There is a particular irony in the fact that the oldest evidence of life on Earth is so easily overlooked. It does not announce itself with bones or shells or the dramatic silhouettes of dinosaurs. It sits in the rocks of Western Australia, in structures that look like ordinary mounds, formed by communities of microbes that lived nearly 3.5 billion years ago—before oxygen filled the sky, before forests reached upward, before anything that could be called an animal walked on land.
These structures are called microbialites, and a new review of fifty years of research in Western Australia, published in the journal Alcheringa, has summarized what they can tell us about the evolution and resilience of life—and how close they are to being lost . The record spans from the oldest known examples in the Pilbara, preserved in rocks almost 3.5 billion years old, to living microbialites in the UNESCO World Heritage area of Shark Bay, which scientists describe as a "Rosetta Stone" for understanding their ancient counterparts .
Microbialites come in two main forms: stromatolites, with distinctive layers, and thrombolites, with a clotted texture whose origins remain unresolved . They form when communities of microbes either precipitate minerals or trap and bind sediment, and they offer clues about where the earliest life lived, how the atmosphere became oxygen-rich, and how life responded to environmental upheaval in the deep past. Western Australia's record spans at least one, and potentially two, of Earth's five major mass extinctions .
Yet these ancient archives are surprisingly fragile. Living microbialites grow extremely slowly, meaning physical damage can take decades or centuries to repair, if it can be repaired at all . In May 2024, dozens of aurora chasers trampled 2,000-year-old thrombolites in a restricted area at Lake Clifton, causing what may be irreparable harm . Fossil sites face their own pressures: tourism, inappropriate collecting, and even scientific sampling can diminish them .
The protection of these sites falls under the category of geoheritage, which the 2021 Australian State of the Environment report concluded had a "poor" outlook due to the lack of national frameworks, focus, and resourcing . Little has changed since that assessment. The microbialite record, which has survived billions of years of geological upheaval, is now vulnerable to the cumulative effects of human attention and institutional neglect.
What makes this loss particularly difficult is that the record is not complete. Scientists are still debating how to distinguish structures built by life from those produced by non-biological processes, what environments ancient microbialites formed in, and why thrombolites are clotted rather than layered . The answers to these questions may lie in the very sites that are being damaged. Preserving the evidence is essential if future scientists are to answer questions we do not yet have the tools to ask.
The microbialite archive offers a deep-time perspective on how ecosystems respond to environmental change—a perspective that may inform how we navigate the disruptions of the present. But that perspective depends on the evidence surviving. The oldest story of life on Earth is written in stone, and stone, it turns out, can be erased. The question is whether we will choose to read it before it is gone.
AI Image Disclaimer: The visuals in this report were produced using artificial intelligence and serve an illustrative purpose only.
Sources: The Conversation, Daily Excelsior, Press Trust of India
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