often show complete destruction of a functioning ecosystem. But of course, coral reefs are not this diverse and extravagant in many places, and local environment often shapes the community of corals you find in a reef. Lakshadweep, where I study reefs, is an example of such a place.
This does not mean that there are no ‘spectacular’ reefs in Lakshadweep; it’s just not the norm. Lakshadweep, like the rest of the world’s reefs, has been marred by three mass bleaching events since 1998. As I write this article, it undergoes the fourth.
Our work in the Lakshadweep shows concerning trends as it is not just the reefs dominated by Acropora that are affected. Sure, dramatic changes of bleached corals are most pronounced in strands of Acropora but this time, my colleague Wenzel says, “corals of all manner are turning pale and dying”. Honestly, we know what to expect; our work, which is currently in review, highlights how the reefs of Lakshadweep have fared over the past 25 years. Certain areas of the atoll recover better than the rest, but they all show a steady ratcheting down of coral cover.
This has consequences for the 70,000 people who call Lakshadweep their home. Much of the reason people were able to colonise and inhabit Lakshadweep is because of the reefs that surround these atolls. Apart from providing a rich source of nutrition, coral reefs buffer against large oceanic waves and generate sediments that replenish the ephemeral sandbars upon which people dwell. Rainfall then accumulates as a thin freshwater lens beneath these sandbars, creating conditions necessary to sustain life. But then, if the reef keeps dying and recovers slowly after every bleaching event, it is quite obvious that their regulatory and provisioning functions will be compromised. What does that mean for an island community whose homes are barely two metres above sea level? A hint of an answer can be found elsewhere, in places like Kiribati, and Tokelau, two south Pacific atolls currently fighting to keep seawater out of their homes and farms.
Close-up of Goniapora coral polyps melting due to heat. Photo: Wenzel Pinto
How do you sustain yourself when the ecosystem you study has several polyps in the grave? How do you reconcile with the fact that Lakshadweep faces a near certain future where climate change induced environmental disasters become a yearly, if not daily occurrence? What does one do when such a fragile location sees progress in the opposite direction? When scientists and local communities who best know the place and have observed them for decades are silenced, what does it say about the societal values we encourage?
Alive polyps of Goniopora corals. Photo: Mayukh Dey
Even if Lakshadweep is too far away for mainlanders to care about, how are we so unperturbed by the more immediate risks to our lives and livelihoods? Human beings seem to be extremely myopic. We cannot comprehend consequences nor realise the future we are about to inherit. Much like the coral reefs, we too in the subcontinent, are living in extremely narrow climatic conditions. Being in the tropics means the air is often saturated with moisture and as a result, our bodies may not be able to cool down by sweating as temperature increases. This physiological limitation should be a concern for us all and similar to sessile corals on reefs, many of us are in no position to escape the inevitable.
Clearly this piece was not meant to sugar-coat reality nor provide any hope. What do I mean when I say that I feel grief over how our current situation has played out? A part of my thesis is to estimate the wave buffering function of coral reefs at shallow depths. While being tossed around at these wave-beaten depths, my colleagues and I noticed what many scientists have said about extravagant reefs. We were swimming over a stretch that had 100% coral cover with at least 16 different species of corals, and the first thought that came to my mind was, “this will die in a few months”.
Throughout this field season, we have seen some of the most beautiful reefs in the Lakshadweep, and the same thought plagued my mind, “this will all die”. As I was finishing my last dive for the season, off the reefs of Kavaratti, I noticed the entire reef was turning pale, and a few corals had already turned white. “These are all dying,” the only thought that rang in my head.
The sediments in Lakshadweep come exclusively from the reefs, making all manner of life possible on land. Photo: Al Badush
What can hope do when the powers that be are more interested in lining their pockets than caring about the kind of world they leave behind? What can we hope to do when we know bleaching events in the Lakshadweep and around the world are now going to become a recurring event? Hope can be dangerous as well, as many conservation initiatives promulgate the notion that palliative fixes like coral restoration and establishment of Marine Protected Areas (MPAs) can help shield coral reefs from climate change.
I apologise for being blunt, but they will not. At their most benign, they can help alleviate proximate problems that plague coral reefs and thereby offer a few additional years for the reef to remain as it is. At their worst, they can be used to justify ecosystem restoration, and provide a concrete (read, monetary) way of ensuring conservation initiatives are implemented, even legitimising destructive projects in some instances, as is happening in the Great Nicobar.
There is science that shows individual corals are becoming more resistant to thermal stress but these studies are often conducted on a few species and a few species do not make up a reef. This to me, is a problem of scale; a mismatch between the issue of ‘global’ warming and ‘individual’ resistance of corals to thermal stress. Given that we are showing no signs of slowing down our voracious appetite to consume, no amount of ecosystem restoration can help if coral polyps just ‘melt’ away in the heat.
This consumptive attitude of ours is so pervasive that I fear even death and destruction will be looked at with currency in one’s eyes. It isn’t too far-fetched to imagine a new kind of tourism emerging out of these mass mortality events, given how capitalism works. A sort of dark tourism. It is entirely possible that the Lakshadweep in the next century might see relocation of people as climate refugees to mainland India, and there will then be no ‘ethical’ reason to stop minting money from destruction. A dystopian future where large cruise ships set sail from the ports of Mumbai, or on seaplanes, carrying tourists who care only for a few pictures by the beach, and some handouts of ‘Lakshadweep coconut’ as souvenirs is all too probable. But wait, that’s the state of tourism today; the only difference in the future will perhaps be the lack of people in the Lakshadweep to host them. But…what if? What if I’m wrong about the greed and corruption of man? What if there’s more to being human than being a self-serving and myopic organism?
A recovering reef takes almost seven years or so to recover to this state. Photo: Provided by the author
“Remember, Red: hope is a good thing, maybe the best of things, and no good thing ever dies.” Again, a quote by Andy from Shawshank Redemption. Can we perhaps re-examine grief? Grief can be debilitating, crippling our functioning, making us question any sense of agency and identity we may have in this world. But perhaps, grief can be empowering as well. If nothing, it highlights what it is that we’re most affected by, confronts us with our values.
Grief can help find clarity, attract souls who feel the same way as I, illuminate what is truly important to me individually. I am grief-stricken by the plight of this ecosystem, the consumptive and exploitative nature of humans, the inevitable future of the Lakshadweep, and the potential collapse of humanity. But I am not debilitated. My actions may or may not amount to any substantial change but adherence to my values is what helps me sleep at night. What’s your secret to a sound sleep in this unsound world? I pray that the answer to this question doesn’t trouble your conscience, and I’m choosing to view the perspective that doesn’t echo grief.
Mayukh Dey is an ecologist currently working in the Lakshadweep Archipelago with the Nature Conservation Foundation.
