Seagrass: the coral of the Baltics

Healthy green seagrass with long, dark roots visible in the sandy seabed, sun rays breaking through the surface. Image courtesy of the John Nurminen Foundation

There’s an expression, ‘what the eyes don’t see, the heart can’t feel’, which explains perfectly why so many conservationists, scientists and environmental campaigners are also photographers and videographers. It makes sense – after all, the majority of people will never have the opportunity to experience coral reefs in person. Nor the vast eelgrass meadows of the Baltic Sea. Both of which are simultaneously enchanting and threatened.

And this means that there is work to do to protect these essential marine ecosystems, while telling their stories so that we might help to preserve them in the future. Ocean photographers like Pekka Tuuri and Canon Ambassador, Meeri Koutaniemi are so important to marine conservation all over the world. Meeri for her recent work on the fragility of the coral reefs of the Indian Ocean, and Pekka, who has been shooting underwater for thirty years, whose images help the John Nurminen Foundation to tell the stories of their work. Most recently, this has been through an exhibition at the Musiikkitalo – Helsinki Music Centre, supported by Canon Finland, called World Unseen – Stories of the Seas.

In Finland, The John Nurminen Foundation is on the frontline of marine conservation and has been running projects to protect the Baltic Sea since 2005. “First, we focused on reducing the nutrient load from land,” explains Miina Mäki, Programme Manager for Viable Marine Ecosystem Projects. “There is an overload of nutrients coming from municipal wastewaters, industries, agriculture, forestry and others.”

Seagrass suffocating by algae because of eutrophication. Image courtesy of the John Nurminen Foundation

Seagrass suffocating by algae because of eutrophication. Image courtesy of the John Nurminen Foundation

These excess nutrients result in something called ‘eutrophication’, which is when water becomes overloaded with nutrients like nitrogen and phosphorus. These, unfortunately, enter the sea primarily as a result of land use, running off from agricultural fields and forest ditches. In many ways, eutrophication is the Baltic Sea’s equivalent of coral bleaching, as its source is human-made and it can cause the collapse of vital underwater habitats. In the case of the Baltic Sea – its seagrass meadows.

But reading about this on a page just isn’t enough. It’s only when you see the suffocating seagrass that the effect of eutrophication truly hits home. Because this overabundance of nutrients flowing into the sea acts like a fertiliser for algae, which multiply like an explosion, blocking sunlight and preventing underwater plants from growing. And, of course, without light, they die. Which means habitat loss and oxygen levels dropping to the point where marine life flees – or dies too. In the long-term, it’s a devastating ecosystem collapse. And, like the bleaching of coral, eutrophication makes the sea less healthy, less safe and less able to support the life – including human life – that depends on it.

In the last decade, however, it has been an increasingly positive tale to tell, thanks to the many projects of the John Nurminen Foundation and others, not just in Finland, but across the entirety of the Baltic Sea. Much of their work is conducted above water, with the goal of reducing these excess nutrients at source. “At first, we focused on the wastewater sector because that was the most cost-effective action,” explains Miina. “But, later, we expanded this to also include agriculture, forestry, marine traffic and conserving the biodiversity of the Baltic Sea.”

A diver surveys a lush, green seagrass meadow underwater. Image courtesy of the John Nurminen Foundation

A diver surveys a lush, green seagrass meadow underwater. Image courtesy of the John Nurminen Foundation

Similar to the Reef Rescuers of Nature Seychelles, the Foundation has been able to work with divers in Finland to map of suitable sites for transplanted eelgrass shoots, to regenerate seagrass meadows. “We replant them to regions where they have historically grown, but have since been lost,” says Miina. “And now, if the water quality is improved enough, it might be possible to recreate the meadows that once were there. It's actually like underwater gardening by the divers. So, it's very hard work.” It’s done in small batches, with the intention that they will spread and form a huge living seagrass meadow in the future. In this way, the Foundation has restored marine meadows on the Finnish coast in both Helsinki and Raseborg. 

However, while the exhibition reflects this position of hope, it is uncompromising in the story it tells – whether that’s in the Baltic Sea or the Indian Ocean. And by inviting the visual voices of young creatives from the Canon Young People Programme, visitors not only feel a range of perspectives, but a sense of past, present and future.

But most of all, these images and videos give us a different view of ourselves and our relationship with the ocean. The flipside, if you will. Because for all its might and power – the roaring sea, the crashing waves – there is fragility and vulnerability. Through the underwater lens of devoted conservationists, Pekka and Meeri show us a truth too important to sugar coat: the health of our oceans begins and ends with us.

Learn more about how our technology is helping experts to restore coral reefs.

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