Fish swimming through the coral on Australia's Great Barrier Reef. Photo: Getty Images
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Coral reefs are an irreplaceable environmental and economic treasure, in need of help

"Losing the world's coral reefs would be like burning every Impressionist painting - you won't get them back." A new exhibiton at the Natural History Museum shows just what a tragedy these natural wonders' loss would be.

When we hear the words "coral reef" we probably reminiscence on its collage of beauty, and feel nostalgic about Finding Nemo, but that’s probably as far as most people's knowledge goes. Yet despite occupying only about 0.1 per cent of the ocean’s floor, they provide life for at least a quarter of all marine species  and with rareness comes fragility. Human interferences such as overfishing, coral bleaching, pollution and climate change have damaged coral reef ecosystems, and many of them are now holding on for dear life.

By 2050, practically all of the world’s coral reefs will be seriously endangered. The Caribbean reefs, for example, have already lost 80 per cent of its coral cover since the 1970s, mainly due to the overfishing of the fish which eat algae that grows on it, as well as a disease that wiped out algae-eating sea urchins – causing the complete off-balance in the coral:algae ratio. Coral and photosynthesising algae are meant to live in symbiotic harmony when the water temperature is just right, but a rise in global temperatures stresses the algae; they get fed up and start to leave the coral in a process called "coral bleaching". The result is that the corals lose their algae, and without the algae they start to die. 

There are around 800 species of coral worldwide, and some have developed extreme survival tactics, like dissolving neighbouring corals with digestive toxins. But this isn't enough, and like all ecosystems, the damage caused to the coral reefs will have a domino effect throughout the world's oceans, and on land - like people living in countries like the Philippines and Haiti, two impoverished places which depend on the reefs for both food and tourism revenue.

To try to kick against public ignorance of just how important coral reefs are to us, the the Natural History Museum has curated a new exhibition about them. "This exhibition helps us to understand and predict the effect of human impact and climate change on our oceans, one of the biggest challenges facing our natural world today," said Sir Michael Dixon, the NMH's director ahead of its opening. "Coral reefs [...] are being studied every day here at the museum."

The exhibition is simple, spacious but effective. You walk in feeling as those you’ve been immersed in water, and there are geometrically-accurate structures of corals dotted around the space to create that "under the sea" illusion (though they're made from fresh plywood, the pungent smell of which may sometimes slap you back to reality).

Speaking to the NS at the press opening, Ove Hoegh-Guldberg from the University of Queensland spoke about why coral reefs are important, and the dangerous consequences of not having them around anymore:

Coral reefs are important for a number of reasons. Up front they are an enormously beautiful and diverse system – the most diverse ecosystem on the planet, aside from the rainforests. When you look at their contribution, they have generated trillions of dollars to economies across the planet. But what’s important is that there are about 500,000 people with very little means who live along coastlines and look to coral reefs for their daily meals and income. And those 500,000 people are extremely vulnerable. If we start to lose productivity of coral reefs and fisheries disappear, those people become even more impoverished.

It's an informative exhibition  and here are seven highlights:

1) It has six corals collected by Charles Darwin during his HS Beagle from 1831 to 1886  and even better, it's got the illustrations from his first scientific study, on the formation of coral reefs.

Darwin's notebook.

2) A giant Turbinaria coral – a massive, one-metre-long specimen, the many layers of which would have been a safe haven for many sea species.

3) A giant clam – the biggest of all living bivalves, and weighs as much as 300 bags of sugar. It's currently under threat of extinction as a result of overfishing.

4) A giant grouper – about the size of a large motorcycle, it’s the largest bony fish living in the Great Barrier Reef. But don’t be deceived by its size, as it doesn’t eat humans and is in real threat of extinction throughout the Indo-Pacific region due to overfishing.

A mighty, giant grouper fish.

5) A sea fan – a fragile lace-like structure that helps filter food out of the water. It’s also home to seahorses and nudibranchs.

6) Gorgeous 180 degree panoramic imagery of several reefs in a chamber of circular screens.

The immersive reef chamber.

7) A hundred real-life fish and 26 species of coral, making up a four-tonne aquarium. (And, of course, I tried to count up all the Nemos and Dorys I could find.)

"Losing the coral reefs would be like taking all the Impressionist pictures in the world and burning them, because you won’t get them back," said Hoegh-Guldberg. "Once you’ve lost them it’s a tragedy." On this evidence, it's clear why.

Coral Reefs: Secret Cities of the Sea will be opened to the public on 27 March – 13 September 2015, 10.00 – 17.50. All photos by the author unless otherwise credited.

Tosin Thompson writes about science and was the New Statesman's 2015 Wellcome Trust Scholar. 

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It's easy to see where Berlin is being rebuilt – just hit the streets

My week, from walking the streets of Berlin to class snobbery and the right kind of gentrification.

Brick by brick, block by block, the people are rebuilding the city once called Faust’s Metropolis. To see it clearly, put your boots on. One of the most bracing walks starts by the Gethsemane Church, which served as a haven for dissenters in the last days of the GDR and takes you down ­towards the Hackescher Markt.

Here, in what is still the eastern half of a divided city that wears its division more lightly, is a Berlin experience both old and new. In three decades of frequent visits, it has been fascinating to note how much this part of town has changed. Even a decade ago these streets were rundown. With crumbling buildings showing bulletholes, it wasn’t hard to imagine what the place looked like in 1945. Now there are lilacs, blues, and yellows. Cafés, bars and restaurants abound, serving the young professionals attracted to the city by cheap rents and a renewed sense of community.

 

Breaking the fourth wall

Looking north along Schliemannstraße, you’ll find a delightful vista of well-tended balconies. It’s a pleasant place to live, notwithstanding the gaggle of grotesques who gather round the corner in the square. On Kastanienallee, which forms the second leg of the walk, an old city feels young. It’s a kind of gentrification but the right kind. There’s more to eat, to drink, to buy, for all.

Berlin, where Bertolt Brecht staged his unwatchable plays, was supposed to have been transformed by a proletarian revolution. Instead, it has been restored to health by a very middle-class one. Germany has always had a well-educated middle class, and the nation’s restoration would have impossible without such people. The irony is delicious – not that irony buttered many parsnips for “dirty Bertie”.

 

The new snobbery

The British Museum’s survey of German history “Memories of a Nation” is being presented at the Martin-Gropius-Bau as “The British View”. Germans, natürlich, are curious to see how we observe them. But how do they see us?

A German friend recently in England  said that the images that struck him most forcibly were the tins of food and cheap booze people piled up in supermarkets, and the number of teenage girls pushing prams. Perhaps Neil MacGregor, the former director of the British Museum who will shortly take up a similar role here at the new Humboldt Forum, may turn his attention to a “German View” of the United Kingdom.

There’s no shortage of material. In Schlawinchen, a bar that typifies Kreuzberg’s hobohemia, a college-educated English girl was trying to explain northern England to an American she had just met. Speaking in an ugly modern Mancunian voice that can only be acquired through years of practice (sugar pronounced as “sug-oar”), she refer­red to Durham and York as “middle class, you know, posh”, because those cities had magnificent cathedrals.

When it comes to inverted snobbery, no nation can match us. To be middle class in Germany is an indication of civic value. In modern England, it can mark you as a leper.

 

Culture vultures

The Humboldt Forum, taking shape by the banks of the Spree, reconsecrates the former site of the GDR’s Palace of the Republic. When it opens in 2018 it will be a “living exhibition”, dedicated to all the cultures of the world. Alexander von Humboldt, the naturalist and explorer, was the brother of Wilhelm, the diplomat and philosopher, whose name lives on in the nearby university.

In Potsdamerplatz there are plans to build a modern art museum, crammed in between the Neue Nationalgalerie and the Philharmonie, home to the Berlin Philharmonic. Meanwhile, the overhaul of the Deutsche Staatsoper, where Daniel Barenboim is music director for life, is likely to be completed, fingers crossed, next autumn.

Culture everywhere! Or perhaps that should be Kultur, which has a slightly different meaning in Germany. They take these things more seriously, and there is no hint of bogus populism. In London, plans for a new concert hall have been shelved. Sir Peter Hall’s words remain true: “England is a philistine country that loves the arts.”

 

European neighbours

When Germans speak of freedom, wrote A J P Taylor, a historian who seems to have fallen from favour, they mean the freedom to be German. No longer. When modern Germans speak of freedom, they observe it through the filter of the European Union.

But nation states are shaped by different forces. “We are educated to be obedient,” a Berlin friend who spent a year at an English school once told me. “You are educated to be independent.” To turn around Taylor’s dictum: when the English speak of freedom,
they mean the freedom to be English.

No matter what you may have heard, the Germans have always admired our independence of spirit. We shall, however, always see “Europe” in different ways. Europe, good: we can all agree on that. The European Union, not so good. It doesn’t mean we have to fall out, and the Germans are good friends to have.

 

Hook, line and sinker

There are fine walks to be had in the west, too. In Charlottenburg, the Kensington of Berlin, the mood is gentler, yet you can still feel the city humming. Here, there are some classic places to eat and drink – the Literaturhauscafé for breakfast and, for dinner, Marjellchen, a treasure trove of east Prussian forest delights. Anything that can be shot and put in a pot!

For a real Berlin experience, though, head at nightfall for Zwiebelfisch, the great tavern on Savignyplatz, and watch the trains glide by on the other side of Kantstraße. Hartmut Volmerhaus, a most amusing host, has been the guvnor here for more than 30 years and there are no signs that his race is run. The “Fisch” at twilight: there’s nowhere better to feel the pulse of this remarkable city. 

This article first appeared in the 01 December 2016 issue of the New Statesman, Age of outrage