A love story for the coral reef crisis Ayana Elizabeth Johnson
I want to tell you a love story.
But it doesn’t have a happy ending.
Once upon a time,
I was a stubborn five-year-old
who decided to become a marine biologist.
Thirty-four years, 400 scuba dives
and one PhD later,
I’m still completely
enamored with the ocean.
I spent a decade working
with fishing communities
in the Caribbean,
counting fish, interviewing fishermen,
redesigning fishing gear
and developing policy.
I’ve been helping to figure out
what sustainable management can look like
for places where food security,
jobs and cultures
all depend on the sea.
In the midst of all this, I fell in love.
With a fish.
There are over 500 fish species
that live on Caribbean reefs,
but the ones I just
can’t get out of my head
are parrotfish.
Parrotfish live on coral reefs
all over the world,
there are 100 species,
they can grow well over a meter long
and weigh over 20 kilograms,
but that’s the boring stuff.
I want to tell you five
incredible things about these fish.
First, they have a mouth
like a parrot’s beak,
which is strong enough to bite coral,
although mostly they’re after algae.
They are the lawn mowers of the reef.
This is key, because many reefs
are overgrown with algae
due to nutrient pollution
from sewage and fertilizer
that runs off of land.
And there just aren’t enough
herbivores like parrotfish
left out on the reefs
to mow it all down.
OK, second amazing thing.
After all that eating,
they poop fine white sand.
A single parrotfish can produce
over 380 kilograms
of this pulverized coral each year.
Sometimes, when scuba diving,
I would look up from my clipboard
and just see contrails
of parrotfish poop raining down.
So next time you’re lounging
on a tropical white-sand beach,
maybe thank of parrotfish.
(Laughter)
Third, they have so much style.
Mottled and striped,
teal, magenta,
yellow, orange, polka-dotted,
parrotfish are a big part
of what makes coral reefs so colorful.
Plus, in true diva style,
they have multiple wardrobe changes
throughout their life.
A juvenile outfit,
an intermediate getup,
and a terminal look.
Fourth, with this last wardrobe change
comes a sex change from female to male,
termed sequential hermaphroditism.
These large males then gather
harems of females to spawn.
Heterosexual monogamy
is certainly not nature’s status quo.
And parrotfish exemplify
some of the beauty
of diverse reproductive strategies.
Fifth, and the most incredible,
sometimes when parrotfish
cozy up into a nook in the reef at night,
they secrete a mucus bubble
from a gland in their head
that envelops their entire body.
This masks their scent from predators
and protects them from parasites,
so they can sleep soundly.
I mean, how cool is this?
(Laughter)
So this is a confession
of my love for parrotfish
in all their flamboyant,
algae-eating, sand-pooping,
sex-changing glory.
(Laughter)
But with this love comes heartache.
Now that groupers and snappers
are woefully overfished,
fishermen are targeting parrotfish.
Spearfishing took out the large species,
midnight blue and rainbow parrotfish
are now exceedingly rare,
and nets and traps are scooping up
the smaller species.
As both a marine biologist
and a single person,
I can tell you,
there aren’t that many fish in the sea.
(Laughter)
And then, there’s my love for their home,
the coral reef,
which was once as vibrant
as Caribbean cultures,
as colorful as the architecture,
and as bustling as carnival.
Because of climate change,
on top of overfishing and pollution,
coral reefs may be gone within 30 years.
An entire ecosystem erased.
This is devastating,
because hundreds of millions
of people around the world
depend on reefs
for their nutrition and income.
Let that sink in.
A little bit of good news
is that places like Belize, Barbuda
and Bonaire are protecting these VIPs –
Very Important Parrotfish.
Also, more and more places
are establishing protected areas
that protect the entire ecosystem.
These are critical efforts,
but it’s not enough.
As I stand here today,
only 2.2 percent
of the ocean is protected.
Meanwhile, 90 percent of the large fish,
and 80 percent
of the coral on Caribbean reefs,
is already gone.
We’re in the midst
of the sixth mass extinction.
And we, humans, are causing it.
We also have the solutions.
Reverse climate change and overfishing,
protect half the ocean
and stop pollution running from land.
But these are massive undertakings
requiring systemic changes,
and we’re really taking our sweet time
getting around to it.
Each of us can contribute, though.
With our votes, our voices,
our food choices,
our skills and our dollars.
We must overhaul both corporate practices
and government policies.
We must transform culture.
Building community around solutions
is the most important thing.
I am never going to give up
working to protect and restore
this magnificent planet.
Every bit of habitat we preserve,
every tenth of a degree
of warming we prevent,
really does matter.
Thankfully, I’m not motivated by hope,
but rather a desire to be useful.
Because I don’t know
how to give an honest talk
about my beloved parrotfish
and coral reefs
that has a happy ending.
Thank you.
(Applause)