Seagrass is brilliant. I know this because I study it. Much of my job is spent underwater, literally watching seagrass grow. But few people would have had the opportunity to experience seagrass in the same way, leading to what I call ‘seagrass blindness’.

March 1st is World Seagrass Day. It was celebrated for the first time in 2023, to call attention to the many benefits and services that this ecosystem provides.

Seagrass produces oxygen that supports all marine life. It absorbs carbon dioxide and locks it away in the sediment under its roots, a handy service that moderates the effect of climate warming.

Seagrass protects our coastline from erosion by trapping sediment and softening the impact of strong waves and currents. It filters and purifies water, halving the number of disease-causing bacteria in seawater.

It acts as a nursery habitat for many commercially important fisheries species, including the snapper, grouper, mullet, shrimp, crabs and clams.

Indigenous people and local communities collect seafood by hand at low tide, an activity called ‘gleaning’.

Saving Malaysia’s seagrass

Yet, we bite this hand that feeds us by building coastal structures such as artificial islands, ports and shipping terminals on or near seagrass meadows, by dredging up precious sand from the seabed, and by polluting our waterways to the point of no return for seagrass.

How do we know this? Because indigenous people and local communities who have long watched over their marine seascapes say so.

You would think it would be easy for scientists to convince the public and policymakers about the need for action, but reeling off facts at the lectern has not changed hearts and minds at the speed needed to save Malaysia’s seagrass.

Globally, we lose one football field of seagrass every thirty minutes. Locally, it may be more.

The problem is that most people have never heard of seagrass; even among those who are familiar with it, few recognise its significance, posing a hurdle in mobilising support for seagrass protection.

Science and the Arts

Perhaps we need to skin the cat a little differently.

In August 2023, the Rhythm in Bronze gamelan orchestra collaborated with scientists from Universiti Malaya to produce Seruan Setu – Secret Gardens of the Sea, a multidisciplinary gamelan concert with contemporary gamelan compositions by composers Sayyid Shafiee, Jyotsna Nithyanandan Prakash, Irena Taib, Adilah Junid, Mohamad Faliq Che Adeni, Teuku Umar Ilany and Jillian Ooi.

Local theatre luminaries, including Datuk Zahim Albakri, Aida Redza, Mark Teh, Khairi Anwar, Mac Chan, Raja Malek, Terence Chong and Danny Hoo, led by executive producer Sharmini Ratnasingam, joined forces to craft a performance that seamlessly integrated scientific facts with gamelan music, dance, animation, and documentaries.

Scientists gave short science talks in between music pieces, best described as mini-TED talks, providing context for the music.

Seruan Setu faced initial scepticism. One audience member asked to be seated near the door, presumably wanting an exit plan in place because “it’s a show about seagrass. How good can it be?” That sceptic stayed till the end – turns out seagrass kept them hooked!

According to audience surveys, slightly over half had zero-to-low knowledge of seagrass. By the show's conclusion, an astonishing 85 per cent expressed readiness to take personal action to support seagrass conservation, while 95 per cent desired more performing arts events with environmental themes.

The power of the Arts

Such is the power of the Arts in environmental advocacy, and we have seen a growing movement of this in Malaysia.

Before Seruan Setu, there was the Temple of Fine Arts’ Asli – Resonance in our Roots, Yusof Bakar’s Kedarah, dancer/choreographer Aida Redza’s Moved by Padi, Mary Anne Vaz’s Rainbow Birds, Chin San Sooi’s Water: A Musical, Greenpeace Malaysia’s Haze: Coming Soon art exhibition, Nur Tijan Firdaus’ waste-focused art, Shaq Koyok’s hard-hitting artwork about forest destruction and indigenous people, Rimbun Dahan’s alumni of nature-centric resident artists, and many more.

Such artistic expressions uniquely infuse emotions and cultural meaning into environmental narratives, where we not only gain knowledge but also form a deep, personal connection to the material.

Seruan Setu resonated with people in a manner surpassing what scientists could accomplish alone. But it was made possible only because we have a vibrant, diverse, and compassionate Malaysian arts community to draw from for support.

Towards a sustainable future

These incredible artistes are powerful allies in environmental conservation and science communication, and their artistic expressions are profound catalysts for change.

We need to incorporate them meaningfully into Malaysia’s sustainability agenda by providing them with funding, platforms and collaboration opportunities to empower them with agency and capacity.

A good start would be to end the division between arts and sciences in schools.

Together, artistes and scientists working in collaboration can propel Malaysians towards a sustainable future with greater speed and effect.

Happy World Seagrass Day!

-- BERNAMA

Dr Jillian Ooi (jillian_03@um.edu.my) is a seagrass scientist at Universiti Malaya and a musician in the Rhythm in Bronze gamelan orchestra. Her work in seagrass restoration, education and outreach is supported by the Pew Fellowship in Marine Conservation.