I know this is probably what we’re all thinking after watching the trailer for his new—and possibly final—film Ocean, a call for one last push to save our dying planet.
Because it is dying. And we are killing it, one ChatGPT question at a time.
David paints a pretty horrifying picture—and devastating as it is, he hits the nail on the head. Coral reefs globally are war zones, swathes of desolation littered with the corpses of fallen coral fragments. A coral “soldier” is actually made up of two interconnected parts: the coral polyp (the skeleton) and its endosymbiotic zooxanthellae.
Don’t freak out! “Endosymbiont” is a fancy term that simply means an organism living inside its partner, creating a mutually beneficial relationship. Zooxanthellae are a type of algae that form partnerships with coral, and there are many different “flavours” of zooxanthellae, each with its own heat-resistant powers (more on this later).
The reason these brave warriors are collapsing isn’t due to dark magic—something even worse than Lord Voldemort: heat.
Yes, I know—“But Joe, what do you mean heat? I love a hot bath now and then!”
Okay… but imagine being stuck in that bath. Forever. A full sweat session from hell. You’re like a dried-out prune, dizzy, and your rubber duck has melted. That’s what it’s like for coral right now. These little corals are losing the battle against rising temperatures.
Wooldridge et al. (2010) investigated the true cause of the dreaded coral bleaching. At high temperatures, zooxanthellae freak out and start hoarding carbon dioxide—kind of like us panic-buying toilet paper during the COVID-19 outbreak. But in zooxanthellae terms, that hoarding blocks their coral partners from photosynthesising properly. In desperation, the coral ejects its once-trusty partners, causing the dreaded bone-white skeletons we see during bleaching. Without photosynthesis, the coral starves to death.
Pretty terrible way to die, huh?
Well, let’s not lose hope! Big D is on the case, and his call to action highlights how oceans have the ability to regenerate at a remarkable rate.
Let’s go back to zooxanthellae flavours. Some, known as Type C, are good at forming quick relationships with coral polyps but struggle to withstand current ocean temperatures (Chakravarti et al., 2017). However, Type D zooxanthellae are the big hitters in the heat-resistance scene. Corals partnered with Type Ds were able to survive temperatures 1.5°C higher than current ocean conditions!
That might not sound like much, but it’s a huge deal—especially if we can genetically edit coral hosts too. Imagine a cute Jackapoodle. Yes, yes, so fluffy! But how did we get that fluff? From selective breeding, of course. That’s the plan with corals, according to Dr. James Guest, a coral biologist at Newcastle University. Already, we’ve seen selectively bred corals survive a week longer under extreme temperatures than their unbred counterparts. If these “superhero” corals were to form a partnership with Type D zooxanthellae, who knows what they could withstand?
Now, that doesn’t mean we can just keep heating the oceans up, Elon.
And it’s not just corals that are at war—it’s the entire freaking ocean!
We just can’t seem to help ourselves, can we? “Oh, some light trawling never messed up a fish’s day…” BAM! The 2-tonne otter boards (the weights on either side of a trawl net that keep it open) smash through the seaweed you once called home.
We’re pulling out 79.3 million tonnes of fish each year (SOFIA, 2024).
Yes, you read that right: 79.3 million tonnes.
Unfortunately for our fiendishly large stomachs, the ocean isn’t an endless cornucopia (a goat horn from ancient Greece said to contain a bottomless supply of food). This plunder has had a generational impact, with fish sizes getting smaller and smaller as larger breeding fish are selectively targeted (Oke et al., 2020).
In fact, you’re not going to believe this—but bear with me. Heavier fish don’t just produce more eggs than smaller fish… they produce way more. I know, it kind of makes sense, but still—check this out. A 2 kg female salmon produces around 2,990 eggs, while a 3.7 kg female produces 4,777 (Eyto et al., 2015). That’s almost double, from less than double the weight. Imagine what a 5 kg fish could do!
This funky weight-to-egg ratio is called hyperallometry. It basically means that bigger females supercharge population growth. So yeah—if we keep fishing out the big ones, we’re gonna end up with nothing but little tiddlers.
So what can be done?
Big D says that our oceans have remarkable healing powers, and it’s been proven time and again that if left to their own devices, the seas can return to their rightful, healthy state. Already, we’re seeing signs of recovery thanks to conservation efforts:
- The proportion of species threatened with extinction fell from 18% in 2000 to 11.4% in 2019.
- Humpback whale numbers rose from just hundreds in 1968 to over 40,000 in 2020.
- Habitat loss is slowing, with global mangrove forest decline decreasing by 0.11% per year (Dartae et al., 2020).
Slowly, like a nervous teenager inching onto the dance floor, nature is starting to find its rhythm again.
But is it enough?
Really, we need a global effort to just leave the ocean the f*** alone.
But for now, using Jackapoodle-style breeding techniques might just be enough to keep our seas’ head above water.
Joking aside, here’s my own plea to save our planet. It is dying. You can’t see all that devastation and simply turn a blind eye. Swathes of war-torn coral, barren wastelands of open water that once teemed with life, pollution so rancid it would burn all your hair off.
The sea—gentle, raging, continuously shaping our planet and the lives we live. She’s undeniably magnificent to any who dare gaze upon her. She softly whisks your breath away, slipping in between your ribs and carving her name on the walls of your heart.
What unapologetic imperfection—cliff-smashing tantrums and canvas-like calm.
When the sun flirts with the sea and shards of fire flash across her surface, you can’t help but fall in love. When she mirrors the night sky, a living tapestry of stars dancing joyfully across her waves, you feel alive beside her.
She’s burning—writhing in the grip of the destruction we have wrought.
Gutted for all to see, we turn our heads in horror and foreign ignorance, hoping the problem will float away.
But it hasn’t.
It’s now or never.
Let’s do something about it.
wildtidewords 
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