Science
Humans Are Altering the Seas. Here’s What the Future Ocean Might Look Like.
Working from a dock on St. Helena Island, S.C., on a sweltering day this summer, Ed Atkins pulled in a five-foot cast net from the water and dumped out a few glossy white shrimp from the salt marsh.
Mr. Atkins, a Gullah Geechee fisherman, sells live bait to anglers in a shop his parents opened in 1957. “When they passed, they made sure I tapped into it and keep it going,” he said. “I’ve been doing it myself now for 40 years.”
These marshes, which underpin Mr. Atkins’s way of life, are where the line between land and sea blurs. They provide a crucial nursery habitat for many marine species, including commercial and recreational fisheries.
But these vast, seemingly timeless seascapes have become some of the world’s most vulnerable marine habitats, according to a new study published on Thursday in the journal Science that adds up and maps the ways human activity is profoundly reshaping oceans and coastlines around the world.
Soon, many of Earth’s marine ecosystems could be fundamentally and forever altered if pressures like climate change, overfishing, ocean acidification and coastal development continue unabated, according to the authors.
It’s “death by a thousand cuts,” said Ben Halpern, a marine biologist and ecologist at the University of California, Santa Barbara, and one of the authors of the new study. “It’s going to be a less rich community of species. And it may not be something we recognize.”
Among the other ecosystems at high risk are sea grass meadows, rocky intertidal zones and mangrove forests. These parts of the ocean, near shore, are the ones people most depend on. They provide natural defenses against storm damage. And the vast majority of commercial and recreational fishing, which together support more than two million jobs in the United States alone, takes place in shallower coastal waters.
There’s also an intangible cultural richness at stake. The culture of Gullah Geechee people like Mr. Atkins, a community descended from enslaved West Africans forced to work the rice and cotton plantations of the Southeastern coast, for example, is inextricably linked to fishing and the seashore.
“We have our own language, we have our own food ways, we have our own ecological system here,” said Marquetta Goodwine, the elected head of the Gullah Geechee people and a leader in efforts to protect and restore the coastline. That distinctive culture, she said, depends on things like the oyster beds, the native grasses and the maritime forests that characterize the seashore and the scores of tidal and barrier islands here, collectively known as the Sea Islands.
“You don’t have that, you don’t have a Sea Island,” said Ms. Goodwine, who also goes by Queen Quet. “You don’t have a Sea Island, you don’t have Gullah Geechee culture.”
A Poorer Ocean
The new study tries to measure just how much various human-caused pressures are squeezing, shifting and transforming coastal and marine habitats.
The research began in the early 2000s, when widespread coral bleaching was raising alarm among marine scientists. In response, Dr. Halpern and his colleagues set out to map the parts of the ocean that were healthiest and least affected by humans and, conversely, which parts were the most affected.
The inherent challenge was comparing marine habitats, from coral reefs to the deep ocean floor, and their responses to different human activities and pressures, like fishing and rising temperatures, all on a common scale. They came up with what researchers call an impact score that’s based on a formula incorporating the location of each habitat, the intensities of the various pressures on that habitat, and the vulnerabilities of each habitat to each form of pressure.
Under the world’s current trajectory, the study found, by the middle of the century about 3 percent of the total global ocean is at risk of changing beyond recognition. In the nearshore ocean, which most people are more familiar with, the number rises to more than 12 percent.
That future will look different in different regions. Tropical and polar seas are expected to face more pronounced effects than temperate, mid-latitude ones. Human pressures are expected to increase faster in offshore zones, but coastal waters will continue to experience the most serious effects, the researchers forecast.
There are also countries that are considered more vulnerable because they depend more heavily on resources from the ocean: Togo, Ghana and Sri Lanka top the list in the study.
Across the whole ocean, scientists generally agree that many places will look ecologically poorer, with less biodiversity, Dr. Halpern said. That’s mainly because the number of species that are resilient against climate change and other human pressures is simply far fewer than the number of more vulnerable species.
The study found that the biggest pressures, both now and in the future, are ocean warming and overfishing. But the researchers most likely underestimated the effects of fishing, they wrote, because their model assumes that fishing activity will hold steady rather than increase. They also focused only on the species actually targeted by fishing fleets and did not include by-catch, the unwanted species swept up in gear like gill nets and discarded, or habitat destruction from bottom trawling.
The effects of some other human activities aren’t well represented either, including seabed drilling and mining, which are expanding quickly offshore.
Another limitation of the Science study is the fact that the researchers simply added together the pressures from human activities in a linear way to arrive at their estimate of cumulative effects. In reality, those effects might add up to more than the sum of their parts.
Even low-ranking global stressors can cause enormous damage to local ecosystems
How individual stressors contribute to cumulative impacts
“Some of these activities, they might be synergistic, they might be doubling,” said Mike Elliott, a marine biologist and emeritus professor at the University of Hull in England who was not involved in the study. “And some might be antagonistic, might be canceling.”
Even so, Dr. Elliott said he agreed with the broad conclusions of the new study. Scientists could argue about whether the cumulative effects of human activities will double or triple, he said, “but it will be more, because we’re doing more in the sea.”
“If we wait until we’ve got perfect data,” he added, “we’ll never do anything.”
‘Time to Scale It Up’
One of the benefits of such studies is that they can help inform better ocean planning and management, including initiatives like 30×30, the global effort to place 30 percent of the world’s land and seas under protection by 2030.
In South Carolina, one place that has already been set aside is the ACE Basin, a largely undeveloped 350,000-acre wetland on the state’s southern coast that is named for the Ashepoo, Combahee and Edisto rivers, which thread through it.
Riding a boat across the enormous basin can be disorienting. The world flattens as the sun beats down and salt marsh stretches in every direction. Almost everything is a vivid blue or green, like an abstract painting or a map come to life.
White wading birds dot the green marsh grasses, and occasional groups of gray bottlenose dolphins break the blue surface of the water.
Sometimes the dolphins corral their fish prey onto the mud and temporarily beach themselves for a meal, using the salt marsh islands like giant dinner plates. This behavior, called strand feeding, is rarely seen outside the Southeast.
On a recent visit, in one tucked-away corner of the marsh, something emerged from the mud at low tide: a wall, built with concrete blocks now nearly hidden by thousands of shells. They’re called oyster castles, and they look like something out of a storybook about mermaids.
The blocks were placed by volunteers from the Boeing assembly plant in nearby North Charleston. The effort was organized by the Nature Conservancy and the South Carolina Department of Natural Resources as part of a growing string of living shorelines projects, which aim to stabilize the coast using natural materials like shellfish and native vegetation, in South Carolina and beyond.
The oyster castles are meant to protect the landscapes behind them from erosion, sea level rise and storm surges. Scientists from the Nature Conservancy have been experimenting with a variety of methods for years, and are beginning to see results. Behind the oyster castles, which allow water to pass through and deposit sediment, mud had piled up significantly higher than elsewhere. And in the mud, marsh grass has taken root and grown tall.
“We’ve been testing and piloting things for so long, and now is the time to scale it up,” said Elizabeth Fly, director of resilience and ocean conservation at the Nature Conservancy’s South Carolina chapter.
In fact, the state’s oyster shell recycling program has now built small living shorelines at more than 200 sites, all with the help of volunteers, and often working with other groups, like the Gullah Geechee Nation. There’s a living shoreline taking shape at the Charleston wastewater treatment plant. Another at the entrance to the exclusive Kiawah Island Golf Resort. They’re at Marine Corps bases, at boat launches and at docks.
Many of these efforts are part of a sprawling network called the South Atlantic Salt Marsh Initiative, which includes the Pew Charitable Trusts, the Department of Defense, other federal agencies and state governments. The network spans one million acres of salt marsh across four Southeastern states.
Amid those efforts to reinforce and protect marine ecosystems, and as scientists work to better understand the pressures that are altering the oceans, people in coastal communities everywhere are already living changes large and small.
The day after Mr. Atkins demonstrated his fishing methods, the town of Mount Pleasant, S.C., 80 miles up the coast, held its annual Sweetgrass Festival to celebrate the region’s traditional Gullah Geechee baskets. Dozens of artists braved the heat in booths at a waterfront park, showing off and selling baskets woven from sweetgrass, bulrush, palmetto leaves and pine needles.
One artist and teacher, Henrietta Snype, displayed baskets made by five generations of her family, from her grandmother down to her own grandchildren.
Ms. Snype started making baskets at age 7. Now, at 73, she takes pride in upholding the tradition and teaching others the craft and its history. But she feels the world around her changing.
She said she had noticed the climate shifting for many years now. Big hurricanes seem to have become more frequent and seem to do more damage. And making baskets is harder, too.
Traditionally, the men in basket-making families went out into the dunes, marshes and woods to gather the materials they needed. But lately, Ms. Snype said, the plants have been harder to find. Sweetgrass is diminishing, and harvesters have trouble getting access to built-up and privately owned parts of the coastline.
“The times bring on a lot of change,” she said.
Methodology
Maps and table showing human impacts on oceans reflect estimates based on the SSP2-4.5 “middle of the road” scenario, which approximates current climate policy.
Science
Bird flu slams seals and sea lions at the bottom of the world but spares Pacific Coast so far
For the last year and a half, Americans have watched and worried as H5N1 bird flu racked dairy herds and killed hundreds of millions of commercially raised chickens, turkeys and ducks.
But far less widely known is that the virus has devastated wildlife across the globe, killing millions of wild birds and mammals.
Few animals have been harder hit than elephant seals, sea lions and fur seals in the Southern Hemisphere. In some places thousands of carcasses and orphaned pups have littered the beaches.
On Thursday, a research team led by Connor Bamford, a marine ecologist with the British Antarctic Survey, reported a 47% drop in breeding females between 2022 and 2024 in the three largest elephant seal colonies on South Georgia Island.
Elephant seals stricken with avian flu at one of South Georgia’s largest colonies.
(British Antarctic Survey)
The elephant seals of South Georgia Island, located between South America and Antarctica in the South Atlantic, are the largest breeding colony on the planet.
The virus hit there in 2023, Bamford said, and researchers were there to see it. But it was their visit in 2024 that really drove the devastation home.
“Normally there’s about 6,000 seals on St. Andrews Bay,” he said, describing a two-mile strip of beach along the northeastern side of the island. Usually it’s hard to make your way through the animals, it’s so jam-packed.
But in 2024, “it was easy. There were massive gaps. There were so few of them,” he said.
Other large breeding colonies — including along the Argentinian coast, as well as several other islands north of the Antarctic Circle — have also been hit. In 2023, UC Davis researchers reported that nearly 97% of elephant seal pups died at Argentina’s Peninsula Valdes, the most deaths ever recorded for this species.
According to Ralph Vanstreels, a marine ecologist with UC Davis who is researching the animals in Argentina, two-thirds of southern elephant seal colonies are now infected. Only those near New Zealand and Australia have been spared.
“We’re just holding our breath,” in hopes the virus doesn’t get there, he said.
Vanstreels said genetic analyses show the strain of virus circulating in Argentina acquired mutations allowing it to pass easily between mammals. He said it’s not yet clear whether the virus that has hit other elephant seals and pinnipeds in the region carries the same mutations.
Nor does anyone know whether the virus will move north to populations along the California coast — or into people.
But it’s left a deadly wake.
Reports of southern sea lions, fur seals and crabeater seals dying en masse have come in from across the region.
Vanstreels and Bamford say there’s no way to know the full extent of the virus’ toll on these animals. Many of these species, such as crabeater seals, are so remote that there are few, if any human observers to witness the devastation.
More than 30,000 sea lions in Peru and Chile died between 2022 and 2024. In Argentina, roughly 1,300 sea lions and fur seals perished.
A researcher launches a drone on the island of South Georgia, home to the world’s largest southern elephant seal population.
(British Antarctic Survey)
Vanstreels said researchers don’t yet have any clear idea about why northern elephant seals and marine mammals in the north Pacific, including those that breed along the California coast, have been spared.
He said the strain circulating off the North American Pacific coast doesn’t carry the mutations seen in South America, so that may be why. There may also be differences in population densities or in the local marine ecosystem.
“We think the South American sea lion played a big role in transmission, carrying the virus along the coast and perhaps introducing it to the elephant seal population,” he said. “Maybe the areas where the Northern elephant seal lives don’t have as good a vector for the infection to be spread.”
Bamford and Vanstreels say the loss of this many animals will probably affect the broader ecosystem as well.
For example, elephant seal placentas are a major source of food for a variety of coastal animals, such as birds and crabs. In addition, the seals’ deep-sea foraging brings nutrients to the ocean surface, where fish, kelp, shrimp and other sea life depend on their waste and refuse for sustenance.
“You get rid of half of their population, that’s going to have an impact,” Vanstreels said.
Science
Jesse Marquez, tireless defender of L.A. port communities, dies at 74
When Jesse Marquez walked into the Los Angeles harbor commission hearing room in 2013, he didn’t bring a consultant or a slideshow. He brought death certificates.
Each sheet of paper, he told the commissioners, bore the name of a Wilmington resident killed by respiratory illness. Wedged between two of the country’s busiest ports, the neighborhood is dotted with oil refineries, chemical plants, railyards and freeways. It’s one of several portside communities known by some as a “diesel death zone,” where residents are more likely to die from cancer than just about anywhere else in the L.A. Basin. For decades, Marquez refused to let anyone forget it.
He knocked on doors, installed air monitors, counted oil wells, built coalitions, staged demonstrations, fought legal battles and affected policy. He dove deep into impenetrable environmental impact documents.
“Before Jesse, there was no playbook.” Earthjustice attorney Adrian Martinez said in an interview. “What was remarkable from the beginning is that Jesse wasn’t afraid to write stuff down, to demand things, to spend lots of time scouring for evidence.”
Marquez, founder of the Coalition for a Safe Environment, or CFASE, died surrounded by family in his Orange County home Nov. 3. His death was due to complications after he was struck by a vehicle while in a crosswalk in January. He was 74.
“He was one of a kind,” Martinez said. “He had a fierce independence and really believed in speaking up for himself and his community. He played an instrumental role in centering Wilmington in the fight for environmental justice.”
In 2001, when the port planned to ramp up operations and expand a major terminal operated by Trapac Inc. further north into Wilmington, Marquez and neighborhood organizers pushed back, winning a $200-million green-space buffer between residences and port operations.
When oil refineries evaded pollution caps through what organizers called a “gaping loophole” in Environmental Protection Agency policy, Marquez and others sued, overturning the policy and successfully curtailing pollution spikes at California plants.
And when cargo ships idled at California ports burning diesel fuel, Marquez and his allies pressed the state to adopt the nation’s first rule requiring vessels to turn off their engines and plug into the electric grid while docked.
Born Oct. 22, 1951, Marquez was raised in Wilmington, and lived most of his life there. As a child, he had a view of Fletcher Oil Co.’s towering smokestacks from his frontyard.
Years later, black pearls of petroleum rained down on Wilmington the day the oil refinery exploded.
Then 17, Marquez hit the floor when he heard the blast. Frantic, he helped his parents hoist his six younger siblings over a backyard fence as fireballs of ignited crude descended around their home, just across the street. His grandmother was the last over, suffering third-degree burns along the entire left side of her body.
“From that moment on, he’s always had Wilmington in his mind,” his 44-year-old son, Alex Marquez, said in an interview.
The memory shaped the battles he fought decades later. In college at UCLA, he crossed paths with young members of the Brown Berets, Movimiento Estudiantil Chicanx de Aztlán, and the Black Panther Party, later volunteering in demonstrations led by Cesar Chavez and Dolores Huerta.
“He started off within that movement,” Alex Marquez said. “It was his reason to bring a lot of different communities into his work.”
After a career in aerospace, he began organizing in earnest in the 1990s, aligning with groups such as the Natural Resources Defense Council and Coalition for Clean Air to oppose port expansion projects.
When his sons were old enough, he brought them along to photograph and count oil wells, later folding them into his other projects.
He described his father as a man of contrasts.
“When it was time to work, he was the most serious, stern, no patience,” Alex Marquez said. “But the minute the job was done, he completely transformed. He was your best friend who brought a roast turkey and a six-pack of beers. He partied and relaxed better than anyone I’ve ever met.”
Marquez’s home was always filled with dogs — he jokingly called his lawyers his “legal beagles,” Martinez recalled. He loved reggae music, dancing and was an amateur archaeologist. He kept a collection of colonial maps tracing the migration of the Aztec people, part of what his son called “his love for Native American and Aztec culture.”
He founded CFASE with a group of Wilmington residents. After learning about the port’s expansion plans, he hosted an ad hoc meeting at his home. There, residents shared their experiences with industrial pollution in Wilmington.
They talked about the refinery explosions in 1969, 1984, 1986, 1991, 1992, 1995, 1996 and 2001.
“Then someone says, ‘Well, I have two kids and they have asthma,’” Jesse Marquez recalled in a media interview in January. “And then someone else says, ‘All three of my kids have asthma — My mom has asthma — I have asthma.’”
The group would play a central role in developing the Port of Los Angeles and Port of Long Beach’s landmark Clean Air Action Plan and Clean Truck Program, which replaced more than 16,000 diesel rigs with cleaner models.
It pushed for zero-emission truck demonstrations, solar power installations, and won millions of dollars for communities for public health and air-quality projects.
The coalition helped negotiate a $60-million settlement in the seminal China Shipping terminal case — securing local health grants, truck retrofit funds and the first Port Community Advisory Committee in the U.S. — and later helped establish the Harbor Community Benefit Foundation, which funds air filtration, land use, and job-training initiatives across Wilmington and San Pedro.
Marquez’s group also fought off proposals for liquefied natural gas terminals, oil tank farms and hydrogen power plants.
Since 2005, diesel emissions at the Port of Los Angeles have plummeted by 90%.
Now Alex Marquez finds himself suddenly in charge of the nonprofit his father built.
He’s been learning to manage the group’s finances, fix its monitoring equipment and reconnect with its network of allies.
“It’s literally been a crash course in how to run a nonprofit,” he said. “But we’re keeping it alive.”
In Wilmington, residents point to visible symbols of Marquez’s work: the waterfront park, the electrified port terminals and the health surveys that documented decades of illness.
“He left us too early, but a movement that was just budding when he started decades ago has now blossomed into national and even international networks,” Martinez wrote in a tribute to Marquez.
Marquez is survived by his sons Alex Marquez, Danilo Marquez, Radu Iliescu and, the many who knew him say, the environmental justice movement writ large.
Science
State agriculture dept. is hiding bird flu information, legal aid group alleges in lawsuit
A rural legal aid group is suing the California Department of Food and Agriculture for refusing to disclose the locations of dairies infected with H5N1 bird flu.
More than half of the 70 confirmed human cases of H5N1 bird flu infection in the United States in the last year and a half have been in California dairy workers.
California Rural Legal Assistance, a nonprofit that provides free civil legal services to low-income rural residents, together with the First Amendment Coalition, says the California agriculture department is withholding information that could protect the public and allow front-line responders, such as health clinics and labor groups, to assist farmworkers and others at risk of infection.
“As a matter of first principle, the California Constitution and the California Public Records Act enshrine the strong right of the public to inspect the conduct of its public officials and to ensure that they are basically executing the duties that are given to them,” said David Cremins, an attorney with the rural legal group. The suit was filed Monday in Sacramento County Superior Court.
A spokesman for the state’s agriculture agency said he could not provide comment “because the matter is in litigation.”
Anja Raudabaugh, chief executive of Western United Dairies — California’s largest dairy trade group — also declined to comment.
It was a surprise when H5N1 bird flu was found to have infected Texas dairy cattle in March 2024. It soon spread to workers. Most cases in the U.S. have been mild, but one person in Louisiana died, and several others were hospitalized.
Globally, H5N1 has killed hundreds of people. Until recently, its mortality rate was considered roughly 50%. It has also killed millions of wild birds, mammals, domestic cats and commercial poultry. The virus was first discovered in China’s Guangdong province in 1996.
Public health officials, epidemiologists and infectious disease researchers worry it would only take a minor mutation in the virus now circulating in dairy cows and commercial poultry to enable it to spread easily between people, or cause serious illness, or both. The more opportunities the virus has to move between individual animals or jump into new species, the greater the likelihood such changes could occur.
In December 2024, Gov. Gavin Newsom declared a state of emergency in response to H5N1 and said he wanted to make sure that “Californians have access to accurate, up-to-date information” about the disease.
The state did release information on outbreaks at poultry facilities and in wild animals at the county level. But it did not do so for dairy outbreaks.
Agriculture officials described the infected cattle only as being in “the Central Valley” — an area encompassing roughly 20,000 square miles — or Southern California — a roughly 56,000 square mile area.
More than 770 dairies in California have been infected since the outbreak began in 2024.
Such vague information is “completely useless in terms of trying to figure out how the flu is spreading around,” said Angela Rasmussen, a virologist at the University of Saskatchewan’s Vaccine and Infectious Disease Organization in Canada.
“It’s a bit mystifying why that information isn’t clear and transparent,” she said. “I mean, when you’re dealing with an outbreak that has major implications in terms of both people’s livelihoods and in terms of the nation’s food supply, to not be more transparent about that, I think is actually really harmful in the long run, because it’s like, what are you guys doing? Like, why are you keeping this a secret?”
Cremins, the attorney, said it’s possible infections among dairy workers could have been avoided had location information been shared, because groups like his and “other members of the public” could have targeted “outreach and education to at-risk workers and communities.”
The plaintiffs also allege in their filing that the agriculture department’s “refusal to disclose the locations of H5N1 outbreaks … perpetuated a stark and unjustifiable information asymmetry: CDFA (the ag agency) and dairy producers know where and when bird flu outbreaks are occurring; CRLA (the legal organization), dairy workers, and the broader public do not.”
Other states, including Michigan, Arizona and Nevada, reported outbreaks at the county level.
The plaintiffs are seeking disclosure of quarantine records, a declaration from a judge that the agriculture agency violated the state’s open record laws, and — should they succeed — payment of attorney’s fees.
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