// WIRED US/UK — MONDO
Tiny Hairs That Help Corals Breathe May Malfunction in Warming Oceans
The original version of this story appeared in Quanta Magazine.
At first glance, corals present as little more than colorful rocks—piles of lobes, stalagmites, and branches poking out from the seafloor.
They are anything but. Corals are complex creatures that form enduring colonies, and just like other animals they need oxygen to live. Across the living surface of coral, a frantic dance of survival takes place, invisible to our eyes and unknown to science before 2014. The tiny dancers are hairlike cilia, and new research into these microscopic structures is revealing just how active corals are in determining their own fate.
Corals aren’t fortunate enough to have a consistent supply of oxygen, and they can’t change location to seek it out. During the day, the tiny polyps that make up a coral colony get plenty of oxygen from the symbiotic algae that photosynthesize within their tissues. But at night that process stops, and a coral polyp’s only source of oxygen is the water around it. Then it’s do or die for the cilia. Using mechanisms scientists are still trying to understand, the cilia wave around to generate fast-moving vortices of water that circulate oxygen to the coral’s outer tissues, in addition to helping keep the colonies free of sediment.
A study published in Science in May 2026 provides new insight into how organisms with no brain or musculoskeletal system can generate and regulate this process—and what happens when the water around them warms up. Warmer water naturally carries less oxygen, which prompts corals to move their cilia faster and faster, as if gasping for breath. Above a certain temperature, the system starts to work against itself; the furious beating of cilia uses up any oxygen the coral’s tissues can absorb, and then the polyps can suffocate in the less oxygenated water. Biophysicists, marine biologists, mathematicians, and modelers are now collaborating to better understand the physiological and hydrodynamic forces at work, and how they correlate with bleaching patterns, coral disease, and mass die-offs.
This dynamic picture is somewhat new to scientists, who have long used corals’ symbiotic algal partners as indicators of their health. Cilia may serve as a more direct signal, said Rachel Alderdice, a marine biologist who studies coral stress biomarkers and genomics at the University of Konstanz in Germany and was not involved in the research. “It’s these finer details that could help us understand why some corals bleach and others don’t, [even when] they sit right beside each other.”
Every coral colony is cushioned by a thin boundary layer of water whose movement is slowed by friction at the coral’s surface. Researchers assumed that corals were passive with respect to the slow-moving boundary layer, simply relying on natural diffusion through it to provide nutrients and oxygen.
Then, in 2014, a team from the Massachusetts Institute of Technology and the Weizmann Institute of Science published a groundbreaking study showing that coral cilia interact with the boundary layer by rapidly whipping about to generate swirls of fresh, oxygenated seawater. Until a decade ago, scientists thought of these cilia merely as brooms that move mucus and sweep away waste particles and other debris. The research not only modeled the tiny vortices created by the cilia for the first time, but also revealed the cilia’s importance for survival and metabolism.
At first, the microbiologist and environmental engineer Orr Shapiro, who led the 2014 work at MIT as a postdoctoral fellow, was interested in how microbes that infect corals and cause disease follow concentration gradients, a process called chemotaxis. Under the microscope, he noticed something weird: In the boundary layer, particles were swirling around and mixing together—not at all like the passive diffusion he had been expecting.
“That was to me, and I think later on to the entire field, sort of a paradigm shift,” said Shapiro, now a researcher at the Volca