The Impact of Mangrove Destruction on Scuba Diving

Mangroves are usually that tangle of roots you speed past on the way to the reef. But the more I travel and dive, the more I realise that mangroves might be one of the most important ecosystems for the future of scuba diving. They are the hidden foundation stones of the reefs we love. And when they are destroyed, the impact comes straight back to us as divers—in fewer fish, murkier water, and reefs that feel like the colour has been drained from them.

I have dived mangroves in Raja Ampat, snorkelled their channels with manatees in Mexico, shot juvenile shark species among them in the Bahamas, and photographed crocodiles on their edges in Cuba. Each time I came away with the same thought: how can something so unassuming above the surface hold so much magic below it? Now, every time I hear the word “mangrove” on a dive trip, I jump at the chance to shoot them—it’s always going to provide a new and unique encounter.

Yet everywhere I go, I also hear the same story. Mangroves are disappearing, cleared for shrimp farms, hotel views, or simple short-term gain. As divers, we need to ask ourselves a blunt question: what does it mean for our sport if these forests vanish?

The Link Between Mangroves and Reefs

To understand why divers should care, we need to see mangroves and reefs not as separate habitats but as two sides of the same coin. Reefs are the stage where the main show happens, but mangroves are in the background, providing the reef with all it needs to flourish.

Mangroves act as filters. Their tangled roots slow down runoff, catching sediment before it smothers coral heads. They soak up nutrients that would otherwise fuel algae blooms on the reef. Without them, everything that washes off the land ends up straight on the reef, and you notice it as a diver, cloudy water after rain, green tinges that linger for days, polyps covered in silt instead of extended and feeding.

They are also nurseries. Every time I have hovered around mangrove roots you slow down and begin to see so many juvenile fish hiding amongst the roots before they grow up and head to the reef. Barracuda and juvenile sharks also hang just outside the maze, waiting for a mistake. Seahorses cling quietly to algae on the roots. Photographers can spend hours here getting new and unique shots, but the importance goes beyond photography. Those tiny fish grow up and move out to the reef. Without the mangroves, that steady conveyor belt of new life stops, and reefs become quieter, emptier places.

What Divers See When Mangroves Disappear

The changes are not theory—they’re written in every logbook from divers who return to a reef year after year. Reefs near cleared mangroves lose their abundance first. Fish life thins out. The balance shifts toward algae and away from coral. Predators become harder to spot. Visibility suffers, not just on rainy days but for weeks afterward. That sparkle you get in the water column when everything feels alive? It dulls. Ultimately, the reef will die.

And perhaps most importantly, the variety of diving experiences shrinks. Mangrove dives and snorkels are some of the most unique sessions you can have. Photographing soft corals wrapped around roots in shallow sunlight or watching archerfish spit insects down from branches is unforgettable. When mangroves are destroyed, those opportunities vanish entirely. It is not just the reefs that suffer—we lose an entire dimension of diving.

Indonesia: Paradise Under Pressure

If there is one country that shows both the potential and the peril, it is Indonesia. Raja Ampat is home to some of the most spectacular mangrove diving in the world. I still remember floating in a lagoon where mangrove roots plunged into water so clear it felt like glass. Soft corals bloomed on the roots, and juvenile reef fish darted around in shafts of sunlight. When you looked upward toward the sky, you were blessed with the most incredible Snell’s window view, a reminder of how close you were to the surface. A paradise for photographers and a nursery for the reefs just beyond.

But Indonesia has also lost huge swathes of mangroves, mostly to shrimp farms. Flying over parts of the country on the way to a dive destination, you can see the scars clearly: rectangular ponds where forests once stood, waterlogged and often abandoned when the farms fail. The sediment that escapes from these developments clouds the reefs downstream. Talk to dive guides who grew up in coastal villages, and they will tell you how the fish life has changed in just a generation. Bays that were once alive with juvenile fish now feel empty.

The good news is that there are projects fighting back. In West Papua and North Sulawesi, communities are replanting mangroves and reconnecting old shrimp ponds to the tides. Some dive operators now take guests into mangrove channels not just to show off the beauty, but to explain why protection matters.

Mexico: Tourism’s Double Edge

Mexico is a fascinating case because it combines some of the best mangrove-reef systems in the world with some of the heaviest tourism pressure. On the Caribbean coast, mangroves line the lagoons behind the barrier reef. They filter freshwater from cenotes, keeping the reef clearer and more balanced.

When I moved to Mexico many years ago, I was lucky enough to live in a marine park—and we lived in the mangroves. We used to walk at night and see fireflies glowing between the trees. Countless crocodile eyes would reflect back at us from the water as we shone torches across the mangrove fields. The area was so alive, and it meant the reef was among the best the Caribbean had to offer.

But around Cancún and parts of the Yucatán, mangroves have been cleared for hotel zones, golf courses, and marinas. The result is obvious underwater. Shallow reefs close to these developments often feel murkier, less diverse, and more stressed. In some areas, the reefs have disappeared altogether, replaced by adventure parks where tourists can swim.

On the Pacific side, estuaries once rich with mangroves have been converted to shrimp ponds or urban development. Divers chasing pelagics in the Sea of Cortez might not link their encounters with mantas or sea lions to coastal mangroves, but the connection is real. Healthy estuaries feed the productivity of the entire system. Lose them, and the knock-on effects ripple outward to the offshore sites we love.

Mexico is also home to some of the most promising restoration projects. In Sian Ka’an and other protected areas, communities are actively replanting mangroves and blocking further development. Divers who visit eco-focused resorts here see the difference directly on the reef. It is a living example of how conservation pays dividends. It was in the Sian Ka’an Marine Park that I first lived in Mexico, working on marine conservation projects.

The Caribbean: Stories of Loss and Resilience

The Caribbean offers perhaps the clearest illustration of what happens when mangroves are destroyed—and when they are saved. Many islands cleared mangroves for cruise ship docks or marina projects. You can see the result in Jamaica, parts of the Bahamas, and sections of the Virgin Islands, where reefs feel degraded and fish life is sparse. Divers come back disappointed, wondering why their memories from the 1980s feel richer than what they see today.

By contrast, look at Belize. The government protected huge stretches of mangroves along the coast and around the cayes. The result is obvious: the barrier reef still hums with life, juvenile fish pour off the mangroves into the reef, and dive operators proudly run mangrove tours as part of their trips.

The same pattern appears in Cuba, where the Zapata mangroves remain intact and the diving offshore still feels like a step back in time. On a recent trip to Cuba, I had the pleasure of driving a speedboat for 15 minutes or more and seeing nothing but a thick forest of mangroves. It was there we were able to photograph a crocodile in the water, still protected by these mangroves.

Conservation and Awareness

So what can be done? The first step is awareness, and this is where divers come in. Every time we dive or snorkel a mangrove system and share images, stories, and enthusiasm, we chip away at the old stereotype of mangroves as mosquito-ridden swamps. Instead, we show them for what they are: nurseries, filters, protectors, and dive sites in their own right.

Around the world, projects are succeeding because they combine science with community. In Indonesia, replanting only works when local villages see benefits. In the Caribbean, restoration projects succeed when fishers understand that more mangroves mean more fish. In Mexico, eco-tourism linked to mangrove protection is beginning to shift the narrative.

As divers, we can make choices that matter. Book trips with operators who protect their mangroves instead of cutting them. Support NGOs that restore mangrove belts. Document and share what you see in mangroves—both the beauty and the loss. Use your photography to inspire. Even asking during a dive trip briefing, “Do you have mangrove sites we can see?” signals to operators that guests care.

Why This Matters For Diving’s Future

The destruction of mangroves is not just an environmental issue—it is a diving issue. It is about whether the reefs we travel halfway across the world to see will still be vibrant in ten or twenty years. It is about whether young divers will still experience the thrill of seeing a reef alive with every size of fish, from tiny recruits to apex predators. It is about whether photographers will still have those crystal-clear conditions that make a wide-angle reef scene sing.

Every mangrove cut today is a slice taken off the future of diving. Every mangrove saved or replanted is an investment in that future.

When I float in a mangrove channel, camera in hand, watching sunlight ripple through roots and juvenile fish scatter in clouds of silver, I see more than a pretty scene. I see the reef I will dive tomorrow, the reef my nephews will dive in ten years’ time, the reef we all hope will still be thriving for decades. If we as divers do not care about mangroves, we are ignoring the roots of our own passion.

Mangroves give us fish, clear water, healthy reefs, storm protection, carbon storage, and unforgettable dive experiences. They ask for very little in return—just space to grow and our willingness to value them.