On a serene August morning, drive south on US-1 past Key Largo, and the water appears incredibly pure. Glassy turquoise is the color that appears on postcards. You wouldn’t believe that one of the planet’s oldest living structures is being destroyed by something slower and more bizarre than a heatwave. For the past ten years, the reefs off the southeast coast of Florida have been held accountable for climate change, and with good reason. Beneath that one, however, is a more subdued tale that has less to do with the sky and more to do with what we flush, drain, and allow to run off our driveways.
For those who haven’t considered it recently, coral is alive. One generation at a time, microscopic creatures known as polyps, which are related to jellyfish, are constructing limestone cities—not figuratively, but literally. They rely on factors that most of us never consider, such as nutrient balance, water clarity, the presence of the right kind of bacteria, and the absence of the wrong kind. The coral loses its color, begins to starve, and expels the algae that live inside it when those conditions tilt. Bleaching is what that is. For years, it has been occurring in Florida, and the majority of people—including locals—still don’t fully understand why.
Heat is the standard response, and heat exists. Summers in Florida have been shattering records that seemed unbreakable. However, with increasing annoyance, scientists researching the reefs from the south to the east have been pointing to something else: the constant, nearly domestic stream of wastewater that seeps into the same water that the coral inhabits. During floods, septic systems leak. Stormwater enters the canals directly from the asphalt, carrying pet waste, motor oil, and lawn fertilizer. When it rains a lot, treatment plants get overloaded and release things they shouldn’t. According to data from coastal advocacy organizations, it adds up to an astounding 10 trillion gallons of untreated runoff entering U.S. waterways annually. Much of that finds its way to the coral.
Speaking with members of the conservation community gives me the impression that all the oxygen in the room has been absorbed by climate change. It’s the simpler villain—big, ethereal, and the fault of someone else. Sewage is more difficult. We are sewage. It’s the storm drain at the end of the cul-de-sac, the old pipe that no one wants to pay to replace, and the cesspool beneath the old beach house. It’s possible that embarrassment rather than science is the reason for the reluctance to discuss it.
The proximity question is what makes the situation feel particularly precarious. Reefs near wastewater outflows or in the path of stormwater plumes appear to be degrading more quickly than reefs farther out, but scientists are still figuring out how much of the damage is directly attributable to nutrient loading, how much to bacteria, and how much to the mixture of chemicals that no one can fully account for. Rising sea levels make everything more difficult. Old septic systems that functioned well in 1985 are now leaking into water tables that reach the ocean due to groundwater rise.
Living close by causes you to become aware of little details. the way that, following a storm, the water near some inlets appears a little strange, almost green. The dive operators’ voice is now lower than it was in the past. Because sewer upgrades are expensive, no one wants to bring them up at county commission meetings.
There are solutions, and they’re not unique. The system would be significantly relieved by green infrastructure, such as rain gardens, permeable pavement, and low-impact construction that allows water to seep into the ground rather than rush toward the sea. Treatment plant modernization would be beneficial. It would be more beneficial to replace failing septics. It’s not glamorous at all. Nothing of it is suitable for a good picture. What’s left of the coral, however, doesn’t require a picture opportunity. Cleaner water is urgently needed. Time is still on your side. Most likely. It’s difficult to estimate the amount.
