What Can We as Scuba Divers Learn from David Attenborough’s Ocean?

There are few voices in the natural world that carry as much weight — or as much calm urgency as Sir David Attenborough. When he speaks, people listen. Not because he shouts,  but because he educates. He brings the world to us as he sees it today and has seen it over the past 70 years, and he challenges us to rethink how we interact with it.

His new film, Ocean, is no exception. It’s breathtaking, of course — a cinematic deep dive into the blue heart of our planet that we as scuba divers are lucky to be able to see with our own eyes. It’s full of the kind of footage we’ve come to expect from his team—swirling bait balls under siege by dolphins and sharks, time-lapse corals blooming like alien flowers, and ghostly creatures drifting through the twilight zone. But this isn’t just nature porn for TV, instead it’s a call to action, and for us, scuba divers, it’s one we understand better than most.

So let me ask you a hard question: Are we, the people who claim to love the ocean most, really doing enough to protect it?

Because Ocean doesn’t let us off the hook. It celebrates the beauty, yes. But it also exposes the fragility, the loss, the wounds. And it asks, in quiet but undeniable terms — what are we willing to do about it?

In this article the idea is not to convince you to watch the show, you should already want to as divers, nor is it to tell you the fine details of the program, but instead to discuss the lessons we can learn, as divers.

So, let’s break down the lessons from the film—not as casual viewers with no intimate knowledge or firsthand experience of the ocean, but as divers. As people who spend time in the water, camera in hand, eyes wide open. What can we learn? What should we do differently? And are we brave enough to answer that honestly?

1. The Ocean Is Not Limitless — And We Know It Better Than Anyone

Attenborough begins Oceans with an idea we already understand in our bones: that the sea is vast but vulnerable.

Think about your last 50 dives. How many of them were truly pristine? I don’t mean “had a turtle” or “some nice coral.” I mean untouched, unbleached, unpolluted. The truth is, even the best locations—Raja Ampat, the Galápagos, the Red Sea—now carry scars. Coral bleaching. Ghost nets. Plastic fragments. Reefs that were vibrant just five years ago now seem paler, thinner, emptier. For years, Raja Ampat was the best place on earth to see pygmy seahorses. Then, suddenly, in a single year, they all vanished. Fortunately, they’ve made a comeback as sea temperatures stabilized, but it was a stark reminder of how fragile even the most pristine areas really are—how quickly perfection can slip away.

And yet we still talk about the ocean like it’s infinite. In dive briefings, we refer to “remote” sites, “untouched” seamounts, “virgin” reefs. But Ocean challenges that myth. It shows that nowhere is really remote anymore — not when microplastics are found in the Marianas Trench, and fishing boats are draining the Antarctic Ocean of it’s Krill supply.

As divers, we don’t have the luxury of distance. We’re witnesses. We’re there in the water, watching the changes unfold. If Attenborough is the voice of the ocean, we’re its eyes.

2. Beauty Doesn’t Equal Health — and That’s a Dangerous Illusion

Oceans is full of gorgeous visuals. But what makes the film unsettling is how often that beauty is deceptive. A reef glowing under natural light might still be on the edge of collapse. A pod of dolphins hunting in unison might be the last generation to do so in that location.

As scuba divers, underwater photographers and videographers, we’re part of this paradox. We hunt for beauty. We highlight the best, the brightest. And that’s understandable — who wants to fill their Instagram feed with dying coral?

But maybe we need to ask: are we painting a false picture?

I photograph animals and underwater scenes from some of the very best places on Earth. I like to think the images I capture show the ocean at its most stunning—its absolute best. But the truth is, I rarely post images that reflect the negative side of what I see. Is my own Instagram channel presenting an unrealistic version of ocean health? Are the pictures I’m taking turning a blind eye to the issues unfolding beneath the surface?

We often say, “People protect what they love.” But people only love what they understand. If we’re only showing the postcard version, we’re not helping them understand. Ocean challenges us to tell the whole story — not just the romantic one.

So, fellow divers: when was the last time you shot decay, not just beauty? When did you use your camera to challenge, not just celebrate?

I know for me, I have dived places that have been ravished, completely destroyed and at the time I just got frustrated that there were no good photo opportunities. Instead, I should have thought to myself, how can I tell the story of the devastation I see.

3. We Can’t Separate Ourselves From the Damage — No Matter How Careful We Think We Are

This one stings. As divers, we tend to think of ourselves as the good guys. And, in many ways, we are. We pick up trash on dives. We run reef cleanups. We post #SaveOurSeas with moral clarity.

But then you look closer. And Oceans makes us look closer.

Our carbon footprint? Huge. Think about a typical dive trip: fly 5,000 miles, board a diesel liveaboard, power dive sites with generators and compressors. Then there’s our gear — synthetic fabrics, neoprene, lithium-ion batteries, imported parts. Multiply that by every diver on your boat.

The very act of diving — done poorly — can be destructive. Poor buoyancy wrecks reefs. Fins stir silt into coral polyps. Anchors break fragile systems. Feeding fish for photo ops?

Attenborough doesn’t scold in Ocean. But he doesn’t flinch either. He reminds us that we are in the system, not above it.

Are we willing to really examine our own impact?

The program poses many questions about the sustainability practices of many parts of the industry, especially bottom trawling and the destructive nature of it. These underwater scenes of the ocean bed being scraped clean are the most powerful in the whole film — they are the most though provoking for me. They make me ask myself, am I happy to continue to eat seafood?

The film makes it clear that the goal isn’t to stop fishing altogether, but to reduce the damage it causes and ensure we can continue fishing sustainably in the future by changing methods today. Personally, I believe we’ve reached a point with the fishing industry where it’s hard to trust what we see in supermarkets and stores. As a conscious diver, I find it increasingly difficult to eat any seafood products—and this program only reinforces that discomfort.

Being in the water doesn’t make us protectors by default. It’s our behavior that earns us that title, how far are you prepared to change your own behavior?

4. There’s Still Hope — But It’s Conditional On Change and Progress of Marine Parks 

It’s easy to feel overwhelmed. Oceans doesn’t shy away from loss — from fisheries collapse to acidification to coral death. But Attenborough also reminds us: nature can rebound, if we let it.

We as divers have seen this, we dive in places that are some of the most protected marine reserves in the world, and it is in those places where we find the very best diving. Places such as Raja Ampat have done wonders for marine health and the protection of such places is a real success story. The increase in biomass and diversity has been staggering since it was protected, and this helps support all the neighboring areas.

Marine sanctuaries work. Responsible tourism can work. Education, policy pressure, local stewardship — they’re not abstract ideas. They’re tools we have now. Almost everywhere we have made the ocean a “no take” zone, the rebound has been incredible. But we need to make more, much more.

But they require action. They require us not just to observe the ocean, but to fight for it. How hard are you prepared to fight?

Here are some uncomfortable questions:

• When was the last time you donated to a marine conservation NGO?

• Have you ever chosen a dive operator based on their environmental practices—or just their camera rinse tanks?

• When was the last time you questioned the sustainability of your seafood meal at a restaurant?

• Would you give up diving in a “closed” area if it meant better long-term protection?

These aren’t questions I ask lightly, and neither do I claim to be better than the next diver … but a program such as Ocean helps us ask these questions from ourselves.

5. Divers Are the Ocean’s Storytellers — and That Comes With Responsibility

One of the most powerful sequences in Oceans isn’t actually filmed underwater, instead it’s during the start of the program where Attenborough describes his first dive on a coral reef, he relays the story of how he forgot to breathe as he was so taken aback.

That’s us. That’s who we can be. Observers. Connectors. Storytellers.

We have access most people don’t. We can show the world what lies beneath the surface — what’s worth saving, and what’s at risk. But to do that well, we need to evolve.

We need to go beyond pretty pictures. We need to learn the science behind what we see. We need to document not just the coral but the heat maps, the bleaching and the changes to the oceans. The same goes for all of our diving, we are duty bound to tell more of a story.

We need to use our diving — and our cameras — as acts of witness. And, when necessary, as acts of resistance.

Conclusion

David Attenborough has spent his life showing us nature. But Ocean is more than a nature documentary. It’s a provocation. It asks us, with the gentle weight of truth: What will you do now?

As scuba divers, we don’t get to be passive consumers. We are among the few who can see what’s at stake. That gives us power. And with power comes obligation.

So what do we do?

We shoot with conscience. We travel with care. We ask hard questions of the businesses we support. We advocate.

We dive — but not just for ourselves, instead to tell the stories of what we see.

And yes, Ocean is stunning. But if all we do is admire the cinematography and move on, we’ve missed the point.

And next time you descend underwater, ask yourself: am I just visiting… or am I helping?