 Bleaching is real Yesterday, while reading “Vive la resilience: don’t write off our corals just yet” published by Oceanographic Magazine, I felt an unexpected mix of emotions — a sense of genuine hope, knowing that some reefs still show signs of resistance, and yet, a deep lingering doubt. Far be it from me to question scientific voices — I know the rigour, the countless hours spent observing, measuring, understanding. But this optimism, as necessary as it is, raises a fundamental question: how far can we speak of hope without lying to ourselves? When scientists say “not all reefs are lost,” is it a cry of resistance… or a sign of an institutional need to stay heard ? As I read those words, I couldn’t help thinking about what I see underwater every week: bleaching spreading like a slow tide, colonies dying quietly, and parts of the lagoon where life simply fades away. Maybe not everything is lost — but we must still have the courage to admit that some of it already is.  Hope is necessary. Scientists Live on ProjectsIn science, hope isn’t just a feeling — it’s a condition of survival. To secure funding, you must convince others that solutions exist, that research can still turn the tide. A project titled “the end of coral reefs” will never receive a grant; one that speaks of “resilience” or “regeneration” almost always will. It’s human, even understandable. But when science becomes dependent on narratives of hope, the gravity of reality gets blurred. And the risk is clear: truth — the uncomfortable kind — dissolves into the language of promises.  But then, which truth is real? Hope as an Academic Survival Strategy In a world oversaturated with bad news, hope has become a tool of communication. Institutions need it — to keep public support, to soothe fear, to maintain trust. So we speak of resilience, of rebirth, of corals adapting to change. All of that exists, of course; some reefs do resist better than others. But when we repeat too often that “nature can heal itself,” we normalize irreversible damage. If hope becomes an academic strategy, we are no longer talking about science — we are talking about narrative survival: a discourse fine-tuned to reassure funders, governments, and sometimes our own conscience.  The best way to approach truth is through investigation — not opinion. Science Under Narrative Influence Science is never completely neutral; it evolves within its era, language, and politics. When a study highlights signs of resilience rather than signs of collapse, it’s often a matter of framing, not manipulation. But the accumulation of these choices creates a trend — a form of science shaped by its narrative. Not because it lies, but because it selects what to show to avoid despair. It’s subtle, almost invisible. Yet it changes everything. It turns science into a kind of benevolent storytelling, where lucidity becomes risky, and hope an unspoken moral duty. Behind that narrative, however, lies a simple reality: without funding, research stops. Scientists must persuade their sponsors — public or private — that their work will lead to solutions, not just acknowledgements of failure. In this system, the language of hope becomes almost a currency: it unlocks grants, European programs, political endorsements. In other words, to keep working, one must keep believing.  Hope is not in the équation for wildlife The Sincere but Biased Faith Most scientists I meet are sincere. They believe in what they do — and they still hope. And thankfully so: without that flame, who would dive again on a dying reef? But sometimes that faith in coral resilience becomes so strong it blurs critical distance. We begin to confuse wanting to believe with seeing what is. And that’s where danger begins: when hope takes the place of truth, we stop measuring the true extent of loss. We talk about regeneration without admitting that it takes decades — sometimes centuries — for a reef to rebuild. Resilient corals do exist — often deeper, between 20 and 50 meters. But that resilience raises another question: at what ecological cost do they survive? A deep reef doesn’t offer the same light, the same warmth, nor the same biodiversity as a shallow one. If the future of coral shifts to those depths, the balance of tropical lagoons will change entirely: herbivorous fish disappear from the shallows, food chains reconfigure, and coastal fisheries — lifelines for thousands of families — become increasingly unstable. In other words, coral resilience does not guarantee human resilience. It merely pushes life to places where we can no longer see it.  How long to see this again ? When Everyone Speaks, Who Tells the Truth?In a world where funding, science, media, and politics constantly collide, the role of the field reporter — the one who goes, sees, and listens — has never been more essential. Because even when science remains sincere, it is rarely free from influence. Many scientists I’ve met are in the water, day after day, facing the same realities we do. Their commitment is unquestionable. But the system they work within — the race for grants, visibility, and recognition — can shape how truth is told. When your next expedition depends on a funder’s approval, when “hope” sounds better in a proposal than “collapse,” it becomes harder to speak without filters. Some projects blur the line between research and personal ambition, between fieldwork and privilege. It’s not corruption; it’s the quiet pressure of a system that rewards optimism more than honesty. When scientists publish opinion pieces or “hope essays,” they often do so with sincerity — but without contradiction, or without the space for facts and data that challenge their narrative. Few journals give room to opposing analyses on the same topic. The result is not misinformation, but imbalance. A subtle shift where communication starts to replace truth. And this is precisely where the work of independent photographers, divers, and field journalists matters. Not to oppose science, but to complete it. To bring back the tangible — what the ocean actually looks like, smells like, feels like. To show that truth doesn’t always come from a lab or a grant, but sometimes from the quiet evidence of being there, eyes open, camera in hand.  Just the fact not hope Hope is vital — it drives us to act, to protect, to educate.
But it should never become a filter that softens reality. Because behind every optimistic sentence are images I can’t forget: corals white as ash, fish circling in emptiness, once-vibrant zones now silent. They are not even “white corals” anymore — the coral is gone, replaced by bare rock. Between hope and alarmism lies another path — that of truth. To tell what we see, without exaggeration, without dilution. To remind ourselves that resilience does not erase human impact, and that survival at depth does not equal recovery at the surface. Yes, some reefs endure. But most decline. And to speak only of resilience, without showing that decline, is to risk normalizing disaster. Because in the end, doesn’t this constant optimism serve, ironically, as the victory of climate sceptics? By reassuring, we disarm. By saying “not all is lost,” we delay urgency. And by the time truth finds its voice again, the ocean will already have changed its face. 
Here affects there.
1) What happened last week
From 5–15 August 2025 in Geneva, delegates reconvened the fifth negotiating session on a UN plastics treaty. This was INC-5.2—the second half of the same session that began in Busan (25 Nov–1 Dec 2024, INC-5.1). Same meeting, resumed from the existing working text. Once again, talks ended without consensus or a final text. The fault line.
By the numbers (per day, order-of-magnitude)
Plastic residues in a turtle – Kelonia
2) What the agreement aimed for—and why
The UN mandate is for a legally binding treaty that covers the entire life cycle of plastics: design (re-use, repairability, recycled content), production (limits on virgin volumes; control of problematic polymers/additives), consumption(phasing out the most harmful items), end-of-life (collection, recycling, EPR, trade in waste), and microplastics. The ambition is simple: without new policies, production and waste climb steeply toward 2060, and leakage to nature rises with them. Caps and chemical controls are the upstream levers many countries want on the table. 
Choose a mug over plastic cups
3) In practice, at sea: risks & consequences
Lagoon fish in Mayotte feeding on a plastic bag
FAQ — Plastics & the OceanDo plastics dissolve in the ocean? How long does a plastic bottle take to break down?Plastics don’t “dissolve.” Most (like PET bottles) fragment under UV and abrasion into micro- and nanoplastics. Estimates for a plastic bottle at sea range from ~100 to 500+ years, highly dependent on sun, heat, waves, and biofouling. The fragments persist and can circulate indefinitely. What are the main harms of ocean plastics to wildlife?
What are microplastics and nanoplastics?Microplastics are plastic particles <5 mm; nanoplastics are typically <1 µm. They come from fragmentation of larger items, synthetic fibers, tire wear, microbeads, and industrial pellets. They enter marine food webs from plankton upward. What do we know about health impacts on humans?Micro- and nanoplastics have been detected in some human tissues and fluids. Lab and animal studies suggest possible inflammation, oxidative stress, and exposure to additives (e.g., phthalates, BPA) with endocrine activity. Real-world dose–response and long-term effects remain under study; a precautionary approach is warranted. Are biodegradable or compostable plastics a solution at sea?Not reliably. Most “compostable” plastics need industrial conditions (heat, humidity, microbes) that the ocean lacks. “Oxo-degradable” plastics fragment but don’t truly biodegrade in marine settings. At sea, these materials can persist and behave much like conventional plastics. What is ghost gear?Lost, abandoned or discarded fishing gear (nets, lines, traps). Made from durable synthetics, it can continue catching and killing wildlife for years, while shedding microplastics. Which products drive most ocean leakage?Globally, the heaviest contributors include single-use packaging (bottles, caps, wrappers, sachets, polystyrene foodware), cigarette filters, and lost fishing gear. Leakage hotspots are typically near rivers, dense coasts, and regions with limited waste services. What actions reduce ocean plastic now?
4) What next? Diplomats and observers see a few paths:
Hot wave of Climate chance
How Heatwaves Will Reshape Our Lives – And Why We Need to Talk About It Now
In a previous article, I questioned how our brain perceives—or ignores—climate change. Why so much inaction despite clear warning signs?
As a photographer committed to conservation, this question haunts me: do my images still have an impact? And if so, should they showcase beauty… or danger? Neuroscientist Albert Moukheiber reminds us: to raise awareness, we need to talk about tangible, close, and concrete events. And what’s more tangible than a heatwave? I’m also an economics teacher. And when I hear business leaders on the radio expressing concern about declining profits during heatwaves, I realize something: to talk about ecology to some people, we first need to talk about money. Maybe if we took the time to observe the real cost of heatwaves, we’d understand that climate change isn’t a distant abstraction… but a present economic, social, and human variable. And a global issue, not just a national one. 
Climate change : Where is the Nature ?
WHY IS IT GETTING HOTTER? WHERE DO MODERN HEATWAVES COME FROM ?
Since 1970, the frequency of heatwaves has increased 5 to 10 times depending on the region. 
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Choose your future
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Choose your future
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WELLBEING, MOBILITY & AN INVISIBLE LEVER
In France, the average home-work distance is 15.7 km.
That’s 31.4 km round trip, often by car. Over a year (220 working days), that's nearly 7,000 km driven per person, mainly in cities.
Let’s imagine two people doing the same job at the same salary—but living on opposite ends. They cross paths every morning in traffic. What if we hired more locally?
The French Environment Agency estimates that reducing just 10% of these daily trips would save the equivalent of 66 roundtrip flights Paris–New York in CO₂ per year, in just one urban area.
It’s not just ecological. It’s also a question of wellbeing. Shorter commutes reduce stress, absenteeism, and improve quality of life. A lever too often overlooked.
In France, the average home-work distance is 15.7 km.
That’s 31.4 km round trip, often by car. Over a year (220 working days), that's nearly 7,000 km driven per person, mainly in cities.
Let’s imagine two people doing the same job at the same salary—but living on opposite ends. They cross paths every morning in traffic. What if we hired more locally?
The French Environment Agency estimates that reducing just 10% of these daily trips would save the equivalent of 66 roundtrip flights Paris–New York in CO₂ per year, in just one urban area.
It’s not just ecological. It’s also a question of wellbeing. Shorter commutes reduce stress, absenteeism, and improve quality of life. A lever too often overlooked.
Collective transport ?
Heatwaves, Climate & Hidden Costs: The Economic Price of Global Warming :
Behind the official rhetoric, climate change often hides deep hypocrisies.
The first plays out on our roads: in the name of a cleaner planet, the most polluting vehicles are banned from major European cities like Paris through Low Emission Zones (LEZ). Yet those very same vehicles — 2CVs, Renault 4Ls, old diesel 4x4s and buses — are exported to developing countries, where they run daily. In Antananarivo, Madagascar, traffic jams are accompanied by a constant stream of black exhaust, proof that the pollution hasn’t disappeared… it has simply changed latitude.
The second hypocrisy takes to the skies. Certain regional flight routes deemed “unprofitable” are cut, forcing passengers to take far longer itineraries. A direct flight from Mayotte to Madagascar (about 724 km) has been replaced by a connection via Réunion (Mayotte–Réunion: 1,414 km, then Réunion–Madagascar: 857 km). The result: more than double the distance flown, producing roughly 2.4 times more CO₂ per passenger, solely because the direct link was removed.
Instead of undermining these “short-haul” regional routes, governments could introduce a decarbonisation incentive: subsidising airlines that commit to cutting emissions through sustainable fuels, more efficient aircraft, or carbon quotas. Conversely, penalties should apply to carriers that eliminate these links in favour of more polluting itineraries.
These contradictions show that the ecological transition cannot simply shift pollution elsewhere or hide its real cost. It demands coherent, measurable policies that deliver a genuine climate benefit.
Behind the official rhetoric, climate change often hides deep hypocrisies.
The first plays out on our roads: in the name of a cleaner planet, the most polluting vehicles are banned from major European cities like Paris through Low Emission Zones (LEZ). Yet those very same vehicles — 2CVs, Renault 4Ls, old diesel 4x4s and buses — are exported to developing countries, where they run daily. In Antananarivo, Madagascar, traffic jams are accompanied by a constant stream of black exhaust, proof that the pollution hasn’t disappeared… it has simply changed latitude.
The second hypocrisy takes to the skies. Certain regional flight routes deemed “unprofitable” are cut, forcing passengers to take far longer itineraries. A direct flight from Mayotte to Madagascar (about 724 km) has been replaced by a connection via Réunion (Mayotte–Réunion: 1,414 km, then Réunion–Madagascar: 857 km). The result: more than double the distance flown, producing roughly 2.4 times more CO₂ per passenger, solely because the direct link was removed.
Instead of undermining these “short-haul” regional routes, governments could introduce a decarbonisation incentive: subsidising airlines that commit to cutting emissions through sustainable fuels, more efficient aircraft, or carbon quotas. Conversely, penalties should apply to carriers that eliminate these links in favour of more polluting itineraries.
These contradictions show that the ecological transition cannot simply shift pollution elsewhere or hide its real cost. It demands coherent, measurable policies that deliver a genuine climate benefit.
Old car, second market...
TAXES, INFRASTRUCTURE, WHO WILL PAY ?
More frequent heatwaves mean:
So yes, climate has a financial cost. And pretending otherwise is just deferring the bill.
More frequent heatwaves mean:
- Reinforced health services
- Renovated schools and public buildings
- Urban redesign for climate resilience
So yes, climate has a financial cost. And pretending otherwise is just deferring the bill.
Happiness and consomption
WHAT CAN WE DO ?
Change our habits. Our relationship with nature. Our consumption.
Take the Vanuatu, a country among the most vulnerable to climate change (cyclones, volcanoes, rising seas) and one of the poorest economically. Yet it consistently ranks among the happiest countries on Earth, according to the Happy Planet Index.
Why? Because happiness there is decoupled from consumption. Rooted in social ties, nature, and simplicity.
Maybe our resilience also lies there: in reconnecting with what matters. In forging deeper, more joyful bonds with the living world—and with one another.
Change our habits. Our relationship with nature. Our consumption.
Take the Vanuatu, a country among the most vulnerable to climate change (cyclones, volcanoes, rising seas) and one of the poorest economically. Yet it consistently ranks among the happiest countries on Earth, according to the Happy Planet Index.
Why? Because happiness there is decoupled from consumption. Rooted in social ties, nature, and simplicity.
Maybe our resilience also lies there: in reconnecting with what matters. In forging deeper, more joyful bonds with the living world—and with one another.
What we need is Green
A PLANETARY SPIRAL
What happens here affects what happens elsewhere—and vice versa.
Bleached coral reefs in Australia or Mayotte reflect rising ocean temperatures. Urban CO₂ emissions drive acidification and disrupt marine ecosystems. Butterfly effect.
If we don't adapt our urban lifestyles, the spiral will continue. And the reminders from nature will only grow louder.
What happens here affects what happens elsewhere—and vice versa.
Bleached coral reefs in Australia or Mayotte reflect rising ocean temperatures. Urban CO₂ emissions drive acidification and disrupt marine ecosystems. Butterfly effect.
If we don't adapt our urban lifestyles, the spiral will continue. And the reminders from nature will only grow louder.
Invisible effect of our actions on nature
But another silent threat looms above us: the water crisis.
Less rainfall, strained aquifers, dried-up rivers. Extreme heat also means less water—for drinking, farming, healing. Mayotte, Spain, India, the southern US are already facing rationing. The real tipping point for humanity might not be temperature... but thirst. If we don’t anticipate this, it won’t just be our comfort at risk—it’s our stability. Our peace. Our humanity.
Should we continue supporting a system that encourages more births to fund pensions or feed consumer markets—when the planet itself is not growing? Or should we rethink the model, decouple well-being from demographics, and build a society whose wealth lies elsewhere?
Demography is a global issue, but that doesn’t prevent nations from leading by example. Some countries—through innovation, culture, or values—can act as moral compasses. We don’t have to wait. We can show that less can mean more—that happiness can thrive in simplicity.
Because the coral bleaching in Australia, Mayotte, or elsewhere is directly connected to what happens in the world’s major cities. Butterfly effect. And our responses—urban lifestyles, carbon emissions—are in turn accelerating ocean acidification, weakening marine ecosystems, triggering a downward spiral.
What we do here determines what survives there—and vice versa. Nature will remind us. Louder and louder.
We can tell ourselves that changing alone won’t matter. Or we can believe that each personal shift is the spark of a greater collective motion.
And let’s remember: ecology is neither left nor right. It shouldn’t be a political stance. It is our shared foundation. A vital, common ground that concerns us all.
Whatever your job, beliefs, or identity—we all have something to gain.
Let’s choose change. While we still can.
Less rainfall, strained aquifers, dried-up rivers. Extreme heat also means less water—for drinking, farming, healing. Mayotte, Spain, India, the southern US are already facing rationing. The real tipping point for humanity might not be temperature... but thirst. If we don’t anticipate this, it won’t just be our comfort at risk—it’s our stability. Our peace. Our humanity.
Should we continue supporting a system that encourages more births to fund pensions or feed consumer markets—when the planet itself is not growing? Or should we rethink the model, decouple well-being from demographics, and build a society whose wealth lies elsewhere?
Demography is a global issue, but that doesn’t prevent nations from leading by example. Some countries—through innovation, culture, or values—can act as moral compasses. We don’t have to wait. We can show that less can mean more—that happiness can thrive in simplicity.
Because the coral bleaching in Australia, Mayotte, or elsewhere is directly connected to what happens in the world’s major cities. Butterfly effect. And our responses—urban lifestyles, carbon emissions—are in turn accelerating ocean acidification, weakening marine ecosystems, triggering a downward spiral.
What we do here determines what survives there—and vice versa. Nature will remind us. Louder and louder.
We can tell ourselves that changing alone won’t matter. Or we can believe that each personal shift is the spark of a greater collective motion.
And let’s remember: ecology is neither left nor right. It shouldn’t be a political stance. It is our shared foundation. A vital, common ground that concerns us all.
Whatever your job, beliefs, or identity—we all have something to gain.
Let’s choose change. While we still can.
FAQ — Heatwaves & Hidden Costs
What is an urban heat island?
A city microclimate where built surfaces trap heat, raising temperatures versus rural areas. It increases cooling demand, health risks and infrastructure stress.
How do heatwaves impact the economy?
Reduced labor productivity, health costs, grid stress and damage to transport networks raise public and private expenses, with cascading effects on prices and taxes.
What helps cities adapt?
Trees and shade, cool roofs, permeable surfaces, early-warning systems, heat action plans, water access and design that prioritizes the most exposed people.
I sent a portfolio to a magazine Plongez and received the response: "You have beautiful photos, but a portfolio should have been taken at several different locations." Meaning: you need to travel.
The same magazine, through its editorial, praises our beautiful planet that must be preserved, but in reality, participates in mass tourism by selling advertising space to travel agencies specializing in trips to the other side of the world...
This leads me to a broader reflection. I see some photographers traveling across the globe in search of the "unique" shot, exploring Antarctica, the whales of Tonga, or the manta rays of Roca Partida. Ultimately, an "easy" photo, given how daily these places are touched by humans. But is this still true wildlife photography? These places are so crowded that nature has lost its raw character. By being immortalized so often, these locations have almost become movie sets, stages where wildlife has become accustomed to posing for humans.
The same magazine, through its editorial, praises our beautiful planet that must be preserved, but in reality, participates in mass tourism by selling advertising space to travel agencies specializing in trips to the other side of the world...
This leads me to a broader reflection. I see some photographers traveling across the globe in search of the "unique" shot, exploring Antarctica, the whales of Tonga, or the manta rays of Roca Partida. Ultimately, an "easy" photo, given how daily these places are touched by humans. But is this still true wildlife photography? These places are so crowded that nature has lost its raw character. By being immortalized so often, these locations have almost become movie sets, stages where wildlife has become accustomed to posing for humans.
And photography contests only fuel this mindset: winning awards in Raja Ampat, the Philippines, etc., to validate a portfolio that must absolutely be exotic... I admit, I’ve played that game myself. But in the end, I made a different choice: to stay on an island, limit my travels, and fully appreciate the lagoon, its dolphins, turtles, and corals… rather than chasing miles.
What’s the point of being offered a three-day trip to Raja Ampat when I can swim with dolphins, turtles, whales, and mantas right where I live? Why do these photographers, instead of valuing or denouncing the state of nature near them, end up playing along with this strange game orchestrated by a few magazines that need to sell advertising space?
What’s the point of being offered a three-day trip to Raja Ampat when I can swim with dolphins, turtles, whales, and mantas right where I live? Why do these photographers, instead of valuing or denouncing the state of nature near them, end up playing along with this strange game orchestrated by a few magazines that need to sell advertising space?
Is our role as photographers to showcase the beauty of the world, or to sell travel to distant lands that, in the end, would do without this mass tourism?
Well, I wanted to voice this complaint. Too bad for the magazine that rejected my photos because they come from the same location. And good for me, I can now save money on a magazine that’s gone from 4 to 12 euros in ten years... and stay true to my values.
Well, I wanted to voice this complaint. Too bad for the magazine that rejected my photos because they come from the same location. And good for me, I can now save money on a magazine that’s gone from 4 to 12 euros in ten years... and stay true to my values.
Coral Bleaching — Causes, Effects & How to Protect Reefs
Coral bleaching happens when corals lose their symbiotic algae under heat stress. This weakens reefs, threatens marine life, and harms coastal communities. Learn the main causes (including El Niño), the impacts, and what works to protect reefs.
Coral reefs, often referred to as the "rainforests of the sea," are among the most diverse and vital ecosystems on the planet. These living structures, formed by colonies of corals secreting calcium carbonate, host an incredible variety of marine life. More than just underwater decorations, corals play a crucial role in the health of the oceans by providing habitat for thousands of marine species, protecting coastlines from erosion, and supporting fishing and tourism, which are vital sources of income for many coastal communities.
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What are Corals and Their Role in the Marine Ecosystem?
Corals are marine animals belonging to the class Cnidaria, closely related to jellyfish and sea anemones. They live primarily in warm, clear waters of the tropics, forming reefs that can stretch for hundreds of kilometers. Their role in the marine ecosystem is multifaceted. They serve as a refuge and breeding ground for a wide range of marine creatures, including fish, crustaceans, and mollusks. Coral reefs also act as natural barriers, reducing the strength of waves and protecting shorelines from storms and erosion.
Beyond their ecological role, corals contribute to marine biodiversity. Their ability to recycle nutrients and maintain ecological balance in marine environments is essential for the survival of many marine organisms. Coral reefs are, therefore, both centers of biodiversity and crucial environmental regulators for the stability of ocean ecosystems.
Corals are marine animals belonging to the class Cnidaria, closely related to jellyfish and sea anemones. They live primarily in warm, clear waters of the tropics, forming reefs that can stretch for hundreds of kilometers. Their role in the marine ecosystem is multifaceted. They serve as a refuge and breeding ground for a wide range of marine creatures, including fish, crustaceans, and mollusks. Coral reefs also act as natural barriers, reducing the strength of waves and protecting shorelines from storms and erosion.
Beyond their ecological role, corals contribute to marine biodiversity. Their ability to recycle nutrients and maintain ecological balance in marine environments is essential for the survival of many marine organisms. Coral reefs are, therefore, both centers of biodiversity and crucial environmental regulators for the stability of ocean ecosystems.
El Niño, Coral Bleaching, and the Climate Crisis
However, these fragile structures are now threatened by both natural and human-induced factors, with the most alarming being the impact of ocean warming. One of the most devastating effects of warming is coral bleaching, a phenomenon where corals expel the symbiotic algae (zooxanthellae) that live inside their tissues. These algae provide the majority of the coral's energy through photosynthesis. Without them, corals turn white, become weakened, and struggle to survive without external intervention.
The El Niño phenomenon, which causes temporary ocean warming, exacerbates this issue. During these climatic events, water temperatures can rise significantly, causing intense thermal stress for corals. As a result, coral reefs can suffer severe damage, losing much of their biodiversity and impacting local populations that rely on the health of these ecosystems.
However, these fragile structures are now threatened by both natural and human-induced factors, with the most alarming being the impact of ocean warming. One of the most devastating effects of warming is coral bleaching, a phenomenon where corals expel the symbiotic algae (zooxanthellae) that live inside their tissues. These algae provide the majority of the coral's energy through photosynthesis. Without them, corals turn white, become weakened, and struggle to survive without external intervention.
The El Niño phenomenon, which causes temporary ocean warming, exacerbates this issue. During these climatic events, water temperatures can rise significantly, causing intense thermal stress for corals. As a result, coral reefs can suffer severe damage, losing much of their biodiversity and impacting local populations that rely on the health of these ecosystems.
Key facts — Coral bleaching
- Trigger: sustained heat stress → loss of symbiotic algae (bleaching).
- Drivers: marine heatwaves, El Niño, poor water quality, extreme light.
- Effects: reduced growth, disease, mortality, lost habitat for reef fish.
- Recovery: cooler temps, clean water, and time between heat events.
- What helps: cut emissions, improve water quality, reef-safe tourism.
What Are Scientists Doing to Combat Coral Bleaching?
In the face of this crisis, scientists worldwide are working tirelessly to save coral reefs. Their approach combines laboratory research, field monitoring, and innovative strategies for reef restoration.
One promising solution is coral breeding in laboratories. Researchers have developed methods to cultivate heat-resistant corals. By crossbreeding different coral species or exposing larvae to higher temperatures, they hope to create corals that are more resilient and capable of surviving in warmer waters. These corals can then be transplanted into declining reefs as part of restoration programs.
Scientists also monitor reef conditions in real-time, using underwater sensors to measure water temperature and coral health. This data allows for rapid alerts to authorities and local communities, enabling protective measures, such as marine protected areas or activity restrictions, to be implemented.
On a global scale, coral protection and restoration initiatives are also supported by international organizations and governments, working to reduce greenhouse gas emissions, plastic pollution, and overfishing—three major factors contributing to coral decline.
While these efforts provide hope for restoration, the situation remains urgent. Coral reefs, these biodiversity treasures, continue to suffer under the combined effects of climate change and pollution. Scientific solutions, though promising, can only succeed if accompanied by collective action to combat climate change. Protecting corals has become a global challenge, a test for humanity's ability to safeguard the natural wonders that connect us to our planet.
In the face of this crisis, scientists worldwide are working tirelessly to save coral reefs. Their approach combines laboratory research, field monitoring, and innovative strategies for reef restoration.
One promising solution is coral breeding in laboratories. Researchers have developed methods to cultivate heat-resistant corals. By crossbreeding different coral species or exposing larvae to higher temperatures, they hope to create corals that are more resilient and capable of surviving in warmer waters. These corals can then be transplanted into declining reefs as part of restoration programs.
Scientists also monitor reef conditions in real-time, using underwater sensors to measure water temperature and coral health. This data allows for rapid alerts to authorities and local communities, enabling protective measures, such as marine protected areas or activity restrictions, to be implemented.
On a global scale, coral protection and restoration initiatives are also supported by international organizations and governments, working to reduce greenhouse gas emissions, plastic pollution, and overfishing—three major factors contributing to coral decline.
While these efforts provide hope for restoration, the situation remains urgent. Coral reefs, these biodiversity treasures, continue to suffer under the combined effects of climate change and pollution. Scientific solutions, though promising, can only succeed if accompanied by collective action to combat climate change. Protecting corals has become a global challenge, a test for humanity's ability to safeguard the natural wonders that connect us to our planet.
FAQ — Coral Bleaching
What is coral bleaching?
It’s the loss of symbiotic algae (Symbiodiniaceae) from coral tissue under stress, making corals turn white and become vulnerable.
What causes bleaching?
Marine heatwaves, El Niño events, poor water quality, and extreme light. Prolonged stress can lead to coral death.
How can we protect reefs?
Cut local pollution, manage fisheries, reduce physical damage, support restoration, and reduce emissions driving ocean warming.
Photography is not just about sharpness or specs — it’s about emotion, vision, and the way a camera interprets the world.
Every brand has its own color signature. While Nikon sometimes feels too clinical and Canon a bit oversaturated to my eye, Lumix strikes a rare balance: natural tones, honest contrast, and a cinematic depth that feels true — especially underwater.
That’s why I chose Lumix — and why I trust it when telling stories beneath the surface.
Every brand has its own color signature. While Nikon sometimes feels too clinical and Canon a bit oversaturated to my eye, Lumix strikes a rare balance: natural tones, honest contrast, and a cinematic depth that feels true — especially underwater.
That’s why I chose Lumix — and why I trust it when telling stories beneath the surface.
One of my first use of Lumix G7 in New Zealand
My First Encounter with Lumix: A Love Story in New Zealand
It all started during a trip to New Zealand, a breathtakingly beautiful country where every landscape is a masterpiece. There was no way I was leaving without capturing real photos—not the kind taken on a smartphone, but true, high-quality images. That’s when I bought my first Lumix G7.
I expected a steep learning curve, but to my surprise, the menus were incredibly intuitive, making it easy to get started. And just like that, my journey with Lumix photography began.
Very quickly, I realized the color rendering and image definition were on another level compared to my iPhone at the time. From that moment on, I stuck with Lumix.
It all started during a trip to New Zealand, a breathtakingly beautiful country where every landscape is a masterpiece. There was no way I was leaving without capturing real photos—not the kind taken on a smartphone, but true, high-quality images. That’s when I bought my first Lumix G7.
I expected a steep learning curve, but to my surprise, the menus were incredibly intuitive, making it easy to get started. And just like that, my journey with Lumix photography began.
Very quickly, I realized the color rendering and image definition were on another level compared to my iPhone at the time. From that moment on, I stuck with Lumix.
Why I Choose Lumix for My Underwater Photography
As an award-winning underwater photographer, my choice of gear is driven by both performance and personal style. I chose Lumix for several key reasons that set my work apart from the mainstream underwater photography scene:
- Simplicity of use — intuitive menus and controls that let me focus on the shot, not the settings.
- Better price point (at the time) — professional quality without the excessive cost.
- Lighter weight — essential when traveling to remote diving locations.
- Unique color science — delivering a different rendering from over-saturated Canon or ultra-bright Nikon images.
- Standing out from the crowd — I prefer to create my own visual signature rather than follow trends.
This combination of factors allows me to produce distinctive underwater images that capture the ocean’s true colors and mood, while reflecting my personal artistic vision.
From Diving to Fine Art: My Evolution as a Photographer
When my GoPro failed me, I started looking for a serious underwater camera. Naturally, I turned to the GH5. This camera followed me everywhere, from tropical waters to extreme conditions, for almost seven years before I (stupidly) flooded it.
Then came the Lumix S1. I wanted to see what high-end photography could bring to my work. And once again, I was blown away. The autofocus was lightning-fast, making me feel like my own eye was doing the focusing. It delivered top-tier performance while maintaining the signature usability and simplicity of the Lumix range.
Thanks to this camera, I’ve had multiple finalist photos in the Siena Awards, National Geographic Traveller, Wildlife Photographer of the Year… Proof that while the gear doesn’t make the photographer, it’s an essential partner in bringing artistic vision to life.
When my GoPro failed me, I started looking for a serious underwater camera. Naturally, I turned to the GH5. This camera followed me everywhere, from tropical waters to extreme conditions, for almost seven years before I (stupidly) flooded it.
Then came the Lumix S1. I wanted to see what high-end photography could bring to my work. And once again, I was blown away. The autofocus was lightning-fast, making me feel like my own eye was doing the focusing. It delivered top-tier performance while maintaining the signature usability and simplicity of the Lumix range.
Thanks to this camera, I’ve had multiple finalist photos in the Siena Awards, National Geographic Traveller, Wildlife Photographer of the Year… Proof that while the gear doesn’t make the photographer, it’s an essential partner in bringing artistic vision to life.
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When emotion meets purpose
Photography is more than an image — it’s a way to slow down, to connect, and to protect what still can be saved. Discover a selection of fine art prints that carry this intention.
See the Fine Art Collection →
And Now, My Rant…
As much as I respect Lumix for the quality of its cameras, I am baffled by Panasonic’s current marketing strategy.
Instead of highlighting the creators who use their gear daily in real-world conditions, they prefer to pay influencers to travel to Norway and talk about 4:2:2, Open something-or-other, and other specs that, while useful, fail to connect the creator to the camera.
When I see how Sony collaborates with photographers like Paul Nicklen, showcasing the true power of their cameras in the field, I can’t help but wonder: why is Lumix not doing the same?
Why not put the spotlight on the photographers and filmmakers who actually use Lumix cameras to capture breathtaking moments?
Influencers have their place, but they will never replace those who live and breathe photography.
As much as I respect Lumix for the quality of its cameras, I am baffled by Panasonic’s current marketing strategy.
Instead of highlighting the creators who use their gear daily in real-world conditions, they prefer to pay influencers to travel to Norway and talk about 4:2:2, Open something-or-other, and other specs that, while useful, fail to connect the creator to the camera.
When I see how Sony collaborates with photographers like Paul Nicklen, showcasing the true power of their cameras in the field, I can’t help but wonder: why is Lumix not doing the same?
Why not put the spotlight on the photographers and filmmakers who actually use Lumix cameras to capture breathtaking moments?
Influencers have their place, but they will never replace those who live and breathe photography.
Lumix, It’s Time to Call on Your Real Creators
I love Lumix. These cameras have been my trusted companions in my adventures. But I would love to see Panasonic give a voice to those who truly bring their cameras to life, rather than those who simply test them between brand deals.
Because a camera is not just a spec sheet. It’s a tool for creation, a means of storytelling.
And my story is told with Lumix.
I love Lumix. These cameras have been my trusted companions in my adventures. But I would love to see Panasonic give a voice to those who truly bring their cameras to life, rather than those who simply test them between brand deals.
Because a camera is not just a spec sheet. It’s a tool for creation, a means of storytelling.
And my story is told with Lumix.
Serge Melesan
Underwater & Fine Art Ocean Photographer
Underwater & Fine Art Ocean Photographer
Specialist in Fine Art Ocean Photography. Published in Oceanographic Magazine & Earth.org. National Geographic Traveller – Portfolio Winner (2023).
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