Abu Dhabi, United Arab Emirates

By James Alix Michel
VICTORIA, Seychelles, Nov 4 2026 (IPS)

I have stood on the corniche of Abu Dhabi at many moments over more than thirty years. Each time, I reflect on the distance this city has travelled: from a shoreline shaped by modest commercial buildings and dwellings to a capital whose architecture, institutions and ambitions look far beyond the horizon. Glass towers catch the Gulf light. The dome of the Louvre Abu Dhabi scatters sunlight across the water. Yet the transformation that interests me most is not the skyline itself. It is the thinking behind it.

What does it take to build a city of the future? Wealth, certainly. Technology, increasingly. But neither is sufficient without a vision of the society that city should serve. As a frequent visitor, a resident and a longstanding friend of the United Arab Emirates, I have watched that vision take shape. What I see is not a finished model, but a remarkable, evolving example of a country turning resources into possibilities.

That vision did not begin with glass and steel. Some leaders build institutions. Sheikh Zayed bin Sultan Al Nahyan built a nation, and gave it a soul. With wisdom, patience and an open heart, he brought the emirates together in 1971 and planted the seeds of unity, tolerance and generosity that still shape the UAE today. He believed in his people, cared for the land and the sea, and reached out to the world with kindness. The newly declared Zayed the Founder Day, to be observed each year on 7 January, is a beautiful way to honour a man whose vision lives on in every corner of this country. May Allah bless his soul.

No honest account of the UAE’s rise can overlook hydrocarbons. Oil provided the means for an extraordinary transformation. But natural wealth does not automatically produce lasting prosperity. Resources alone cannot build the institutions, skills and economic diversity needed to sustain development. What distinguishes the UAE, in my view, is its determination to treat oil revenue not simply as income to be spent, but as capital with which to prepare for a different future.

Trade, tourism, finance, manufacturing and technology have broadened its economy. Investment in education, healthcare and research reflects an understanding that the most enduring national resource is human capability. For small island states such as Seychelles, the lesson resonates. Our circumstances differ greatly, but the question is familiar: how do we use today’s opportunities to strengthen tomorrow’s resilience? The answer cannot be to wait until vulnerability becomes crisis.

One of the most revealing aspects of Abu Dhabi’s transformation is its investment in culture. The Louvre Abu Dhabi and the wider Saadiyat Cultural District express an ambition extending beyond tourism. They place art, history and encounters between civilisations within the country’s vision of development. The preservation of Qasr Al Hosn and other heritage sites provides an important counterpoint. A city moving rapidly towards the future must also maintain a conversation with its past. Modernity is too often measured in height, speed and scale. Museums, libraries and places of learning offer something less easily measured: space for reflection, creativity and understanding.

The same principle applies to education and healthcare. Institutions such as NYU Abu Dhabi, Sorbonne University Abu Dhabi and Cleveland Clinic Abu Dhabi illustrate the effort to make knowledge and specialised care part of the country’s foundations. Here, the city of the future acquires its deeper meaning: not only in what it displays, but in what it enables people to become.

Artificial intelligence has become central to the UAE’s ambitions. Its digital investments and the establishment of the Mohamed bin Zayed University of Artificial Intelligence signal a determination to help shape technological change. The value of that ambition lies in its human purpose: improving services, healthcare and education, and helping communities manage resources more intelligently. That responsiveness is also felt in ordinary moments.

I have often been struck by Abu Dhabi’s maintained public spaces, walkways and the sense of ease I experience walking its streets. The UAE ranks among the world’s safest places by residents’ perceptions of nighttime safety. Gallup’s 2025 Global Safety Report found that 90 percent of people surveyed in the country felt safe walking alone at night. For me, this is more than a statistic. That quiet freedom from fear is a precious part of daily well-being.

So, too, is the greening of a desert city. Trees, gardens and flowering verges soften the urban landscape. Abu Dhabi’s continuing tree-planting programmes, including native ghaf trees, seek to expand shade and improve the environment along walking and cycling routes. These are not merely decorative touches. They express care for how people experience the places they inhabit. As an islander and an advocate for ocean conservation, I am particularly interested in how urban ambition connects with environmental responsibility.

The UAE’s investment in solar power and other low-carbon energy sources, together with its net-zero commitment, reflects an effort to prepare for a changing energy future. Its continuing dependence on hydrocarbons also makes clear the complexity of that transition. The journey requires sustained implementation: cleaner energy, responsible water use, reduced emissions and habitat protection. The UAE’s mangrove restoration and marine conservation efforts are especially meaningful to me. Mangroves protect coastlines, shelter marine life and store carbon. Coral reefs sustain biodiversity and coastal livelihoods, even as warming seas place them under pressure. For Seychelles and other island nations, these are not abstract concerns. They are questions of security, identity and survival. A city’s relationship with the natural world does not end at its waterfront.

Another defining feature of the UAE is the diversity of those who live and work there. People from across the world contribute to its economy and daily life. Such diversity calls for more than mutual respect. It calls for belonging—and the assurance that every person’s safety matters, whatever their nationality. During the regional conflict, His Highness Sheikh Mohamed bin Zayed Al Nahyan gave powerful expression to that responsibility, placing the protection of citizens, residents and visitors at the top of the UAE’s priorities. “In the UAE,” he said, “everyone is Emirati through their love for this land and their contributions to it.” I find those words deeply meaningful. They speak of belonging not simply as something felt, but as a responsibility embraced by leadership. The Abrahamic Family House, bringing a mosque, a church and a synagogue together within one complex, offers another expression of coexistence. That spirit must also be lived beyond symbolic spaces. Workers’ dignity, fair treatment and opportunities across different backgrounds remain essential measures of progress. Recognising achievements need not mean overlooking the work that remains.

My perspective is also deeply personal. Over decades, I have witnessed the friendship between the UAE and Seychelles develop into practical cooperation. During my years in public office, I saw that partnership support water and electricity infrastructure, renewable energy, healthcare, housing and education. For a small island country, such cooperation is felt in families’ lives: access to treatment, reliable water, a home, or better opportunities for children. I remember with gratitude the late Sheikh Khalifa bin Zayed Al Nahyan. I also deeply value my longstanding friendship with President Sheikh Mohamed bin Zayed Al Nahyan, whose visionary leadership and commitment to his country’s development I have had the privilege of observing at close quarters. That friendship informs my account. It reinforces my belief that national achievement acquires greater meaning when it helps others strengthen their resilience.

The UAE’s experience cannot simply be replicated. Its resources, scale and circumstances are distinctive. The lesson here is not to imitate its skyline, but to draw inspiration from its willingness to imagine beyond present constraints—and to translate that imagination into action. Perhaps that is the deepest meaning of the UAE’s great leap. What I see taking shape is more than a skyline: it is a vision of prosperity that brings knowledge, culture, human well-being and care for the natural world into the same frame. Still evolving, still confronting the challenges that accompany rapid change, the UAE offers a beautiful example of what becomes possible when imagination is matched by the resolve to act.

Along Abu Dhabi’s corniche, the towers catch the light, but it is the horizon that holds my gaze. As someone who has returned to these shores over many years, and whose friendship with this country has deepened along the way, I find both beauty and inspiration in its unfolding story. I leave each walk with a feeling that reaches far beyond this waterfront: that the future need not simply be something we await. It can be something we have the courage to imagine—and the determination to build.

James Alix Michel is Former President of the Republic of Seychelles.

IPS UN Bureau

Dr Lindon Havimana from Solomon Islands National University (SINU) and Dr Christopher Cornwall from Victoria University of Wellington collect intertidal samples from the rocky shore for incubation experiments during PIOAC training in Wellington.

By Sera Sefeti
SUVA, Fiji, Nov 4 2026 (IPS)

The Pacific Ocean connects thousands of islands, and understanding how ocean acidification is unfolding across the region requires more than individual research projects or monitoring stations.

Scientists need observations from different island environments, collected over time, to understand how seawater chemistry is changing and what those changes could mean for marine ecosystems and the communities that depend on them.

The work is being strengthened through regional collaboration, with Pacific scientists sharing data, technical knowledge and research experience to build a more complete picture of a changing ocean.

Dr Katy Soapi, director of the Pacific Islands Ocean Acidification Centre (PIOAC) and a Pacific scientist, says the broader scientific community is aware that ocean chemistry is changing. The priority is now building local evidence to understand how those changes may affect different island environments.

“What Pacific scientists are now doing is building the local evidence needed to understand how those changes may impact our different island environments,” Soapi said.

“At many of our monitoring sites, we are seeing considerable natural variability in pH over days, months and seasons, which is normal,” she said. “It is important to capture this data over time because coastal waters are influenced by temperature, rainfall, freshwater inputs, biological activity, land-based pollution and local oceanographic conditions.”

PIOAC members with Salesa Nihmei from SPREP and a representative from the Asian Development Bank (ADB) at the 6th International Symposium on the Ocean in a High-CO₂ World, Tākina Wellington. Credit: SPC

Monitoring programmes are at different stages across the region. Fiji has an established programme, with monitoring in the Suva area since 2023 and data that contribute to Sustainable Development Goal 14.3.1 reporting.

Samoa has received support through access to monitoring equipment, training and technical advice, while the Solomon Islands programme is newer, with scientists from Solomon Islands National University receiving regional and in-country training as they establish the technical capacity for long-term monitoring. Kiribati and Papua New Guinea also have their own monitoring histories and research priorities.

These differences matter when comparing observations across the Pacific.

“This variation is important; a harbour in Fiji, a lagoon in Kiribati, coastal waters in Samoa or reef environments in Solomon Islands and Papua New Guinea can experience very different combinations of temperature, rainfall, freshwater input, current, biological activity and human pressure,” Soapi said.

“The Pacific is connected, but it is not environmentally uniform.

“This is why local monitoring is important and why we cannot rely solely on regional or global averages.”

Manibua Rota from the Ministry of Fisheries and Ocean Resources (MFOR), Kiribati, presents on ocean acidification monitoring in Kiribati at the 6th International Symposium on the Ocean in a High-CO₂ World, Tākina, Wellington. Credit: SPC

Connecting the Science Across the Pacific

The Pacific Islands Ocean Acidification Centre (PIOAC), established in 2021, supports efforts to connect national monitoring programmes and strengthen scientific capacity across the region.

The Centre brings together the SPC, the University of the South Pacific, the University of Otago and Earth Sciences New Zealand, formerly NIWA.

PIOAC’s work spans the Pacific, through joint work and ongoing discussions with nine Pacific Island countries and territories: Fiji, Papua New Guinea, Solomon Islands, Vanuatu, Tuvalu, Kiribati, Samoa, Tokelau and New Caledonia.

Its work includes providing monitoring equipment, technical advice, training, sensor troubleshooting, data management and quality assurance. It also connects Pacific researchers with international monitoring networks and supports countries in contributing data to regional and global reporting processes.

For scientists working in small teams across geographically dispersed islands, this support helps build the technical capacity needed to maintain monitoring programmes and generate reliable data over time.

Azaria Pickering, an ocean monitoring and technical officer at SPC in Fiji, says regional cooperation has changed how scientists approach monitoring.

“We’ve moved from monitoring our waters as individual countries to building a collective understanding of what’s happening across our Pacific Ocean,” she said.

“Through the Pacific Islands Ocean Acidification Centre and regional partnerships, we’ve created a community where knowledge is shared and challenges are solved together.”

She said the use of common equipment, methods and training was helping countries strengthen their monitoring programmes at home.

“We’re beginning to close critical data gaps across the region and use that evidence to engage our governments, shape national priorities and bring the Pacific’s experience of ocean acidification into global conversations, including at COP.”

For Dr Aleluia Taise of the National University of Samoa, the research is closely connected to the future of Pacific communities.

“As Pacific Islander marine scientists, we believe it is our responsibility as citizens and custodians of the Pacific Ocean to address priority issues affecting our livelihoods and wellbeing,” she said.

Taise says there remains a critical lack of scientific evidence needed to understand the effects of ocean acidification on coral reefs and coastal ecosystems.

“Research must be supported by stronger institutional backing, policy alignment and collaboration with regional and international partners to ensure it can continue.”

Azaria Pickering from SPC selects macroalgae from the holding tank for the biological incubation tests during PIOAC training at the Victoria University of Wellington Coastal Ecology Lab (VUCEL). Credit: SPC

From Measuring Seawater to Understanding Marine Life

While monitoring seawater chemistry provides information about changing ocean conditions, scientists also need to understand how these changes affect marine organisms.

This is the next area of research being developed by Pacific scientists.

In Wellington, scientists from Fiji, Samoa, the Solomon Islands and Kiribati took part in biological experiments training from 5 to 9 October, gaining practical experience in studying how marine organisms respond to ocean acidification and higher temperatures.

The training is intended to strengthen research connecting changes in seawater chemistry with their potential effects on corals, shellfish and other marine organisms.

Soapi said biological research would help scientists develop studies around locally important species and better understand the implications for reefs, fisheries and livelihoods.

“Monitoring seawater chemistry tells us how conditions are changing, while biological research helps us understand what those changes could mean for the organisms that support our reefs, fisheries and livelihoods,” she said.

For Dr Lindon Havimana of Solomon Islands National University, the research is also about ensuring scientific knowledge reaches communities before the impacts become more pronounced.

His interest in ocean acidification research stems from a responsibility to understand, anticipate and communicate changes taking place in the ocean and to consider how communities can prepare for a threat whose impacts may not yet be fully visible.

“I believe that the greatest value of science lies not only in understanding environmental change but also in ensuring that knowledge reaches people early enough to make a difference,” Havimana said.

“As scientists, we have a responsibility to bridge the gap between scientific discovery and community preparedness, transforming evidence into awareness, awareness into action, and action into resilience.”

He said the implications extended beyond ocean chemistry to the health of marine ecosystems, coastal fisheries, food security and the continuation of traditional practices.

Participants from Samoa, Kiribati and Solomon Islands remove their monitored species after a 30-minute incubation at different pH and temperature conditions on Day 1 of the experiment during PIOAC training. Credit: SPC

Taking Pacific Research to the International Stage

These regional efforts were represented at the sixth International Symposium on the Ocean in a High-CO₂ World, held in Wellington, New Zealand, from 13 to 16 October.

The symposium brought together the international scientific community under the theme Moving from Understanding to Action using Multiple Knowledge Systems.

Discussions examined ocean acidification alongside ocean warming, deoxygenation and other pressures affecting marine ecosystems, with a focus on strengthening scientific understanding and connecting research with action.

For Pacific scientists, participation provided an opportunity to present regional research, exchange knowledge and strengthen relationships with the international scientific community.

It also highlighted the challenges facing island countries, including limited monitoring coverage, equipment maintenance, technical expertise and sustained funding.

Dr Kim Currie, an ocean acidification consultant working with SPC, said access to scientific resources differed across Pacific countries.

“Some countries like Fiji, Samoa and the Solomon Islands have the resources to do the careful measurements that are needed, but other countries do not yet have the scientist and equipment necessary to do this work,” she said.

“Working with regional and overseas partners to share knowledge and skills is one important step towards understanding how the Pacific Ocean will cope in the future.”

For Soapi, the importance of that support is also shaped by her own experience as a researcher.

Reflecting on her early work in ocean acidification, she recalled the challenges of deploying monitoring equipment and working in a field where regional scientific support was limited.

“I had received training, but I was nervous about deploying equipment – this was all part and partial of being isolated and being new in a field,” she said.

That experience has stayed with her and influenced her commitment to supporting other Pacific scientists, particularly those working in small teams across large distances.

“For me, coming together means building a Pacific community of scientists who can support each other, share knowledge and collectively understand the changes taking place across our ocean.”

The work underway across the region is still developing. More monitoring, biological research, technical training and sustained support are needed to strengthen the evidence available to Pacific countries.

But by connecting national research programmes and bringing scientists together, the region is building a stronger foundation for understanding ocean acidification.

The aim is not to produce one picture of the entire Pacific but to bring together the different observations and experiences that explain how a changing ocean is affecting individual islands, ecosystems and communities.

IPS UN Bureau Report

Excerpt:

Satik Badeyan, president of the Center for the Territorial Development and Research NGO, which has been chosen as a partner in the restoration efforts on Lake Sevan, stands in front of a glamping site. Credit: Stella Paul/IPS

By Stella Paul
YEREVAN & GEGHARKUNIK PROVINCE, Armenia, Nov 2 2026 (IPS)

The midday sun shines brightly over Lake Sevan. In the still waters, a flock of cormorants drifts silently, their black feathers glistening in the autumn light.

Above them, another flock of black-and-white birds wheels effortlessly through the crisp late-October air. These are Armenian gulls; a species closely associated with the lake.

“For us, these cormorants and Armenian gulls are a matter of national pride,” says Luba Balyan, an ornithologist from the Scientific Center of Zoology and Hydro Ecology, Armenia, who is stationed at Norashen Reserve, a Ramsar-designated wetland on the lake’s shores.

According to Balyan, the gulls used the lake as an important breeding ground but abandoned their nesting sites for nearly 50 years because of hunting and pollution.

“The temperature has changed, and illegal hunting increased. But we worked very hard to restore the habitat and bring the birds back. They first returned around 2010-2011, and now their population has increased,” she tells a visiting group that includes officials from Armenia’s Ministry of Environment, the United Nations Development Programme (UNDP) and the Global Environment Facility (GEF), which has just approved funding for a major restoration project in Lake Sevan.

The funding – USD 1.4 million – was approved by the GEF at the 17th meeting of the Conference of the Parties to the Convention on Biological Diversity (CBD COP17) in Yerevan under the Global Biodiversity Framework Fund (GBFF). This initiative is one of three projects approved recently for restoring and protecting biodiversity in Armenia under various funds.

The Lake Sevan project offers a glimpse of how biodiversity finance announced at international negotiations can reach local communities. The funding will be channelled through the Asian Development Bank, Armenian government agencies, UNDP and local NGOs to support activities ranging from habitat restoration and anti-poaching patrols to ecotourism, sustainable agriculture and alternative livelihood programmes designed to reduce pressure on the lake’s biodiversity.

New Boost for an Ongoing Restoration Effort

Spanning over 450 square miles, Lake Sevan stands at an altitude of 1,900 metres above sea level, making it one of Eurasia’s largest freshwater high-altitude lakes and the largest lake in Armenia and the Caucasus region. The lake is broadly divided into two categories: small Sevan and big Sevan.

The new funding announcement comes as Armenia steps up its efforts to restore the Lake Sevan Basin through a series of conservation programmes backed by international donors and development agencies. The lake ecosystem has been under stress from overfishing, illegal fishing, contamination from dumping of garbage and uncontrolled tourism. The project aims to protect wildlife, improve the management of land and water resources, and support the communities whose lives and incomes depend on the basin.

The project covers the regions of Gegharkunik and Vayots Dzor and six communities around the lake: Martuni, Vardenis, Chambarak, Yeghegis, Vayk and Jermuk. By 2028, it is expected to directly benefit nearly 66,000 people and improve the management of grasslands, farmland and forests across the basin. It also seeks to better connect protected areas with surrounding landscapes, helping wildlife and ecosystems adapt to growing environmental pressures.

The Armenian government has already launched a range of conservation measures, including monitoring illegal fishing and hunting through a special environmental enforcement unit known as Eco Patrol. The local staff has been trained and equipped to identify and protect priority areas that are habitats for endemic species such as Sevan trout and Armenian gull.

Many of these activities are already underway through earlier conservation investments in the basin. Officials say the new GBFF funding will help expand them and bring them to additional communities.

“Lake Sevan is special to us. It’s a crown jewel for Armenia, the biggest freshwater reservoir in the region. So, when we had an opportunity, we decided to ask for funds for restoring Lake Sevan. I am very glad that it was approved for the amount,” said Armenian Environment Minister and COP17 President Hambardzum Matevosyan.

At Norashen Reserve, authorities are developing ecotourism programmes and biodiversity-friendly livelihood opportunities for local communities, according to Deputy Environment Minister Aram Meymaryan. He said these efforts, together with stronger patrolling and monitoring, are intended to generate economic benefits for local people while reducing pressure on fragile ecosystems.

Communities Become Partners in Restoration

Satik Badeyan is the president of the Center for the Territorial Development and Research NGO, which has been chosen as a partner in the restoration efforts on Lake Sevan. Under Badeyan’s leadership, the communities here have been carrying out multiple activities to control tourist flow by redirecting tourists to new attractions.

One example is a cluster of glamping tents in Tsovagyugh – a community on the northern edge of the lake. These glamping sites offer visitors a bouquet of experiences – designed by the community members themselves – including cycling and eating food cooked by locals, learning about the lake and its cultural and historical importance to local communities.

“Here, visitors can see us as a community and the value of the lake beyond its beauty or photogenic appeal; they can build a cultural bond with the community by attending different events inside the youth centre that we have built here, enjoying food cooked by local women in a sustainable way, riding a bike and buying handmade souvenirs, all of which benefit the community. These activities reduce the burden of uncontrolled tourism and lead to further restoration of the lake ecosystem.

Creating Alternatives to Illegal Fishing

According to her, a fresh lease of funding would further help the community develop and promote a culture of ecologically responsible living and environmentally sustainable economic activity, especially among their youth. It can also help address illegal fishing in Lake Sevan, which is driven by tourism demand and economic pressure on local communities.

“The illegal fishing here mostly occurs during the breeding season when fishing is banned. But if you tell someone, ‘Don’t catch fish,’ it doesn’t work because fishing has been their main occupation and only source of income for centuries, what are they supposed to do? In other words, you need to offer an alternative if you want to protect nature,” she said. “This is why we are building these glamping sites, creating alternative income opportunities for community members and slowly moving to a more sustainable lifestyle,” she says.

Karina Bruchyan of Chambarak said her family traditionally depended on fishing. Today, she earns income from beekeeping after receiving training and support through the Lake Sevan restoration programme. She now sells honey in local markets and at the eco-tourism centre in Tsovagyugh. For conservationists, such alternative livelihoods are key to reducing pressure on the lake’s fish stocks while creating new economic opportunities for local residents.

The restoration project will also support irrigation infrastructure, livestock watering points and forest nurseries to reduce land degradation and encourage more sustainable farming practices in lakeside communities.

As Armenian gulls circle once again over Lake Sevan and communities diversify their livelihoods beyond fishing, conservationists hope the latest investment will help secure the future of both the lake and the people who depend on it.

IPS UN Bureau Report

Excerpt:

Diego Mesa, GEF CEO and chairperson, addresses media on the status of finance mobilisation at COP17. Credit: Stella Paul/IPS

By Stella Paul
YEREVAN, Armenia, Oct 30 2026 (IPS)

The second week of COP17 was dominated by discussions on biodiversity finance, with new pledges announced and donor outreach intensifying. Yet as the summit approached its close, the financing gap for implementing the Kunming-Montreal Global Biodiversity Framework (KMGBF) remains largely unchanged.

Prior to COP17, the first global review of progress toward the KMGBF, often called the global biodiversity review, painted an alarming picture: the commitment to mobilise USD 200 billion annually for biodiversity was still far from being achieved. The conference therefore opened amid growing pressure on governments over missed targets, corporate responsibility and Indigenous rights.

Against that backdrop, finance has become one of the most closely watched issues in the negotiations.

“We started the replenishment cycle number 9, for 2026 to 2030, and the initial contributions were announced in June in the General Assembly of the Global Environmental Facility (GEF) in Uzbekistan’s Samarkand. And those initial contributions came at USD 3.9 billion for the next four years,” said Diego Mesa, the recently appointed CEO and Chairperson of the Global Environment Facility, at a press conference.

New and Emerging Donors, Including Cities

Since the adoption of the KMGBF, a notable financing trend has emerged: cities and provinces have begun contributing directly to biodiversity finance mechanisms.

The trend started two years ago when Quebec, the Canadian province that hosted COP15 in 2022, independently donated USD 1.4 million to the GBFF.

At COP17, the trend continued. On Oct 26 – observed as Finance Day, the City of Berlin pledged EUR 50,000 (USD 56,000) to the GBFF, while Quebec announced a second contribution of CAD 1.5 million.

Collectively, national and sub-national governments pledged more than USD 60 million to the GBFF. According to GEF sources, this included contributions from Germany (EUR 50 million), Iceland (ISK 160 million) and Monaco (EUR 1.5 million).

While the expanding donor base is an encouraging sign, the world still needs an estimated USD 200 billion annually by 2030 to halt and reverse biodiversity loss under Target 19. The current pace of finance mobilisation, therefore, remains far slower than what is required.

Mesa acknowledged these concerns about the biodiversity finance gap but argued that GEF funding has a catalytic effect, attracting additional public and private investment. He noted that each dollar committed through the facility typically mobilises several more dollars from other sources, and many donor countries also provide biodiversity finance through bilateral programs outside the GEF system.

“We obviously, you know, are concerned. We’ve read the (global) review report. But what we also need to highlight is that, in addition to the funds that come through the GEF, we have to take into account what I mentioned about being able to mobilise additional funds, whether it’s, you know, a multiplier of 8 or 8.2, on average, if we take GEF 8 as a baseline or blended finance, which is about 18.5,” he said.

Astrid Schomaker, Executive Secretary of the Convention on Biological Diversity, stressed that progress remains insufficient despite some gains.

“We all know that a lot of commitments were made four years ago in Montreal (including) mobilising at least USD 200 billion a year for biodiversity from 2030, from all sources. Reduce harmful incentives by at least USD 500 billion a year and align public and private financial flows with a framework. We have seen biodiversity finance increase quite substantially, but also from very, very low levels. Some figures suggest that we would have achieved USD 19 billion in 2024. That would be close to the 2025 milestone of 20 billion. But we also know that aid budgets are a lot under pressure, so that progress is not yet secure, to say the least,” Schomaker said in an address to the delegates on the Finance Day.

“From the side of the Secretariat, we would point to three questions or priorities that we hope you can discuss at this COP and move forward on. First, bring national biodiversity strategies and action plans into national budgets. Second, reform harmful incentives. And third, make public and development finance go further,” Schomaker said.

New Coalition Targets Harmful Subsidies

While much of the discussion centred on mobilising new biodiversity finance, negotiators also stressed the need to curb environmentally harmful spending. In that context, momentum grew around efforts to reform harmful subsidies with the launch of a new coalition of countries committed to Target 18.

Known as the “Friends of Target 18”, the coalition focuses on the KMGBF target to reduce harmful incentives by at least USD 500 billion per year while scaling up positive incentives for biodiversity.

Led by Colombia and Finland, and supported by the CBD, the coalition also has backing from the International Institute for Sustainable Development (IISD), the Organisation for Economic Co-operation and Development (OECD) and the United Nations Development Programme’s Biodiversity Finance Initiative (UNDP BIOFIN).

“Our work here in Yerevan can influence how natural resources are used, how goods are produced and consumed, and where public and private financial resources are directed,” said Hambardzum Matevosyan, Minister of Environment of the Republic of Armenia and COP17 President.

So far, only five countries have joined the initiative. However, Marina Von Weissenberg, Senior Ministerial Adviser of Finland and co-chair of the Friends of Target 18, expressed confidence that more countries would follow.

“We don’t need to spend more to close the biodiversity funding gap, we need to spend better. Governments have a real opportunity here to reshape public spending with future generations in mind, but they can’t do it alone. International coordination is key to giving governments the confidence to lead change,” she said.

Meanwhile, GEF continues to focus not only on raising new money but also on broadening the donor base.

“This is exactly what we were doing with this pledging session, with the USD 5 million going to the GEF Trust Fund, and with the 60 million going into the GBFF. But also expanding the donor base. And that’s why we were very pleased to announce that we have a total of nine new contributors to the GEF family of funds,” Mesa said to IPS.

GEF Keeps Pledging Window Open

In an effort to attract additional support, GEF has made a significant change to its replenishment process.

Traditionally, pledging windows close when a replenishment cycle ends. Under that system, pledges for the ninth replenishment cycle would have closed earlier in June, when GEF held its Assembly in Samarkand.

This year, however, the window remains open, allowing countries to make contributions throughout the year.

“This is the first time that we kept the window open for pledging. And this is to respond to requests to be more flexible from the donor side. So, we will have, hopefully, one additional pledging session in the UNFCCC COP (COP31) next month,” Mesa told IPS.

“But we also expect additional contributions to take place in the next calendar year. So, the window will remain open,” he added.

IPS UN Bureau Report

Excerpt:

Indigenous leaders from Brazil, DRC, Indonesia, Gambia, Peru and Thailand are named the Indigenous People’s Ambassadors for Primary Forests at COP17. Credit: Stella Paul/IPS

By Stella Paul
YEREVAN, Armenia, Oct 29 2026 (IPS)

At the Convention on Biological Diversity (CBD) COP17, the presence of Indigenous Peoples and Local Communities (IPLCs) is impossible to miss. Indigenous representatives speak at side events, participate in contact groups, advise negotiators and engage across multiple forums shaping the future of global biodiversity policy.

Yet amid this growing visibility, one message resonates throughout the conference halls: implementation of the Kunming-Montreal Global Biodiversity Framework (KMGBF) will fall short unless Indigenous peoples are meaningfully involved at every stage, from decision-making and policy design to implementation and monitoring. 

Many Indigenous leaders attending COP17 say that reality remains far from that goal. While governments increasingly acknowledge the role of IPLCs in protecting nature, participation is often limited to consultation rather than genuine partnership, they argue. This is particularly concerning because many biodiversity policies directly affect Indigenous territories, traditional knowledge systems, food sovereignty and cultural practices.

For communities that have stewarded ecosystems for generations, the challenge is no longer visibility. It is influence.

Against this backdrop, COP17 offered a rare moment of celebration. Six Indigenous leaders from Brazil, Peru, Indonesia, Thailand, The Gambia and the Democratic Republic of the Congo were named Indigenous Peoples Ambassadors for Primary Forests in recognition of their efforts to protect some of the world’s most ecologically important forests.

Leading the Good Fight for Nature

The awardees, Maimuna Jawara, Pirawan Wongnithisathaporn, Puyr dos Santos Tembé, Joseph Itongwa Miukumo, Julio Cusurichi Palacios and Herkulanus Sutomo Manna, share a common mission: protecting, restoring and stewarding forest ecosystems that sustain biodiversity, store vast amounts of carbon and support traditional ways of life.

The recognition came through the inaugural Indigenous Peoples and Local Communities Award, a joint initiative of the International Union for Conservation of Nature (IUCN), the Global Environment Facility (GEF) and the United Nations Forum on Forests (UNFF). The six winners were selected through an open nomination process that attracted 73 nominations from 27 countries.

Organisers said the award seeks to spotlight individuals whose leadership has helped safeguard primary forests while strengthening the rights and resilience of the communities that depend on them.

“Today we recognise six of these leaders, several of whom the GEF has had the privilege of working alongside in their territories. Their leadership offers important lessons, and we look forward to continuing to learn from it across all our work,” said Diego Mesa, Chief Executive Officer of the Global Environment Facility, during the award ceremony.

The recognition also reflects growing scientific evidence linking Indigenous stewardship with successful conservation outcomes.

“Evidence has shown that securing Indigenous Peoples’ land rights and recognising and respecting traditional knowledge are among the most effective ways to protect forests and biodiversity. Yet Indigenous-led conservation is about more than environmental results; it is about recognising rights, upholding dignity and delivering justice,” said Grethel Aguilar, Director General of IUCN.

Farming, Forests and Cultural Knowledge

For Maimuna Jawara of The Gambia, environmental stewardship begins with everyday life.

Jawara, one of the award recipients from Banjul, is the founder of 1802lab, a research and design laboratory exploring the connections between cultural identity, ecological knowledge and sustainable futures for African fashion. Yet the role she identifies with most deeply is that of a farmer and community agroecology educator.

Growing up in a farming family, Jawara learned to read the seasons, save seeds and care for the soil from an early age. Living close to nature, she came to see environmental stewardship not as a profession but as a way of life.

“As I got older, I realised that agroecology is just remembering how to live in harmony with nature,” Jawara said.

Earlier this year, she was named a Transformative Partnership Platform (TPP) Agroecology Ambassador.

Jawara’s recognition comes at a difficult moment for her country. The Gambia no longer has any primary forests. Studies have attributed their disappearance to fuelwood collection, land clearing for livestock, hunting and advancing desertification.

While the government has enacted laws promoting sustainable natural resource management, implementation remains challenging because of limited financial and human resources. Conservation regulations are also often poorly understood by rural communities.

Yet there are signs of hope. According to Food and Agriculture Organization (FAO) figures, forest cover in The Gambia has increased in recent years through plantations and community-led restoration efforts.

For Jawara, the award is both an honour and a responsibility.

“I hope to amplify voices from the ground and contribute to a transition that is not only ecological but also socially just, inclusive, and rooted in dignity,” she said.

Protecting Ancestral Forests

Another recipient, Herkulanus Sutomo Manna of West Kalimantan, Indonesia, represents the Dayak Iban Menua Sungai Utik Indigenous community, which has gained international recognition for protecting its ancestral forests.

For Herkulanus, protecting forests is inseparable from protecting Indigenous identity, culture and livelihoods.

The community’s struggle dates back to 1998, when it initiated participatory mapping efforts in response to increasing threats from illegal logging. Those efforts helped document customary lands and strengthened the community’s ability to defend its territory from encroachment.

Over time, the initiative became an important example of how Indigenous communities can use traditional knowledge, customary governance and local leadership to conserve forests while maintaining cultural continuity.

Receiving the award at COP17, Herkulanus emphasised that the recognition belonged not only to him but to the broader Indigenous movement. He urged Indigenous communities around the world to continue protecting and managing their ancestral territories, stressing that safeguarding forests today is essential for the survival and well-being of future generations.

Indigenous Voices Across Continents

Among the award recipients was Puyr dos Santos Tembé of Brazil, a leader from the Tembé People and the Alto Rio Guamá Indigenous Territory in the Brazilian Amazon.

Tembé’s work supports ecosystem restoration through native species, community seed collection, agroforestry initiatives and sustainable livelihoods connected to standing forests.

Unlike many Indigenous leaders, she has also developed a strong social media presence and uses digital communication platforms to raise awareness about Indigenous peoples, their cultures and their rights among broader audiences.

Pirawan Wongnithisathaporn is a Karen Indigenous leader who works through the Asia Indigenous Peoples Pact (AIPP), a regional network representing Indigenous communities, including those displaced from their ancestral lands and living in exile.

She serves as a bridge between these communities and regional and global biodiversity and climate negotiations, advocating for Indigenous rights, community forestry, environmental governance and more.

Other recipients included Joseph Itongwa Miukumo of the Democratic Republic of the Congo, a leading advocate for Indigenous and community-conserved territories, and Peru’s Julio Cusurichi Palacios, whose work has advanced forest protection and Indigenous participation in national decision-making.

Recognition Amid Continuing Frustrations

While the awards were welcomed as an important recognition of Indigenous leadership, they also highlighted a wider debate unfolding at COP17 over the place of Indigenous peoples within biodiversity governance.

Many Indigenous representatives attending the conference point out that, despite repeated commitments from governments and international institutions, Indigenous communities remain excluded from many key decisions affecting their territories and livelihoods.

That frustration has surfaced repeatedly during discussions around implementation of the Kunming-Montreal Global Biodiversity Framework.

At COP16 in Colombia, parties agreed to establish a permanent body for Indigenous Peoples and Local Communities to help ensure their effective inclusion across all aspects of the framework’s implementation. The decision was widely hailed as a breakthrough for Indigenous participation.

Two years later, however, many delegates argue that progress has been slow.

IPLC representatives say they continue to face exclusion from decision-making processes at local, sub-national and national levels. Concerns have also intensified around the implementation of the framework’s flagship 30×30 target, which seeks to conserve 30 percent of the world’s lands and waters by 2030.

Many Indigenous organisations argue that their rights over traditional territories are still not being adequately respected as governments pursue conservation commitments.

The debate raises a broader question: can recognition of individual Indigenous leaders help shift political realities on the ground?

For some participants, initiatives such as the Indigenous Peoples Ambassadors for Primary Forests programme could help bring greater visibility to Indigenous leadership and strengthen advocacy for rights-based conservation. Others caution that recognition alone will not address the structural barriers that continue to limit Indigenous participation in decision-making.

“Announcing the new cohort of Indigenous Peoples Ambassadors for Primary Forests is only the beginning. We will continue to partner with and elevate the ambassadors and their communities,” said Paula Prist, Senior Programme Coordinator at IUCN.

IPS UN Bureau Report

Credit: Liv Arnesen

By Liv Arnesen
OSLO, Norway, Oct 28 2026 (IPS)

A global boycott of Antarctic krill products is gathering support. As a Norwegian, I want my country – the world’s largest krill-fishing nation – to change course when it comes to protecting Antarctica.

Scientists, explorers and ocean advocates are urging consumers to stop buying supplements and pet food containing Antarctic krill and to avoid farmed fish raised on feed containing it. This follows earlier moves by retailers – from Holland & Barrett in Britain to dm-drogerie markt in Germany and supermarket giants Woolworths and Coles in Australia – to remove krill supplements from their shelves.

I hope my government is listening. This boycott is highlighting a little-known industry and putting pressure on governments that support it. From 19 October, the 27 members of CCAMLR – the international commission responsible for conserving Antarctic marine life – will gather in Hobart, Australia, to negotiate fishing rules and marine protection for the last pristine place on our planet. Norway’s choices will matter far beyond our borders.

Liv Arnesen

Antarctica taught me what it means to live on nature’s terms. Its vastness felt almost timeless. But as I have returned as a guide and lecturer, and paddled through its waters, my sense of its permanence has given way to concern. Human activity is changing this remote place. What once seemed beyond our reach is increasingly exposed to our appetite for resources.

Among those is krill: small, shrimp-like animals that sustain whales, penguins, seals and seabirds. Yet we harvest krill for supplements, pet food and aquaculture feed while climate change alters the conditions on which the ecosystem depends.

This month, scientists reported that the chinstrap penguin population on Zavodovski Island has declined by almost two-thirds since 2011, as warming waters are changing the availability of krill, their main food source. This raises an urgent question: how can we justify expanding industrial fishing when the ecosystem it depends on is changing so profoundly?

As the largest Antarctic krill-fishing nation, Norway cannot continue to claim leadership in ocean protection while treating the needs of Antarctic wildlife as secondary to commercial expansion.

For two consecutive seasons, the krill fleet has reached the 620,000-tonne catch threshold months before the season’s end, forcing an early closure. This is not evidence that governance is working. That total catch figure masks how heavily the fishing became concentrated in feeding grounds for whales, penguins and seals after regional limitations expired in 2024.

Krill may be abundant across a vast ocean, but wildlife needs its food where it can reach it. A penguin feeding chicks must return repeatedly to its colony. Krill hundreds of kilometres away cannot replace food removed from nearby waters. Fisheries management must account for those local needs.

CCAMLR decisions require consensus among all 27 members. Norway cannot secure an agreement alone, but the Norwegian government must use its influence to push for stronger protection. It must support a moratorium on Antarctic krill fishing until binding, science-based rules protect vital wildlife feeding grounds. Fishing should resume only when up-to-date evidence shows it will not harm the ecosystem.

Protected areas need effective restrictions that safeguard habitats and wildlife in the long term. Norway must support all the proposed marine protected areas – around the Antarctic Peninsula, East Antarctica and the Weddell Sea – and work to secure their adoption. These areas must provide meaningful, lasting protection, without making it conditional on permission to catch even more krill elsewhere. China and Russia must stop blocking their adoption.

The Norwegian krill industry says it supports marine protection and better fisheries management. That commitment should include accepting a moratorium. But we should also ask: why do Norwegian companies continue taking this food source from Antarctica at all? Algae-based sources of the omega-3s used in supplements already exist. A moratorium is the immediate priority. In the longer term, governments and businesses should invest in alternatives, and plan a phase-out of commercial krill fishing.

Norway’s krill industry is closely tied to one of the country’s wealthiest billionaires. Our government must explain whose interests it is defending: private businesses or one of Earth’s last great wildernesses?

I have carried Norway’s flag across Antarctica. I want our delegation to carry a clear commitment to its protection into Hobart: support a moratorium on commercial krill fishing, secure meaningful protected areas and reject higher catches.

The world is watching. Norway should give it a reason to believe that protection can still prevail over profit.

Liv Arnesen is Norwegian polar explorer, educator and ambassador for Our Antarctica

IPS UN Bureau

Farwiza Farhan speaks about saving the Leuser Ecosystem at a Global Tipping Points Conference 2026. Credit: Zofeen Ebrahim/IPS

By Zofeen Ebrahim
KUALA LUMPUR, Oct 28 2026 (IPS)

Forty-year-old Farwiza Farhan’s eyes light up instantly when she talks about the Leuser Ecosystem – a national strategic area encompassing a national park, a wildlife reserve, protected forests and other land uses.

“It’s rare to have such a large landscape remain intact despite continuous encroachment by developers, which is shrinking the habitat of the tiger, the elephant, the rhino and the orangutan,” she says. At 2.7 million hectares, Leuser remains a rare stronghold for wildlife in a country where many forests have been decimated. “Leuser still stands, and the wildlife thrives there,” she says with a certain pride. “This is why the landscape is so incredibly special,” she says.

Farhan, a Sumatran forest conservator who heads Forest, Nature & Empowerment Aceh (HAkA), spoke to IPS on the sidelines of the Global Tipping Points Conference 2026, held at Sunway University, Kuala Lumpur, from October 12 to15. HAkA works to protect and restore the Leuser through conservation campaigns and meaningful community participation.

“If we don’t pay heed, we will push these animals closer to extinction,” she warned. “There are fewer than 250 tigers and maybe just 100 rhinos left.”

Corporations are shrinking wildlife habitats, says Farhan, pointing to large-scale gold mining and palm oil plantations, some spanning up to 10,000 hectares. “They’re located next to one another and compete for more space than anyone could ever,” she explained.

But wildlife is not the only thing losing space. According to Farhan, 500,000 people live within the ecosystem, and five million live outside it. Their lives are closely tied to the forest, which they use sparingly – consuming what they grow, unlike mining companies and corporations that extract resources on a large scale.

“Many concessions are located near towns and transport routes, making it easier to move commodities. But when forests are cleared, downstream communities bear the consequences, while upstream communities lose access to their land. Palm oil companies often take over land outside protected areas and push the communities living there further away,” said Farhan.

The costs of forest destruction, however, extend beyond the loss of wildlife. Women in communities that depend on the forest often bear a disproportionate burden.

“They are not scared of big multinational companies; they are truly militant in the way they respond to corporations they know will take away their land and forests. They feel the companies will slowly destroy their lives, so they might as well die fighting to stop them from bulldozing their village,” she said.

Farhan saw how women responded when disaster struck last year.

“Disasters force people to relocate, and that’s when women face immediate security concerns. In crowded camps, they may lack safe access to water and sanitation, and their privacy is often compromised. Yet they continue to shoulder the bulk of care work — looking after children and the elderly — while often losing their livelihoods and income.”

She says she has “massive respect and appreciation” for these women.

Sadly, these same women, who have a deep connection with the forest, are often excluded from policy-making forums where their voices matter most, she said.

Orangutan and infant. Credit: Anton Leddin/Wikimedia

She witnessed their knowledge and role in decision-making during Aceh’s catastrophic floods and landslides last November, triggered by torrential rains. “They understood local realities and were the first to mobilise and respond,” she pointed out.

And while many people see women huddled together as gossiping, Farhan playfully calls it “stakeholder mapping”.

“They know who’s doing what, which community members have betrayed them by taking bribes from corporations, and they know exactly what to do when that happens. Elderly women are the best: they have wisdom and respect, and they’ve seen it all before. They are the ones who hold the fort for their communities. Sometimes, an elderly woman will approach a young man engaged in illegal logging and ask, ‘Whose son are you?’ The question carries enormous weight.”

Working with communities has humbled Farhan.

“Our education taught us to speak in certain way, but not to listen. I think we need to invest more time in really listening to communities. We feel that because we are educated, we are there to educate, but in reality, the local people know and understand their problems and have the solutions.”

Spending a day alone in a village was all it took for her to realise how out of her depth she was. “Being left alone in the forest made me realise how quickly I could get lost without appropriate tools.”

Although her ancestry is Acehnese, she is uncomfortable identifying herself as indigenous because she and her family have not experienced the discrimination and lack of opportunities faced by indigenous communities.

“I can’t say that I shared those experiences directly,” she says, acknowledging that her education has given her privileges others have not had. “Identity-wise, I’m confused.”

Yet, she says, she understands their struggle and stands with them. However, she would not use that ‘Indigeneity’ card to gain access to funding and opportunities meant to expand opportunities for Indigenous peoples, as it is “unfair to the people who are actually going through the struggles and working hard to get the opportunities.”

A marine biologist by qualification, she also enrolled in a PhD programme in anthropology, which she later gave up. “I built the organisation while I was doing my PhD, but it died in the process,” she admits. “The work to protect forests was a lot more interesting,” she says with a smile.

But forests were not always her focus. By her own admission, her initial motivation was to protect the ocean because of her love for the underwater world.

Her degree in marine biology helped her understand ocean ecosystems better. She returned to the place where she had first fallen in love with the ocean, only to find it destroyed.

“In 2007, in a remote part of Aceh, Pulau Weh, I saw for the first time how El Niño had devastated an entire coral reef. I felt powerless,” she recalls. Realising how little she could do as an individual, she turned her attention to the forests. “Maybe protecting forests would be easier,” she thought.

But that was easier said than done. When she was hired to work for the government’s forest agency and the Leuser Ecosystem Management Authority, she accepted the offer without asking about the salary or her job description.

“I just wanted to work in conservation. I thought I’d be running around under the canopy of trees, going on patrol and watching wildlife. It turned out to be anything but that. I was stuck behind a desk with a computer in front!”

The job turned out to be in public relations. She was the spokesperson but rarely got the opportunity to speak.

“It was a very confusing place; I got sent to meetings to speak about forest allocations, spatial planning, environmental impact assessments…things I did not learn at university, things I was not equipped to deal with.”

Fate had other plans. All these experiences helped her understand power imbalances and conflicting interests. She also saw firsthand how people tasked with protecting forests could end up destroying them.

She stayed on until the government agency was shut down after its efforts to stop powerful interests from destroying forests met with opposition. She then joined her “stubborn and persistent” colleagues to help find HAkA.

She recalls countless half cups of coffee at cafés, bought because they could barely afford more, as they used the cafés’ Wi-Fi to brainstorm.

“We were not going to give up on protecting the Leuser ecosystem,” she said.

In 2011, Farhan and her organisation were among the environmental campaigners who challenged the government in court over its decision to grant concession to a palm oil company, in Aceh’s Rawa Tripa peat swamp forest (also in Leuser), despite a two-year nationwide moratorium on new concessions having been imposed three months earlier.

PT Kallista Alam, the company, pursued a series of appeals all the way up to the Supreme Court. In 2013, the apex court rejected the appeal and ruled in favour of the community. Yet it took until 2015 for the company’s USD 26.5 million fine to be upheld, and a decade for the company to pay the fine for the environmental damage caused by using fire to clear ten square kilometres of land.

“The company has paid part of the fine to the Ministry of Finance but not to the community,” said Farhan, a campaigner who witnessed the fire.

But she added many actors contributed to the victory, including people who trained judges and attorneys to better understand what it meant to quantify environmental loss in economic terms.

“Judges don’t come from biology or ecology backgrounds,” she said, explaining that judges in Indonesia undergo environmental training to understand that burning forests and replacing them with monoculture plantations is not reforestation.

Farhan’s work is far from over. As long as the extractive economy persists, the threats will remain. If it isn’t palm oil plantations, it will be gold mining or attempts to redraw boundaries.

Her organisation challenges these threats through legal action, spatial planning and, at times, by helping the government evaluate permits across districts and landscapes.

“There are times when government decisions need to be criticised and challenged, and we do that,” she said.

IPS UN Bureau Report

Manvel Arzumanyan, retired veterinarian, says animal movements have been impacted by the conflict. Credit: Stella Paul/IPS

By Stella Paul
YEREVAN and SHIKAHOGH STATE RESERVE, Armenia, Oct 26 2026 (IPS)

Less than 100 metres from military positions facing each other across the Armenia-Azerbaijan border, the forest suddenly disappears.

On 22 October, I travelled to Shikahogh State Reserve, a biodiversity hotspot in southern Armenia near the Azerbaijan border. At one point I stood less than 100 metres from military positions facing each other across the frontier. Looking across the landscape, what struck me most was not the presence of soldiers but the absence of trees.

Large patches of hillside were barren, interrupting what should have been continuous forest cover. From several points inside the reserve, stretches of land appeared stripped of vegetation. Armenian military positions and Azerbaijani posts were visible across the landscape, reminders that one of the South Caucasus’ richest ecosystems now sits at the edge of a heavily militarised frontier.

The reserve, located in Armenia’s Syunik Province, was founded in 1958 and spans almost 30,000 acres, about 94 percent of which is forested.

It is home to rare animals such as the Caucasian leopard, the Bezoar ibex, the brown bear, the Armenian viper and numerous bird species. It also has 1,100 plant species (70 of which are listed in the IUCN Red Data Book) and is regarded by conservationists as one of the ecological jewels of the Caucasus.

Yet today, biodiversity is only part of the story.

Local Armenian officials, led by Marat Harutyunyan, Deputy Mayor of Kapan, the municipality closest to the reserve and the Azerbaijan border, said the environmental changes have become more visible since the 2022 fighting that affected parts of southern Armenia.

Harutyunyan alleged that Azerbaijani forces had cleared sections of forest for military positions and access roads. The full extent of this clearing has not been independently verified. Visible signs of tree cutting and earthworks could also be seen on the Armenian side near military installations, although officials declined to discuss their purpose or scale.

Vladik Agatelyan and Harut Marzynyan talk about the impacts of war on the locals’ livelihood and wildlife. Credit: Stella Paul/IPS

Competing Environmental Claims

While Armenian officials and local residents in Syunik have linked environmental changes in and around the Shikahogh State Reserve to militarisation and forest clearance, Azerbaijani environmental representatives argue that environmental concerns in the region extend beyond forest loss and should be viewed more broadly.

No Azerbaijani government officials were present at COP17 to respond directly to questions about conditions in Shikahogh. Azerbaijan is not participating in the conference. However, Amin Mammadov, co-founder of the Environmental Protection First (EPF) Coalition and Chairman of the Public Council under Azerbaijan’s Ministry of Ecology and Natural Resources, said Armenia was selectively drawing attention to environmental problems in the region.

Mammadov argued that while Armenian authorities focus on alleged deforestation and ecosystem damage in border areas, they have remained largely silent on what he described as pollution of transboundary rivers resulting from mining activities within Armenian territory.

Referring to a statement recently issued by the coalition, Mammadov said the group had called on the COP17 Presidency and participants in the Leaders’ Summit to encourage Armenia to adopt “concrete and measurable decisions” on the protection of transboundary rivers, improved management of mining operations, transparent environmental monitoring mechanisms, and public access to environmental information.

Another coalition member, Mugabil Bayramov, Chairman of the Azerbaijani Cartographers Public Union, said the group had prepared a Geographic Information Systems (GIS)-based digital map in 2024 titled Mineral Raw Materials Resources of the Republic of Armenia. According to Bayramov, the map identifies mineral deposits, mining enterprises and rivers allegedly affected by industrial pollutants.

The competing allegations highlight how environmental issues in the South Caucasus are increasingly intertwined with political tensions and unresolved disputes. Independent verification of many claims remains difficult because of restricted access, security concerns and the absence of comprehensive cross-border environmental monitoring.

Installations and clearing of a large tract of forests along the Armenia-Azerbaijan border at Shikahogh State Forest Reserve. Credit: Stella Paul/IPS

Livelihood Along a Militarised Border

Harutyunyan said Azerbaijani forces occupy several heights overlooking parts of the reserve and surrounding communities. According to him, that has changed how residents use the landscape.

“People are afraid to go to certain places,” he said, often due to the fear of landmines in parts of the border.

Vladik Agatelyan, a 60-year-old farmer, said a mine blast killed two of his cows. “The risks are too many, so I have stopped raising cattle,” he said. Some of his neighbours still do, but they no longer graze livestock closer to the forest.

Whether the danger is widespread or localised, fear itself appears to be creating a social and economic impact, as pastures are abandoned and traditional livelihoods are slowly disappearing. For example, Agatelyan’s wife, also a senior citizen, took up a job to teach in a village school as income from their farm declined.

“The salary is very small (100 dollars a month), but it helps us to get by,” he said.

A Wildlife Corridor Under Pressure

Among those concerned about the reserve’s future is Manvel Arzumanyan, a retired veterinarian in his seventies. For decades, he worked with livestock in the region and closely observed the surrounding landscape. He remembers a time when bears, wild goats and other species moved freely through the forests and mountains around the village. The area, he said, served as an important ecological corridor linking habitats across Armenia, Azerbaijan and Iran.

Today, such sightings appear less frequent.

Harut Marzynyan, a zoologist at Shikahogh State Reserve who oversees wildlife monitoring, echoed his observations. Marzynyan said the conflict has made fieldwork increasingly difficult, limiting researchers’ ability to track animal movement and conduct regular surveys.

He noted that expanding roads, military infrastructure and fragmented landscapes can disrupt wildlife corridors and isolate animal populations. However, the reserve has been unable to carry out comprehensive studies because of security concerns and restricted access linked to the conflict.

Evidence From Another Frontline

The concerns emerging from Shikahogh are difficult to quantify. But scientists studying other conflict zones say the patterns sound familiar.

George Mitri, Professor of Environmental Sciences at the University of Balamand in Lebanon, said the environmental footprint of the ongoing Israel-Hezbollah conflict extends far beyond areas directly affected by fighting. More than 11,000 hectares have been affected by conflict-related fires, while thousands more hectares have suffered damage from explosions, military activity and vegetation loss.

“The ecological impact of war on biodiversity is much broader than the area directly affected by bombing,” Mitri told IPS.

Similar concerns emerged during an interview with Jen Maman, Senior Policy and Campaign Strategist at Greenpeace, the international environmental campaigning organisation.

Drawing on Greenpeace assessments and partner research, Maman said at least 65,000 olive trees have been burned during recent hostilities in southern Lebanon.

She said environmental damage extends beyond forests to include agricultural land, water resources and soil quality.

Maman also highlighted concerns surrounding the use of white phosphorus, which can ignite vegetation and potentially leave pollutants in soils and water sources. Maman shared some investigations that found elevated concentrations of phosphorus and heavy metals in some affected areas of Lebanon, raising concerns about long-term environmental impacts.

According to Maman, the consequences extend well beyond biodiversity. Environmental destruction has affected agriculture, fisheries, livestock production and food security, illustrating how ecological damage can quickly become an economic and humanitarian crisis.

Restoring Nature After Conflict

According to Mitri, meaningful restoration is an urgent need and must begin with “systematic documentation through satellite imagery, photographs, field surveys and scientific assessments”. Those records are critical not only for understanding the scale of destruction but also for future accountability and recovery efforts.

“Restoration must involve a wide range of specialists, including ecologists, biodiversity experts, hydrologists, soil scientists and toxicologists, to understand habitat loss, contamination and ecosystem disruption,” he said.

Displaced residents often possess detailed knowledge of ecological changes occurring in their landscapes and can provide information that may not appear in scientific datasets.

“The community has to be re-established where they were,” Mitri said, arguing that environmental recovery and community recovery are inseparable.

COP17: The Missing Finance Conversation

Restoration, however, raises another question that remains largely absent from international biodiversity negotiations: who will pay for it?

Restoring conflict-damaged ecosystems can require substantial investments in mine clearance, soil remediation, habitat restoration, reforestation, biodiversity monitoring and support for affected communities.

Mitri argues that environmental assessments must eventually be linked to compensation mechanisms, recovery planning and international financial support if damaged landscapes are to have a realistic chance of recovery.

Yet despite growing evidence of environmental destruction caused by armed conflicts in Lebanon, Gaza, Ukraine and the South Caucasus, conflict-related ecosystem restoration remains largely absent from biodiversity finance discussions.

At COP17, governments are debating how to mobilise billions of dollars to implement the Kunming-Montreal Global Biodiversity Framework. But despite a packed COP agenda with 50 items, there is little discussion of dedicated funding mechanisms for ecosystems damaged by war or of how affected countries and communities should finance their recovery.

An Overlooked Threat to Biodiversity

At COP17, Astrid Schomaker, Executive Secretary of the Convention on Biological Diversity (CBD), declined to comment directly on the Armenia-Azerbaijan environmental dispute. However, during the conference’s opening ceremony, she stressed the broader significance of biodiversity loss.

“No nation, no economy, no society is immune from the impacts of biodiversity loss,” Astrid Schomaker told delegates. She also warned that “even the best decisions that you will take at this meeting will be meaningless if there is no capacity to implement, monitor, make informed decisions and manage risks.”

As negotiations enter their crucial second week, it remains unclear whether the environmental consequences of armed conflict and the challenge of restoring ecosystems affected by it will receive greater attention in biodiversity negotiations.

Yet for communities living along contested borders, the impacts are already visible. In Shikahogh, trees have disappeared from parts of the landscape, access to land has become more restricted, and residents describe livelihoods that are increasingly difficult to sustain.

For many conservationists, scientists and communities living in conflict-affected regions, the lesson emerging from Armenia, Lebanon and other frontlines is increasingly clear: biodiversity protection cannot be separated from the environmental costs of conflict.

IPS UN Bureau Report

Excerpt:

By External Source
Oct 22 2026 (IPS)

 
The world is getting hotter. And the consequences are already being felt.

From devastating floods and prolonged droughts to intensifying heatwaves, climate change is disrupting lives and livelihoods across the globe.

According to the World Meteorological Organization, the eleven years from 2015 to 2025 were the hottest ever recorded.

In 2025, global temperatures were approximately 1.43 degrees Celsius above pre-industrial levels.

And the human impact is growing.

UNICEF reports that more than 171 million students had their education disrupted by climate-related hazards in 2025.

Three-quarters of those affected lived in low- and lower-middle-income countries.

Now, a new United Nations Environment Programme report delivers another warning.

Its 2026 Emissions Gap Report concludes that temporarily exceeding the Paris Agreement’s 1.5-degree warming threshold is now unavoidable.

But how far temperatures rise, and for how long, still depends on decisions made today.

UNEP estimates that limiting this overshoot requires global greenhouse gas emissions to fall by 18 percent by 2030, and 45 percent by 2035, compared with 2025 levels.

Current national climate commitments fall far short.

Yet solutions exist.

Renewable energy, cleaner transport, energy efficiency and stronger climate policies can reduce emissions.

And investment in climate adaptation can help protect vulnerable communities from worsening impacts.

On October 24th, International Day of Climate Action draws attention to the urgent need for collective action.

The challenge is no longer simply to prevent warming.

It is to limit the damage, protect lives and build a more resilient future.

Because every fraction of a degree matters.

IPS UN Bureau

The Sámi, Europe's last recognised Indigenous community, continue to have their livelihood and lifestyle threatened. Credit: Johan Mikaelsson/IPS

By Johan Mikaelsson
SÁPMI, Norway, Oct 21 2026 (IPS)

The Sámi, Europe’s last recognised Indigenous community, have faced threats to their existence throughout history. Norway, in 2024, apologised for its forced assimilation policy following the findings of a Truth and Reconciliation Commission report, and in September 2026 Sweden has recently been told to do the same.

Despite the growing understanding of how their culture and economic livelihoods have been threatened, their precarious lifestyle is again under threat, ironically from something that is usually considered positive: the ‘green revolution’.

Kautokeino, in Norway’s far north, feels like a capital of Sápmi, the homeland of the Sámi people. The region is associated with the Scandinavian mountain range and the vast territories traversed by reindeer. Much of it lies above the Arctic Circle, stretching across Norway, Sweden, Finland and the Kola Peninsula in Russia.

In Kautokeino, 95 percent of the population are Sámi, and Northern Sámi is the main language. One in every two inhabitants owns reindeer. So does municipal council leader Anders S. Buljo, who once worked full-time in reindeer herding, a livelihood his son has since taken over.

“Right now, the reindeer are in the higher mountains closer to the coast and out on the islands,” Buljo explains, standing on a hilltop with a 360-degree view across the vast landscape.

In September, the reindeer move inland to their winter grazing grounds. The Sámi were once nomadic, following the reindeer’s seasonal movements across the landscape. Reindeer herding remains deeply intertwined with Sámi culture, and both reindeer-herding Sámi and those who rely on hunting and fishing maintain a strong connection to nature.

Beyond the houses clustered in the settlement, the landscape is largely untouched: tens of kilometres of tundra and rolling hills dotted with low trees, marshes, lakes and flowing streams. Rounded, barren mountains stretch towards the horizon, where higher peaks remain covered in snow and ice throughout the year.

The reindeer were once wild, hunted by the Sámi with bows and arrows and spears. Traces of trapping pits, used for thousands of years, can still be found in the terrain.

Over time, the Sámi began gathering reindeer into herds at certain times of the year, separating them and slaughtering selected animals. As the Sámi were brought under state administration, Sámi reindeer-herding communities were established. Each has hundreds or thousands of reindeer, yet the obstacles facing the livelihood continue to mount.

“Wind power, mines and holiday villages are taking up more and more space. At least here, tourism is manageable, as there are no large ski resorts,” says Buljo.

Forestry, agriculture, mining, construction, hydropower, snowmobile trails, ski-lift systems and a growing network of roads and railways are increasingly affecting Sápmi. Helicopters ferry hunters and skiers into the mountains, and skiing from mountain peaks by helicopter is permitted in Sweden.

“It is incredible how little people know about the Sámi and Indigenous peoples, especially further south. We need to build understanding,” Buljo says.

The wind farm at Fosen is a telling example. In 2021, Norway’s Supreme Court ruled that the wind turbines built there were illegal because they infringed on the reindeer herders’ right to practise their culture.

“They build first and ask questions afterwards. The courts established that it was a human rights violation. But the wind turbines are still there,” Buljo says.

Like Indigenous peoples across the Americas, nation states forcibly displaced the Sámi through violence and legislation.

“This continued into the 1970s. We see similar tendencies even today, as the Fosen case shows.”

Anything associated with the “green transition” is often presented as inherently positive. Yet beneath the rhetoric lie the economic interests of states and corporations.

“How green is the transition, really? When the last ore has been extracted from the mountains and the last peak has been fitted with a wind turbine, there will be no reason to stay,” Buljo says.

His municipality can nevertheless influence the direction of development and, for example, prevent mines from opening.

“In 2019, the Supreme Court recognised reindeer husbandry as a traditional use of the land, improving its legal position. And we have come a little further in Norway than in Sweden and Finland.”

In 1979, Karesuando in Sweden’s far north hosted the Davvi Suvva festival, which brought together Indigenous people from around the world. In the opening speech, preserved in the documentary We Are All Brothers and Sisters, Oula Näkkäläjärvi, spokesperson for the Sámi, said:

“We, Indigenous people, have one thing in common: we want to live in harmony with nature, and we can.”

That conviction remains. Yet technological progress and economic growth are transforming lives everywhere, with profound consequences for Indigenous peoples. The price of “development” is an escalating climate crisis. Above the Arctic Circle, the changes are increasingly visible: milder winters, warmer summers and shrinking glaciers. Flora and fauna are being affected in front of us.

Norway and Denmark are among the 24 countries that have ratified the International Labour Organization’s Indigenous and Tribal Peoples Convention, 1989 (No. 169). Neither Sweden nor Finland has signed this key instrument for the protection of Indigenous rights.

The genocide of Indigenous peoples in North America began with colonisation and continued well into the 20th century. Neither the United States nor Canada has ratified ILO Convention 169. In the Nordic countries, the Sámi did not put up armed resistance. Living dispersed across the region, they were gradually pushed off lands they had inhabited for millennia.

In Norway, a Truth and Reconciliation Commission worked from 2018 to 2023. Alongside an official apology to the Sámi people, concrete measures have been taken. Finland’s Sámi Truth and Reconciliation Commission published its report in December 2025. In Sweden, the Truth Commission for the Sami People presented its report on 30 September 2026.

The auditorium at Mid Sweden University in Östersund was filled. Hundreds of Sámi had travelled from across Sápmi to witness a historic moment, one that many hoped would mark the beginning of something new.

“Sweden’s assimilation policy has been very successful,” says Marja-Kristin Skum, her remark edged with irony.

Skum is Sámi, a reindeer owner, teacher and language researcher at the Sámi University of Applied Sciences in Kautokeino. As part of the Truth Commission’s work, she interviewed people willing to share their experiences. Most were between 60 and 70 years old, but even children gave testimony. The accounts leave little doubt that state policies have left deep scars.

“Here is the truth. But what does reconciliation look like? This is not just about us Sámi. The majority population and the state also have work to do. How are we to repair all the damage that has been done? This wound has never healed,” Skum says.

Although policies in Norway, Finland and Sweden have differed, the three countries face many of the same questions about their past and present. Liv Inger Somby, rector of the Sámi University of Applied Sciences in Kautokeino, travelled more than 1,000 kilometres to Östersund to attend the presentation of the Swedish report, which calls for “an official apology, compensation, and national redress for historical injustices.”

“Of course, what is happening in Sweden is being followed in Norway, too. We essentially have no borders in Sápmi, and we need to keep working across national boundaries. It is very important that we stand strong together,” Somby says.

From the 18th century onwards, farmers from southern Sweden were granted land in the north, where timber, silver, iron ore, gold and other natural resources awaited exploitation. From the 1950s onwards, numerous hydropower plants with huge dams were built, submerging large areas of land under water.

Well into the 20th century, the Sámi were prevented from speaking their own language and forbidden to practise their religion and spirituality, both deeply intertwined with nature and the landscape. In the 2020s, Sámi culture is experiencing what some describe as a “boom”, with growing visibility in film, literature and music and recognition in the cultural sphere.

Ol-Ánte Sikku, chairman of The Gaaltije Foundation, a South Sami cultural centre and museum in Östersund, reflects on what comes next.

“A truth commission cannot be repeated, and its report cannot simply be put on a shelf. Something has to come of it. If it does not happen now, it never will,” he says. Sikku also notes that the political and social climate has become harsher since the commission began its work.

“With mining and resource exploitation, the ‘green transition’, defence, rearmament and space initiatives, Sámi interests can be seen as obstacles.”

When political leaders suggest, implicitly or explicitly, that the Sámi are standing in the way of development, they fuel hostility.

Whether Sweden’s Truth Commission will lead to concrete action remains to be seen. Its report now passes into the hands of a new government. Sweden held a parliamentary election on 13 September, but negotiations to form a government may take time.

A possible left-green-centre coalition is expected to place greater emphasis on environmental protection than the outgoing right-wing government. Economic interests, however, continue to carry considerable weight.

The pressure on Sápmi is intense. Proposals and applications range from extensions to ski-lift systems to large wind farms and mines. Even foreign companies can obtain permits for test drilling. Sweden is often described as a country covered in forest, but 90 percent is managed land, planted with spruce or pine and harvested after 80–120 years.

There is a Sámi saying: “If the Sámi take care of the reindeer, the reindeer take care of the Sámi.”

Today, this relationship involves far more than the practical work of herding. For Sámi reindeer-herding communities, it also means a constant struggle through legal and administrative processes, with documents to read, prepare and respond to.

The recently approved establishment of another mine near Kiruna is a case in point. The project will affect the Gabna Sámi reindeer-herding community, once again restricting the reindeer’s ability to move freely through the landscape.

IPS UN Bureau Report

When you grow up on a small island, the ocean is not scenery. It is your neighbour, your livelihood, and the measure of time itself. For decades, as I walked the beaches of Seychelles, I watched the subtle shifts that scientists were warning the world about. The tide crept a little higher up the sand each year. After a warm season, vibrant coral gardens turned ghost-white. Storms that once belonged to rare memory began arriving with unsettling regularity.

James Alix Michel

No one can afford that illusion anymore.

What began on our island shores has arrived at the heart of every continent. The floods that submerge towns, the relentless heatwaves across Asia and the Americas, the droughts parching African farmlands, and the wildfires darkening the skies of the northern hemisphere all tell the exact same story. Small islands were never a separate case; we were simply the planet’s early warning system. Today, the alarm bell is ringing in every home. No nation, however vast its territory or deep its treasury, can build a wall high enough to shut out a warming world.

Next month, from 9 to 20 November, world leaders and negotiators will gather on the Mediterranean coast in Antalya, Türkiye, for the 31st United Nations Climate Change Conference (COP31). The summit carries an unusual and promising diplomatic architecture: Türkiye will host the gathering and hold the Presidency, while Australia leads the negotiations, fresh from partnering with Fiji and Tuvalu to host the Pre-COP meetings in the Pacific. Having Pacific island voices help shape the road to Antalya is a welcome sign.

Yet as the countdown begins, the overarching question hanging over COP31 is not whether the world can draft another eloquent communiqué. It is a much simpler, sharper question: will we finally keep our promises?

Türkiye’s Presidency has rightly framed Antalya as an “Implementation COP”. That label must mean something in practice, because the global climate process is facing a profound test of trust. Across the Global South, and especially among small islands and least developed countries, there is a deep and justified fatigue. Summit after summit produces historic pledges—on cutting emissions, on adaptation funds, on compensating for loss and damage—only for those commitments to stall in a maze of bureaucracy and broken timelines.

Trust in international diplomacy is not built by the grandeur of a pledge made before television cameras. It is built when resources actually reach the fishing village rebuilding its sea wall, or the farmer adapting to shifting rains. If Antalya is to restore faith in multilateralism, three imperatives must guide the leaders gathering there on 11 and 12 November.

First, climate finance must move from paper to people. For too many vulnerable countries, accessing climate funds feels like running an obstacle course designed for them to fail. Initiatives like the new Climate Implementation Bridge—developed by the Presidency and the UN Development Programme to connect national climate plans with real financing—are a step in the right direction. But we need speed, simplicity, and scale. Adaptation and loss and damage funding are not acts of charity from the rich to the poor; they are investments in global stability.

Second, we cannot talk honestly about climate resilience without confronting the crushing burden of sovereign debt. It is a cruel paradox of our time that the nations which contributed least to global emissions are forced to borrow heavily just to rebuild after climate disasters they did not cause. How can a government invest in a green transition or coastal defences when its revenues are swallowed by debt servicing?

We already know that innovative solutions exist when there is political courage. In Seychelles, we pioneered the world’s first sovereign debt-for-nature swap designed for ocean conservation, alongside the world’s first sovereign Blue Bond. We showed that you can relieve fiscal pressure while legally protecting vast stretches of marine territory. What small islands proved on a modest scale must now become a standard tool of the international financial system.

Third, the ocean must move from the margins of climate negotiations to the very centre. For too long, the ocean was treated as a silent victim of climate change rather than our greatest ally in stopping it. The sea covers more than 70 percent of our planet, absorbs the vast majority of excess heat, and locks away immense quantities of carbon in its mangroves, seagrass meadows, and marine ecosystems.

COP31 has dedicated a thematic day on 18 November to oceans, coastal resilience, and the blue economy. That is encouraging, but the ocean cannot be confined to a single day on the calendar. Protecting marine biodiversity, unlocking blue carbon finance, and connecting the UNFCCC process with the new High Seas Treaty (BBNJ) are essential if we want to keep the 1.5-degree goal alive.

During my years in public life, and in the years since, I have learned that leadership is ultimately tested when the gap between words and reality grows too wide to ignore. We are at that moment now.

In Antalya, small island states will once again raise their voices with clarity and determination. We will speak of our reefs, our coastlines, and our children’s heritage. But make no mistake: we are not pleading only for ourselves. The ocean that washes the shores of islands is the same ocean that regulates the climate of London, Istanbul, Sydney, and New York.

The tide is rising for all of us. COP31 is our chance to show that humanity can rise to meet it—not with another round of promises, but with the courage to deliver.

James Alix Michel is a former President of Seychelles, a Blue Economy pioneer and a champion of ocean protection.

IPS UN Bureau

Singer-songwriter Yusuf ‘Cat Stevens’ Islam speaks during the closing session of the Global Tipping Points Conference in Kuala Lumpur. Credit: Zofeen T. Ebrahim

By Zofeen Ebrahim
KUALA LUMPUR, Oct 16 2026 (IPS)

With the city enveloped in a cloak of haze, the urgency of tackling the climate crisis could hardly have been clearer as the four-day Global Tipping Points Conference 2026 drew to a close at Malaysia’s Sunway University on Thursday.

At the conference, speakers stressed the need for humanity to remain within planetary boundaries, or the “safe operating space”.

Crossing these boundaries could have catastrophic consequences, warned Professor Johan Rockström, director of the Potsdam Institute for Climate Impact Research and one of the conference organisers.

He highlighted the dangers of triggering irreversible changes in major Earth systems. Some of the bulwarks have already been breached, manifesting themselves in the form of collapsed ice sheets, bleached corals, shrinking wildlife habitats and the slow death of rainforests.

Dong Wang’s park in Bangkok. Credit: Zofeen T. Ebrahim

‘Tipping points’ conference brings together climate scientists, activists, and finance gurus; highlights success stories from around the world

All of this threatens food security, causes displacement, damages human health and destabilises economies.

With plenty of reasons to be pessimistic – social and political polarisation, rising inequality and poverty, and wars among them – the message was nevertheless one of urgency rather than despair. “The science has matured, evidence is there… it is time for action… that’s the natural step,” said Sultan Nazrin Shah of Perak.

But there is another side to the tipping-point story.

Professor Timothy Lenton, chair of Climate Change and Earth System Science at the University of Exeter and one of the organisers, spoke about “positive tipping points.” Lenton, who has studied tipping points since the 1990s, argued these could help societies move towards more sustainable futures. Citing Pakistan’s solar boom and Norway’s rapid adoption of electric vehicles, he pointed to transformative shifts that can happen within a relatively short period.

But protecting ecosystems is as important as technologies, said Acehnese forest conservator Farwiza Farhan, while making a compelling case for the protection of the Leuser Ecosystem – a tropical rainforest reserve in Sumatra and one of the last places on Earth where tigers, elephants, rhinos and orangutans coexist in the wild.

Others turned to imagining the future. Anab Jain, co-founder of London-based Superflux, described Mitigation of Shock, an immersive installation set in a fictional 2050. Visitors enter an imagined apartment shaped by a future in which some of the most severe impacts of climate change have already occurred. More than 100,000 people have visited it since 2017, she said.

Professor Jeffrey Sachs, director of the Center for Sustainable Development at Columbia University, broadened the discussion to social, economic and political tipping points. If these systems tipped in the wrong direction, he warned, they could trigger a “cascade of devastating consequences.”

Planetary changes and social, economic and political conditions are deeply interconnected, said Sachs, making cooperation essential to averting disaster. He repeatedly pointed to poverty and inequality as forces that could deepen instability but argued that all was not lost. The tools for change – economic wellbeing, social inclusion, environmental sustainability, and peace and cooperation among nations – already exist, he said.

Discussions also covered deforestation, land-use change, governance failures and the rise of artificial intelligence. Turning tools into action, however, requires money, policy and political will.

“But where’s the money?” many asked, urging encouragement for supportive policies and a pipeline of “bankable projects” that protect nature, so that economic incentives favour regeneration over extraction. One such approach came from Dr Ralph Chami, founder of Blue Green Future, who outlined his concept of “regenerative GDP”, i.e. recognising the value of “living nature” and accounting for it on the balance sheet.

Timothy Lenton explaining the positive tipping points. Credit: Zofeen T. Ebrahim

“Why kill the goose that lays the [golden] egg?” he asked, contrasting a living coral reef in the Maldives – which provides a habitat for fish and plays a role in the marine carbon cycle – with a bleached one that can threaten both tourism and fisheries.

But money and markets are only part of the equation. Dr Jemilah Mahmood, executive director of the Centre for Planetary Health at Sunway University, insisted on channelling youth energy. “Give them space at policy [discussions], send them to COPs not as tokenism, but let them negotiate. It’s their future,” she said.

As an example of what young people can achieve, Mahmood pointed to Pacific Island law students whose campaign helped bring climate change and human rights before the International Court of Justice (ICJ). Their efforts contributed to a landmark advisory opinion in July 2025, clarifying states’ legal obligations on climate change. Climate litigation and the role of legal action in holding governments accountable also featured in the wider conversation.

The highlight of the conference was definitely the success stories from around the world that offered the most tangible hope.

For example, Chinese urban planner Dong Wang, who specialises in sponge cities and ecological planning, shared a low-cost, low-maintenance and replicable project in the heart of Bangkok – the transformation of a former tobacco factory into the 102-acre Benjakitti Forest Park, to which more than 200 bird species have since returned.

Eva Gladek of Metabolic, who spoke about NetZeroCities, showed how 17 old houseboats in Amsterdam were retrofitted with clean technologies and transformed into energy-efficient offices and workspaces.

Mumbai-based Sheela Patel, director of the Society for the Promotion of Area Resource Centres, drew on five decades of work with people living in informal settlements to highlight another kind of urban resilience. Through the ‘Roof Over Our Heads’ campaign, women supported by young professionals are helping make homes more resilient to rain, strong winds and extreme heat.

And these efforts are not simply one-off experiments. Patel said the work has been documented and shared, with more than 100 labs established across 20 countries to help communities test and replicate solutions. Gladek, meanwhile, is helping 100 European cities work towards climate neutrality.

The thought-provoking conference had opened on a note of faith, with Sultan Nazrin Shah speaking of humanity’s responsibility to care for the planet, which he said “comes with privilege and obligation” but is “not a burden to be feared”.

It ended on a rather philosophical and spiritual note, with British singer-writer Yusuf ‘Cat Stevens’ Islam urging people to become the change rather than expecting the world to change. “Never stop being a child, as there is light in their eyes and they see hope,” he said, also stressing the need to bring spirituality into education. “Look how the curriculum has been colonised.”

For positive tipping points to hold, science alone will not be enough, concluded Mahmood. It will also need the voices of those whose futures are at stake.

Note: Published with the permission of Dawn.

IPS UN Bureau Report

Woodlands in nearly every forested country face threats from climate-change-driven fires and deforestation pressures fueled by economic interests exploiting natural resources. Credit: Imran Schah/IPS

By Stephanie Dowlen
MALMO, Sweden, Oct 16 2026 (IPS)

On Monday, governments from across the world will gather in Armenia for COP17, the UN biodiversity summit, to assess progress on the global agreement to halt and reverse biodiversity loss. For anyone who cares about the livability of our planet for future generations, and the richness of life on earth, the stakes could hardly be higher. Policy makers will debate targets, implementation, and the lack of money to protect nature, in particular the failure of developed countries to fulfil their obligations. But there is a more basic question that should put at the center of those discussions: what happens when the financial system governments are counting on to fund nature protection is also financing its destruction?

A new analysis by the Forests & Finance coalition provides an alarming answer. Since 2020, banks have provided $595 billion to companies operating in high-risk agribusiness and metal and mineral mining sectors across tropical forest regions. Of that, $351 billion went to agro-commodities and $244 billion to mining. These are among the primary industries driving deforestation, land degradation, pollution and conflicts with communities across the tropical forest regions of South America, Southeast Asia and Central and West Africa.

The significance of that figure goes beyond the amount of money involved. It exposes a fundamental weakness in the way the biodiversity crisis is being addressed. Governments have committed under the Kunming-Montreal Global Biodiversity Framework to aligning financial flows with biodiversity goals, yet financial institutions remain largely free to finance nature destruction as a risk to themselves rather than as harm they may in fact be helping to cause.

Nature-related risks are not like ordinary financial risks. A bank might assess how drought could affect a company’s revenues without adequately considering whether the company itself helped create that vulnerability by clearing forests, draining wetlands or degrading watersheds. By the time those consequences appear on a balance sheet, an ecosystem may already have crossed a threshold from which recovery is extremely difficult. The report finds that current financial risk frameworks and sustainability policies remain woefully ill-equipped to assess these real-world impacts.

The consequences are already visible in some of the world’s most important forest landscapes. In Brazil, banks have provided $83 billion to the soy sector since 2020, including $6.8 billion this year alone, despite the collapse in January of the Amazon Soy Moratorium, which had been credited with reducing soy-driven deforestation by 69 percent in monitored areas. The withdrawal of major exporters from the agreement removed a critical safeguard and traceability system keeping forests standing, yet banks have not publicly taken a position on its collapse.

Indonesia presents a similarly disturbing pattern. Banks have provided $67.1 billion to the country’s notoriously destructive pulp and palm oil sectors since 2020, including financing for companies associated with repeated breaches of their own commitments to avoid deforestation, peatland development and exploitation. Peat drainage and deforestation leave landscapes less able to retain water and resist fire, increasing the vulnerability of communities to climate extremes.

At the same time, the financial flows behind mining are growing rapidly. Governments and companies are scrambling to secure copper, lithium, nickel, cobalt and other minerals needed for energy technologies, while demand is also being driven by geopolitical competition and the expansion of artificial intelligence infrastructure. Financing for mining in tropical forest-rich countries increased 55 percent between 2016 and 2025, with lithium financing increasing more than elevenfold and nickel financing by 183 percent.

There is a danger in treating every new mine as part of a clean transition simply because its minerals may eventually be used in low-carbon technologies. Mining in tropical forest regions is associated with ecosystem destruction, pollution, land conflicts, violence and violations of Indigenous Peoples’ rights. A transition that sacrifices some of the world’s most biodiverse landscapes and the people who depend on them is not sustainable, whatever the end product.

What makes this particularly troubling is how little protection many banks actually require before providing this financing. The average score in the report’s assessment of bank policies covering forest-risk agro-commodities is only 25 percent, while 39 percent of banks assessed scored below 20 percent. JPMorgan Chase, one of the world’s largest and most influential banks, scored just 18 percent.

Voluntary commitments have done little to close this gap. Governments now need to establish binding rules requiring financial institutions to conduct meaningful environmental and human rights due diligence across corporate groups and supply chains, disclose where their money is going and what impacts that financing is associated with, and face consequences when they finance severe and unresolved harms.

Financial regulators also need to recognize biodiversity loss as more than a distant environmental concern. Tropical forests underpin food systems, water supplies and economic activity, while their degradation can create cascading risks across economies. Yet there is still no equivalent to the regulatory framework used for financial institutions considered systemically important, even as the degradation of these natural systems threatens consequences that extend far beyond individual companies or projects.

But banks should not wait for governments to act. They can establish clear red lines against deforestation, ecosystem conversion and serious human rights abuses, make those requirements enforceable in financing agreements, independently verify compliance and suspend or terminate financing when clients fail to address serious violations. Those safeguards must respect Indigenous Peoples’ rights, including Free, Prior and Informed Consent, and provide affected communities with meaningful access to remedy.

The choice facing governments at COP17 is therefore not simply how much money to mobilize for biodiversity. It is whether they are prepared to stop the financial system from undermining those investments in the first place.

The evidence is increasingly difficult to dismiss. Hundreds of billions of dollars are flowing into industries that are rapidly degrading the natural systems on which economies, and the web of life, depend. Governments have already promised to align financial flows with biodiversity goals. Now they need to make that commitment real.

At COP17, following the money would be a good place to start.

IPS UN Bureau

A new report on deforestation reflects the persistent gap between global ambitions to conserve and restore forests and enduring practices that continue to destroy them. Credit: UN Climate Change/Diego Herculano

By Umar Manzoor Shah
BERLIN, Germany/WASHINGTON, D.C., USA , Oct 14 2026 (IPS)

The world lost more than 7 million hectares of forest to deforestation in 2025, a modest improvement on recent years but still far from what is needed to meet global forest protection targets by 2030, according to a new assessment of international conservation efforts.

The Forest Declaration Assessment 2026, prepared by a coalition of civil society organisations and researchers and released worldwide on October 14, says deforestation remains stubbornly high despite international commitments to halt and reverse forest loss. The average annual area cleared since 2021 has exceeded 8 million hectares, highlighting the gap between government promises and progress on the ground.

Ivan Palmegiani, senior consultant at Climate Focus and one of the key report authors, told Inter Press Service in an exclusive interview that a key reason deforestation remains so high is that commitments have not been matched by the scale of action needed, and where action has been taken, it has not always been sufficient to deliver lasting impact.

“We have seen what is possible under dedicated political leadership, such as the Lula administration in Brazil, where targeted policies, enforcement, and political will reduced deforestation within a single term. However, these successes remain the exception rather than the norm, and they can be quickly reversed when priorities change.”

He added that at a deeper level, forest commitments have not been translated into the structural transformation in how natural resources are governed and used. Forests, Palmegiani said, continue to face strong economic pressures from agriculture, infrastructure, extraction, and other land uses, while decision-making systems and incentives still frequently favour the powerful few, who are physically and emotionally disconnected from forests, rather than the many who depend on them for their livelihoods, well-being, and cultural identity. “Until our societies, political and economic systems change how decisions about forests and other ecosystems are made, forest loss is likely to remain high despite global pledges.”

Ivan Palmegiani, senior consultant at Climate Focus and one of the authors of the Forest Declaration Assessment 2026. Credit: Supplied

The report also found that at least 65.4 million hectares of forest worldwide lost ecological integrity in 2024 because of human activities. The figure highlights a problem that extends beyond the complete removal of trees. Forests can remain standing while losing biodiversity, carbon storage capacity and their ability to sustain wildlife and local communities.

“Both figures reflect a persistent gap between global ambitions to conserve and restore forests and enduring practices that keep destroying them,” the report says.

The assessment examines progress on forest protection, sustainable production, finance and governance. It finds that some initiatives are moving forward, including efforts to improve forest monitoring and recognise Indigenous land rights. But these developments have not yet produced the scale of change required to reverse forest destruction.

More than 140 countries pledged under the Glasgow Leaders’ Declaration on Forests and Land Use, announced at the 2021 United Nations climate conference, to halt and reverse forest loss and land degradation by 2030.

Five years later, the latest assessment suggests that the world remains far from achieving that objective.

Tropical forests face particular pressure from agricultural expansion, infrastructure development and commercial activities. The report says these pressures are reinforced by weak enforcement of environmental laws and economic incentives that continue to favour activities associated with forest destruction.

‘We No Longer Look at Country-Level Figures’

Tropical Latin America recorded the largest absolute area of deforestation among the regions assessed but also made the most significant progress compared with the 2018-20 baseline. Deforestation there fell by 33 percent in 2025.

Tropical Africa, however, experienced a continued rise in forest loss. Annual deforestation in the region reached about 2.4 million hectares in 2025, comparable to the 2.5 million hectares recorded in tropical Latin America.

Tropical Asia lost approximately 1.6 million hectares of forest in 2025. That represented a 12 percent reduction compared with the 2018-20 baseline, although the report cautions that the underlying causes of deforestation remain largely unchanged.

The assessment describes tropical Asia’s progress as ambiguous. Two consecutive years of modest declines may indicate that the worst recent peaks have passed, but they do not establish that the region is on a sustained path towards forest recovery.

Tropical Oceania was the only tropical region assessed as being on track to meet its 2030 forest goals. Its relatively small share of global tropical forest area and lower current pressure on forests partly explain this difference.

The findings underline how national policies, commodity production and enforcement capacity can produce sharply different outcomes across regions.

When asked which countries have contributed most to this progress and what challenges continue to prevent deeper reductions in terms of deforestation, Palmegiani said, “We no longer look at country-level figures because the global datasets used for our calculations can sometimes misrepresent national trends. In fact, to avoid overstating the precision of the data, we only publish regional and global aggregates for our indicators.”

He added, ”That said, independent analyses and regional initiatives suggest that Indonesia and Malaysia have been important contributors to the decline in deforestation observed across tropical Asia. Despite this progress, the region continues to face significant economic pressures. These include growing demand for critical minerals, particularly nickel, of which Indonesia is the world’s leading exporter, as well as broader economic uncertainty linked to geopolitical conflicts and disruptions in global markets. When these pressures intensify, short-term economic priorities can outweigh environmental considerations, and forests often bear the cost.”

Agricultural Expansion and Commercial Interests

Agriculture remains a major driver of forest loss, with commercial production and growing demand for food, animal feed and bioenergy putting pressure on natural ecosystems.

The report says between 61 and 94% of tropical deforestation linked to commercial agriculture may be illegal. It estimates that environmental crime, including illegal deforestation and timber and wildlife trafficking, generates as much as US$281 billion annually.

Such activities often overlap with other criminal enterprises.

A 2025 study by the United Nations Office on Drugs and Crime, cited in the assessment, found links between environmental offences and crimes including drug trafficking, illegal mining and human trafficking.

The scale of these activities presents a major challenge for governments seeking to protect forests while regulating international commodity supply chains.

The assessment also points to gaps in corporate accountability. Companies in sectors linked to forest loss have increasingly adopted sustainability commitments and reporting systems, but disclosure and implementation remain uneven.

Financial institutions have begun to recognise deforestation as an environmental and financial risk. Yet the report says many regulatory frameworks lack detailed guidance on how banks should assess and manage those risks.

More than 60 percent of the countries assessed had yet to establish disclosure requirements covering deforestation-related risks for banks or insurance companies.

The report’s findings suggest that voluntary commitments and corporate reporting need to be accompanied by stronger enforcement and clearer requirements if they are to produce measurable changes in production and investment.

Forest Finance Remains a Major Challenge

The assessment identifies the scale and distribution of finance as another obstacle to forest protection.

Although international funding commitments have increased, financial support for conservation remains difficult to reconcile with the economic incentives that encourage activities harmful to forests.

The report estimates that subsidies linked to the production and use of fossil fuels reached $921 billion in 2024. Emergency measures introduced in 2026 to ease high energy prices could push the global total above $1 trillion this year.

The assessment warns that such subsidies can undermine efforts to shift to less harmful energy sources.

It also highlights the potential benefits of redirecting public support to activities that restore nature.

“Every dollar of agricultural support that is repurposed to support farming practices that restore nature, such as agroforestry, silvopasture, and low-carbon agriculture, can generate up to USD 30 in economic benefits, especially for rural communities,” the report says.

The findings point to an opportunity for governments to reform existing spending rather than rely entirely on new funding.

However, the report notes that international forest finance does not consistently reach the Indigenous peoples and local communities who manage and protect forest territories.

Community-led funding mechanisms can help direct resources towards local priorities, but they remain secondary recipients of direct funding from governments and multilateral institutions.

Indigenous Rights and Participation

The assessment identifies recognition of Indigenous land rights as an important part of effective forest governance.

At the 2025 United Nations climate conference, known as COP30, an intergovernmental commitment involving 16 countries and one subnational jurisdiction pledged to recognise or strengthen rights over an additional 160 million hectares of Indigenous lands and territories.

The launch of the Tropical Forests Forever Facility also created a provision reserving 20 percent of country-level payouts for direct transfers to Indigenous and local community organisations.

These developments represent progress, but the report says participation in international policymaking does not necessarily translate into decision-making power.

Indigenous coalitions have stressed that their increased presence at COP30 remained largely consultative. Indigenous peoples still lack formal standing in the United Nations climate negotiations, such as COP 31, which will take place in Antalya, Türkiye, from November 9 to 20.

National climate plans also frequently mention Indigenous peoples and local communities without specifying how they will participate in designing or implementing policies.

A 2026 review of 84 national climate plans found that 61 referred to under-represented groups, including Indigenous peoples and local communities. However, the assessment says most references were descriptive rather than linked to concrete measures.

The report argues that meaningful participation requires more than recognition in policy documents. It requires secure land rights, opportunities to influence decisions and access to the financial resources needed to manage territories.

Environmental Defenders Face Continuing Threats

Forest protection also carries serious risks for people who challenge illegal activities and defend community land.

The assessment cites Global Witness data showing that at least 124 land and environmental defenders were killed in 2025. More than half of the documented killings were linked to land disputes, and nearly three-quarters of the victims were Indigenous people, small-scale farmers or people of African descent.

Front Line Defenders separately reported that at least 358 human rights defenders were killed in 28 countries in 2025. Those working on land, environmental and peasant rights, as well as Indigenous rights, were among the groups that were frequently targeted.

Erin Matson, a lead consultant of Climate Focus and report author, told IPS in an interview that the statistics from Global Witness that we cite each year are always humbling. It’s important to remember that that figure is likely a significant underestimate, as many killings and disappearances go unreported.

Erin Matson, a lead consultant of Climate Focus and one of the authors of the Forest Declaration Assessment 2026. Credit: Supplied

“There are many factors at play, most of which are rooted in governance. The vast majority of environmental defenders are killed over land disputes, for example, when a mining operation encroaches on Indigenous territories. If those Indigenous communities do not have secure, recognised tenure rights to their territories, it makes it that much harder for them to resist operators who are acting illegally.”

She added that, therefore, securing tenure rights is a major step that governments need to enable. Next, Matson added that an environment of corruption and impunity allows actors to literally get away with murder. “In locations where government actors and law enforcement are under the sway and on the payroll of special interests, they will look the other way when people are harmed. Rooting out corruption, therefore, and instituting reforms to corrupted systems is essential. It must be ensured that public officials are paid well for their services so that they won’t be susceptible to corruption in the first place.”

The report identifies weak enforcement, limited government capacity and impunity for powerful actors as major obstacles to effective forest governance.

It also warns that environmental defenders face forms of intimidation beyond lethal violence, including criminalisation, threats and harassment.

Improved technology is helping authorities detect illegal forest clearance. Satellite monitoring, traceability systems and new investigative tools can help identify offences and strengthen cooperation across borders.

In Guatemala’s Maya Biosphere Reserve, for example, researchers are testing artificial intelligence-powered acoustic sensors designed to recognise chainsaws, gunshots and engines. The technology can alert rangers to potential illegal logging in remote areas that are difficult to patrol regularly.

But the report stresses that improved detection must be matched by fair and effective enforcement. Otherwise, small-scale producers and local communities may carry a disproportionate share of the burden while more powerful actors escape accountability.

The report reveals further that deforestation in 2025 was lower than in much of the preceding decade, and forest finance has increased. Monitoring systems have also improved, while several countries have taken steps towards recognising Indigenous land rights.

But the report cautions against interpreting these gains as evidence of a lasting turnaround.

It says the reduction in deforestation may partly reflect temporary factors, including stronger enforcement in some jurisdictions, changing commodity prices and economic conditions that slowed land conversion.

“These wins should not be mistaken for the transformation still needed,” reads the report.

IPS UN Bureau Report

By Madhu Rao and Tyson Miller
SINGAPORE, Oct 9 2026 (IPS)

When governments gather in Yerevan this month for the 17th UN Convention on Biological Diversity, they will weigh a promise nearly 200 countries adopted six years ago: to effectively conserve at least 30 percent of land, inland waters, and sea by 2030. Achieving the ambitious 30×30 target is essential to sustaining the systems humanity relies on for survival—including crop pollination, purification of water and air, and climate regulation—as well as the biodiversity that underpins food production, fisheries, and tourism.

Unfortunately, the world is not on track to achieve this target. Moreover, the emphasis on the quantitative dimension of the 30×30 target has often overshadowed its more critical objective: ensuring that areas of high biodiversity value are protected, conserved, and connected through effective and equitable management.

The struggle to deliver on international commitments reflects a fundamental challenge. The Global Biodiversity Framework requires countries to halt and reverse biodiversity loss while pursuing economic growth, and businesses are increasingly expected to mitigate nature-related impacts. The ongoing expansion in infrastructure, mining, and the energy transition places additional pressure on biodiversity-rich ecosystems, creating difficult trade-offs that must be carefully managed.

The fundamental question remains: how do we reconcile economic development with meeting biodiversity commitments?

A new analysis of tropical countries contains insights vital to answering that question. Most importantly, it found that oil and gas concessions overlap nearly 61 million hectares—roughly two and a half times the size of the United Kingdom—of protected and conserved areas. Mining concessions overlap another 43 million hectares. Such conditions can turn protected and conserved areas into ‘paper parks’: places protected in law but vulnerable to extractive industries in practice.

What the Maps Reveal

The analysis examined a wide range of some of the world’s most vital ecosystems and the industrial pressures closing in on them—oil and gas, mining, industrial logging, and large-scale agriculture—across the Amazon, Central America, the Congo Basin, and Southeast Asia, with further examples from the Global North. The report focused on the tropical forests and marine ecosystems that not only harbor irreplaceable biodiversity but also remain at the center of conflicts between extraction and conservation.

Senegal, for example, is close on paper to protecting 30 percent of its territory, yet oil and gas blocks cover 99 percent of both the country’s protected areas and identified Key Biodiversity Areas. The remaining undisturbed forest in Cambodia largely lies inside protected areas, yet a fifth of those areas face mining concessions and most contain land of interest to oil and gas companies. In the Democratic Republic of Congo, nearly three-quarters of the ambitious new Kivu-Kinshasa Green Corridor overlaps with oil and gas blocks included in a recent licensing round.

This contradiction between conservation in policy and extraction in practice can also be seen in high income countries. The United States has opened Bears Ears National Monument to mining and is threatening new oil drilling in the Arctic National Wildlife Refuge, and the UK also allows fossil-fuel companies to drill in protected areas.

There is further tension. Some of the mining pushing into protected areas is for minerals fueling the energy transition. Securing a stable climate and securing nature are both essential, and one should not be pursued by quietly sacrificing the other.

We need to consider not only how much additional territory must be brought under protection by 2030, but whether areas already counted as protected and conserved are genuinely conserved, effectively managed, and delivering meaningful biodiversity outcomes.

The Path Forward

High-integrity implementation of 30×30 means prioritizing places that matter most for biodiversity and ensuring they remain ecologically intact, connected, effectively conserved, and equitably governed. It means upholding Indigenous Peoples’ and local community rights and protecting these places from incompatible extractive and large-scale industrial activities.

There are four critical components. The first is the mitigation hierarchy, which calls for avoiding harm whenever possible before considering other measures. Areas of highest biodiversity value, including strictly protected areas, should be no-go zones for extractive industry.

The second is policy coherence. A protected area sits with a ministry of environment while a mining concession sits with a ministry of mines or energy, and unless biodiversity is built into the decisions of every economic sector, the two will keep colliding.

The third is biodiversity-inclusive spatial planning, which enables governments to clearly recognize where nature is protected and where development can proceed. Protect here, develop there.

Finally, effective and equitable governance, including rights-based approaches, is essential. Indigenous peoples and local communities steward some of the world’s most intact and biodiverse lands, including many areas of global importance for biodiversity. Their rights, knowledge and leadership are central to effective conservation.

With only four years left, the commitment worth making in Yerevan is durable protection for the areas that matter most, so they remain intact, connected, and free of the industries that would undermine them. We must make sure that 30×30 is not a promise that only exists on a map, but is a pathway to true biodiversity protection for our collective survival.

Madhu Rao, Chair of the IUCN World Commission on Protected Areas and Tyson Miller, Executive Director of Earth Insight

IPS UN Bureau

By James Alix Michel
VICTORIA, Seychelles, Oct 6 2026 (IPS)

One night, many years ago now, on a remote beach in the outer islands of Seychelles, I sat in the darkness and watched a green turtle come ashore. She had waited for the heat of the day to leave the sand. Under a sky crowded with stars, she hauled herself slowly above the tideline, dug with a patience no human hand could match, and laid her eggs. Then, in the small hours, she turned back toward the water. She did not hurry. She paused once, as though listening, and then made her slow, unhesitating way down the sand, back to a home older than any I could imagine.

James Alix Michel

We, the human beings watching from the shore, are the ones who wonder.

This, I have come to believe, is the deepest source of the trouble we now find ourselves in. Not our tools, not our economies, not even our numbers, though all of these press hard upon the living world. The deepest source is an older mistake: the unexamined assumption that we stand outside nature, deciding its fate. That the Earth is a stage and we are its principal players, and that everything else, the reef, the forest, the migrating whale, the green turtle, is scenery, resource, or backdrop.

The truth is far more humbling. We are not the authors of nature. We are its late arrivals.

Consider the arithmetic of belonging. The Earth is some four and a half billion years old. Life appeared here almost four billion years ago. Coral reefs were already ancient when the dinosaurs walked. Forests had been breathing for hundreds of millions of years before the first upright ape rose on the savannah. The calcium in our teeth, the iron in our blood, the carbon that composes almost everything we are, was forged in stars that lived and died long before this planet existed. To imagine ourselves separate from nature is not merely a philosophical mistake. It is a physical impossibility.

We Seychellois have a particular reason to understand this, for we are late arrivals twice over. Our granite islands are among the oldest islands on Earth, the only oceanic islands made of granite: fragments of the ancient supercontinent of Gondwana, left behind in the middle of the ocean when India drifted away some sixty-five million years ago. For almost all of that immense time, no human foot touched them. The turtles came, and the seabirds, and the giant tortoises. We came only in 1770, when a small party of Europeans, Africans and Indians stepped ashore on Sainte Anne. Others followed, from Africa, from India, from China, from Europe, some by choice and many, let us never forget, in chains. From that meeting of peoples, in scarcely two and a half centuries, a nation was born.

And something remarkable happened. A people with no ancestral memory of these islands learned, within a few generations, to belong to them. Our grandparents learned to read the sea as others read books. They gave thanks to the ocean before setting out and again on returning, and spoke of it as one speaks of a mother. Their kinship was not inherited; it was learned. That, to me, is among the most hopeful facts I know: belonging can be learned.

There is a school of thought, gathering strength in our time, that invites the whole of humanity to learn it too. Some call it biocentrism, the recognition that life in all its forms carries moral weight. Others call it deep ecology, the insistence that the human being is one strand in a vast web, not the loom on which the web is woven. The American conservationist Aldo Leopold put it most simply, many decades ago: we must learn to think “like a mountain.” The names matter less than the instinct behind them: that the living world is not a possession, and that our first duty to it is not extraction but attention.

This is why the environmental struggle feels to me, at its deepest level, like a spiritual struggle as much as an economic one. The numbers we use to measure our crisis are necessary and true, but they cannot on their own move the human heart. What moves the heart is the recognition that we are kin to what we are losing. That the coral bleaching in a lagoon is not a distant statistic but family. That the night sky above the nesting beach is not decoration but a memory of our own origin.

I do not offer this as sentiment. I offer it as strategy. For decades we have tried to persuade humanity to protect the Earth by appealing to self-interest. The argument is true, but it has not been sufficient. Self-interest is a thin thread from which to hang the future of a planet. What is needed now is the older and stronger thread of kinship. And kinship, once acted upon, is answered. On Aldabra, where green turtles were once taken in great numbers, decades of patient protection have allowed the nesting population to multiply several times over. The sea, it seems, is ready to forgive us, if we are ready to belong.

James Alix Michel, is Former President of the Republic of Seychelles

IPS UN Bureau

Excerpt:

Seaweed farmers tend their crop off Zanzibar, where rising sea temperatures are putting pressure on a vital coastal livelihood, according to the new Copernicus ocean report. Credit: Zuberi Mussa/IPS

By Kizito Makoye
DAR ES SALAAM, Tanzania, Sep 30 2026 (IPS)

Fatuma Makame learned to farm seaweed in the shallow water where her parents worked. These days, she grows it farther from shore.

In the shallows, warmer water has left the crop more vulnerable to poor growth and disease. Conditions can be better farther out, but working there requires a boat, equipment, and the skills to handle deeper water. Makame joined Mwani Zanzibar Mamas—a cooperative union that obtained a boat and farming gear. She has since reported larger, more reliable harvests.

The decision she faced is becoming familiar to seaweed farmers along Zanzibar’s coast: move the crop, if they can afford to, or keep planting where it has become harder to grow.

A new assessment of the world’s oceans gives that local difficulty a wider context. The 10th Copernicus Ocean State Report, released today (September 30), describes an ocean absorbing more heat, rising along coastlines and becoming more acidic. It was produced by Mercator Ocean International through the European Union’s Copernicus Marine Service.

“The ocean is transforming before our eyes: warming, rising seas and ecosystem degradation are interconnected signs of significant and long-term change. It is our responsibility to build the permanent capacity to anticipate this transformation,” said Pierre Bahurel, director-general of Mercator Ocean International.

According to the report, the global ocean absorbed an additional 23 zettajoules of heat in 2025 — roughly 40 times the energy the world consumed that year. Global mean sea level rose by an average of 3.8 millimetres a year between 1999 and 2025; the rate was 4.2 millimetres a year from 2012 to 2025. The report also says the ocean became approximately 17 percent more acidic between 1985 and 2025.

Those are global measurements. They do not describe the water at Makame’s farm or explain the result of any one planting season. But Zanzibar’s seaweed farmers have had to contend with warmer water for years.

Across Unguja and Pemba, seaweed provides income for thousands of households, many of them headed or supported by women. Farmers tie seedlings to lines, tend them in the water, then harvest and dry the crop for sale. A poor harvest can leave less money for food, school fees and the next planting.

The Food and Agriculture Organization has documented how warmer water can inhibit seaweed growth and make it more susceptible to disease. Moving farms into deeper, cooler water presents other difficulties: stronger currents can damage the crop, and many farmers cannot swim or lack the equipment to work there safely. Low prices further limit what they can spend on changing their methods.

Tanzanian marine scientist Narriman Jiddawi has documented related problems farther south, on Songo Songo Island. In one study commissioned by the Institute of Marine Sciences, she recorded unusually warm water and signs of disease at shallow farming sites that had been abandoned.

“Farming is failing in many cultivation sites in shallow intertidal areas where it used to grow well,” she said. Their measurements were taken at Songo Songo, not at Makame’s farm in Zanzibar.

The Copernicus report also examines the ocean territories of small island developing states. It finds that all their exclusive economic zones have experienced ocean warming since 1960. About 65% of their combined ocean area has been exposed to accelerating sea-level rise since 1999. Among the Indian Ocean members of that group, the figure is 33%

Zanzibar is part of Tanzania, rather than a separate small island developing state, so those percentages are not figures for the archipelago. The findings nevertheless speak to risks faced by island communities whose incomes and homes depend on the sea.

“Small Island Developing States are experiencing multiple dimensions of ocean change at once. Nearly two-thirds of their ocean territories are exposed to accelerating sea-level rise, while warming seas are increasing pressure on coral reefs, fisheries and coastal communities,” said Karina von Schuckmann, director of the Copernicus Ocean State Report.

“For island states, ocean change is not a distant environmental issue; it is an immediate economic, development and security challenge – and a warning of what many other coastlines will face in the future.”

For fishing families, the condition of coral reefs is one concern. Reefs provide habitat for fish and help reduce the force of waves reaching shore. Severe heat can cause corals to bleach, and repeated episodes can hinder their recovery.

The report finds that about a quarter of threatened coral reefs within the ocean territories of small island developing states experienced accumulated, mortality-level heat stress for at least one month between 1982 and 2025. That is a finding for those states collectively, not an assessment of Zanzibar’s reefs.

There is local evidence of damage. Researchers from the State University of Zanzibar examined reef observations spanning 1992 to 2016. They found severe declines in hard coral cover following the El Niño events of 1998 and 2016, though the extent of change differed substantially between reefs.

Heat is only one of the pressures on them. Pollution and damaging fishing practices can make recovery harder. Reducing those local pressures will not cool the Indian Ocean, but it may improve the prospects for reefs that survive a period of extreme heat.

Rising seas pose a separate challenge to coastal settlements. A World Bank assessment identifies Zanzibar and mainland Tanzania’s coast as vulnerable to erosion, flooding and damage to infrastructure and marine habitats.

For authorities deciding where to protect homes or restrict construction, measurements of tides, storms, reefs and mangroves need to be considered alongside what residents know about places where water already reaches houses and roads.

Through the Agriculture and Fisheries Development Programme, seaweed farmers in Unguja and Pemba have received training in planting, handling and processing. Improved drying racks and solar dryers help keep harvested seaweed away from sand and rain, reducing losses after it comes ashore.

Other farmers are exploring additional sources of income. FAO has trained seaweed farmers on Zanzibar’s east coast in sea cucumber cultivation. That work requires suitable sites, equipment and buyers and will not suit every household.

Financial protection is being explored as well. The United Nations Development Programme, Zanzibar’s disaster management authorities and the Ministry of Blue Economy and Fisheries are developing a climate-risk insurance proposal for seaweed farmers in Unguja and Pemba. It remains a proposal. Its usefulness will depend on which losses it covers, what farmers must pay, and how quickly they can settle a claim.

For Makame, the cooperative’s boat and gear made it possible to try farming farther offshore. Other farmers still work the shallows. Whether they can follow her depends on access to equipment, training and a way to bear the risk if a new method fails.

The Copernicus report tracks changes across decades. On Zanzibar’s coast, a farmer must decide where to put her next lines of seaweed.

IPS UN Bureau Report

Excerpt:

Member of Smallholder Farmer Alliance in Haiti with tree she is about to plant. Credit: A.F. Cortes/SFA

By Hugh Locke
NEW YORK, Sep 30 2026 (IPS)

Years ago, standing in a small farmer’s field in Haiti, I began to suspect that we had agriculture backward. The development world saw a man in need of rescue. I saw a farmer who might help rescue the rest of us.

That distinction matters. Over the next 25 years, humanity will need to grow much more food on a planet with degraded soils, shrinking biodiversity and a destabilizing climate. The usual instinct is to seek a technical fix. I want to suggest another source of help: a moral idea rooted in religion.

I am not a theologian. I am a development worker. In 2010, Haitian agronomist Timote Georges and I co-founded the Smallholder Farmers Alliance. We now work with about 10,000 farmers throughout Haiti who grow more food while rebuilding degraded land. Our “tree currency” rewards them for planting and caring for trees with credits they can exchange for seeds, tools and training.

Hugh Locke

Roughly 475 million smallholder farms, each under five acres, already produce about 30% of the world’s food despite limited access to finance, markets or technical support. In my new book, Whole Earth Farming, I argue that if even half of these families received support to adopt regenerative methods, they could produce the additional food humanity will need through 2050 on 12% of the world’s arable land, with a climate benefit comparable to offsetting the aviation industry’s annual emissions.

The Green Revolution averted famine, but its gains often came with degraded soils, diminished biodiversity and polluted water. Regenerative farming aims not merely to limit damage but to restore soil, rebuild biodiversity, improve farmers’ wellbeing and deliver a net climate benefit.

That is the language investors expect. Yet a case study more than a century old anticipated this approach, and its foundation was not market logic but morality.

From 1901 to 1921, ‘Abdu’l-Baha, one of the central figures of the Baha’i Faith, directed a farming settlement called ‘Adasiyyih in the Jordan Valley. Long before the term “regenerative agriculture” existed, the community used crop rotation, agroforestry, water conservation and integrated livestock management to make the land productive without exhausting it. Just as important was the framework behind those techniques: the belief that the earth is one country and humanity one interdependent family, expressed through consultation, equality and a rejection of extraction for its own sake. Farming at ‘Adasiyyih was not simply commodity production. It was a way to build community.

Regenerative agriculture does not require religious belief. Many successful regenerative farmers are secular, and the science stands on its own. But ‘Adasiyyih addressed, on a limited scale, a coordination problem that still hinders the movement: how can independent farmers, financiers, governments and companies be persuaded to treat soil health, water and biodiversity as a shared obligation?

‘Adasiyyih began with a moral premise rather than a technical formula. That premise is worth borrowing, whether one calls it stewardship or enlightened self-interest. Farmers, buyers and governments must act as though what happens to one plot of land is everyone’s concern, because increasingly it is. For generations we have asked how much the earth can give us. We should also ask what we owe in return.

Regenerative agriculture is at a fragile moment. By my estimate, some 15 million farms and ranches worldwide now use regenerative practices, and some 25 million acres, mostly in the United States, are certified under third-party standards, though almost none of that land is farmed by smallholders. The movement is growing faster than the systems meant to support it. Farmers can face lower yields and higher costs during the transition, there is no consensus on how to measure results, and financing, training and market rewards lag well behind farmers’ interest. A shared obligation is what can turn these isolated successes into lasting change.

This is not a case for religious agricultural policy, which would be unworkable in a pluralistic world. Smallholders are not waiting for a new theology. They need capital, training and markets. But the case for providing that support may rest more persuasively on the old idea of shared stewardship than on another spreadsheet of carbon calculations.

The next great agricultural transformation may begin not on the world’s largest farms but on hundreds of millions of its smallest. Given the means, smallholders may help determine whether the next 25 years of food production heal the planet or finish degrading it.

Hugh Locke is president of the Impact Farming Foundation and author of Whole Earth Farming: Smallholders and the Great Regenerative Transformation (George Ronald Publisher, 2026).

IPS UN Bureau

Rob Jetten, Prime Minister of the Kingdom of the Netherlands, addresses the High-level Meeting on Climate Action and the Just Transition on September 23. Credit: UN Photo/Laura Jarriel

By Oritro Karim
UNITED NATIONS, Sep 29 2026 (IPS)

The United Nations 2026 Climate Summit addressed critical strategies to mitigate the compounding impacts of the climate crisis and accelerate progress toward the Sustainable Development Goals (SDGs).

The summit brought together civil society actors, climate scientists, major energy producers and consumers, development experts, and world leaders on September 23 as part of the High-Level Week of the 81st session of the General Assembly (UNGA 81).

“The world is crying out for climate justice in mitigation, adaptation, and finance. We must answer that call with action, and we don’t have a moment to lose,” said UN Secretary-General António Guterres in his opening remarks. “But emissions are still rising when they must plummet, and fossil fuel expansion continues, defying science, economics, and common sense.”

“We have seen our fossil fuel dependence wreak havoc, driving up costs, draining budgets, squeezing households, and leaving countries at the mercy of conflicts and decisions far beyond their borders. Meanwhile, fossil fuel companies are banking windfall profits while everyday people foot the bill. Doubling down on oil and gas will only lock in vulnerability for decades,” Guterres added.

Nearly a decade after the adoption of the Paris Agreement, the summit comes as climate experts warn of a dangerous new phase in the global climate crisis. New findings project it is virtually “inevitable” that global temperatures will exceed 1.5°C above pre-industrial levels within the next ten years.

This overshoot presents widespread, multifaceted risks—from extreme weather patterns to escalating public health emergencies. Intensifying heatwaves, droughts, wildfires, storms, and floods continue to cause millions of deaths annually, drive mass displacement, and destroy critical infrastructure, particularly in low-lying coastal regions.

Prime Minister Tarique Rahman of Bangladesh—one of the world’s most climate-vulnerable regions—warned the General Assembly that up to 18 percent of the country’s coastal land could be entirely submerged by rising seas, endangering the security and livelihoods of tens of millions. President Naiqama Lalabalavu of Fiji also emphasized that over half of his country’s population lives within a kilometer of the shore, leaving communities at a significant risk of being exposed to natural disasters. He further noted that the stock of fish available to each Fijian is estimated to decline by nearly 25 percent by 2050, threatening widespread food insecurity across the region.

The compounding impact of these disasters is also linked to depressed crop yields—which significantly impact food insecurity, accelerate biodiversity loss, and cause widespread disease outbreaks. Higher temperatures directly drive the spread of vector-borne illnesses, while rising sea levels and flooding exacerbate waterborne diseases. As a result, countries worldwide continue to sustain massive economic and human costs while aid organizations and health sectors struggle to keep up with the influx of needs.

Tarique Rahman, Prime Minister of Bangladesh, addresses the High-level Meeting on Climate Action and the Just Transition. Credit: UN Photo/Laura Jarriel

“We just lived through the hottest July and August on record. Global sea surface temperatures are at a record high, and the worst is yet to come,” said Celeste Saulo, Secretary-General of the World Meteorological Organization (WMO). “We enter a dangerous terrain where we’re likely to cross a number of tipping point systems that not only regulate the stability of the climate system, but also fundamentally determine life support for human development.”

Numerous speakers also underscored the severity of an immensely powerful “Super El Niño” rapidly forming in the Pacific Ocean, which WMO has described as potentially the strongest in at least a millennium. Data from the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration’s (NOAA) Climate Prediction Center indicate a 90 percent chance that this El Niño will mark one of the most extreme weather events of the 2026-2027 winter.

Saulo warned that the global impacts of the impending El Niño will be massive and long-lasting and will cause 2026 to become the hottest year on record. Yvonne Aki-Sawyerr, Mayor of Freetown, Sierra Leone, told the General Assembly that damages in Africa alone could exceed USD 20 billion, with comparable losses projected across other highly climate-vulnerable regions.

The summit sets new goals for the international community: to return global temperatures to below 1.5°C as quickly as possible, limit the severity and duration of ongoing impacts from the overshoot, and facilitate the global transition to renewable energy. Guterres warned that the current generation sits at a critical turning point—it is the first to possess the tools to end the climate crisis and the last with the opportunity to avert a “climate catastrophe.”

The main pathways for climate action highlighted during the summit included increased intergovernmental cooperation, sustained investment in climate adaptation and resilience monitoring systems, and wider-scale deployment of renewable energy. In recent years, renewables have become significantly cheaper than traditional fossil fuels—such as coal, oil, and natural gas—while generating far lower emissions, facilitating sustainable development, and potentially averting hundreds of billions of dollars in climate-related losses worldwide.

While countries representing roughly 90 percent of all global emissions have submitted updated Nationally Determined Contributions (NDCs)—signaling widespread political commitment to the Paris Agreement in the midst of heightened geopolitical tensions—current NDCs are projected to continue to fall short of the emission reductions required to prevent an overshoot of the 1.5°C target.

Michael R. Bloomberg, the UN Secretary-General’s Special Envoy on Climate Ambition and Solutions and also founder of Bloomberg and Bloomberg Philanthropies, told the General Assembly that current financial contributions from the international community are insufficient, warning that these gaps in funding “can mean the difference between life and death.”

“More countries recognize that clean energy is essential to their security and economic stability. At the same time, while there’s still not enough climate funding going to developing countries, the amount has more than doubled since the Paris Agreement took effect,” said Bloomberg. “Now, we all know that’s not enough. Every day brings new evidence of the worsening harms of climate change.”

“No place on Earth is safe from climate change. Countries need more investment in resilient measures that protect people and in modern connected grids that will support the waves of clean energy installation. Both will require more of the kind of collaboration that has enabled progress over the past decade across government and business, philanthropy, nonprofits, and community leaders.”

IPS UN Bureau Report

 
CIVICUS discusses the role of art in climate and rights struggles in the Brazilian Amazon with Tom Wheeler, executive director and co-founder of Treesistance. Treesistance is a platform operated by the Netherlands-based Sinchi Foundation that partners with Indigenous communities across four Brazilian states on cultural preservation and forest protection.

Tom Wheeler

How did art become the centre of a forest protection initiative?

Sinchi, the foundation behind Treesistance, was set up in 2016 as a cultural organisation. I believed we needed a societal or spiritual shift, so in our first years we ran festivals, film screenings, galleries, music events and debates, and built art and documentary projects with Indigenous communities across six continents.

At some point I went through a bit of a crisis, questioning what real impact this work was having. Then I met Vandria Borari, a brilliant Indigenous lawyer and celebrated ceramic artist from western Pará, a state in the Brazilian Amazon. She introduced me to the Tapajós and Arapiuns Indigenous Council, an association that represents 14 Indigenous groups in the Lower Tapajós region. In 2021, our focus shifted to the Amazon, and in 2023, together with our Indigenous partners, we co-created Treesistance as a platform built around four pillars: access to justice, communications, renewable energy and sustainable economic development.

The access to justice work is what we’re best known for. We support Forest Guardians, community-led groups that patrol and defend Indigenous territories against illegal logging and other threats, and we help build strong relationships between the territories and Brazil’s Public Prosecutor’s Office, which has a constitutional mandate to defend Indigenous rights.

That shift toward tangible, on-the-ground impact didn’t push art aside. If anything, it made clear how essential it was. Art isn’t a side product or a tool for us. It’s central to the community aspect of this work, to participation and authenticity, and to what the wider decolonial tradition is trying to achieve, of giving voice to communities and centring them in their own stories. Everything we do is co-created, but it’s led by our Indigenous partners. This carries multiple meanings for them, not least the pride of building something of their own from the ground up.

What’s the Tales of Resistance project?

Tales of Resistance is led on the ground by Vivi Borari, a talented young Indigenous woman. The idea was to build an archive, first and foremost for Indigenous communities’ use and records, telling the stories of the Majés and Pajés – plant healers, shamans and spiritual guides within these territories – from the inside out.

The project is about telling their origin stories, how they work within the community, what their roles and responsibilities are and the messages they carry from the spirits to the world. Once those stories exist on the communities’ terms, and with their consent, they can also travel further, which is why we’re now developing them into an exhibition. That kind of storytelling matters because one of the biggest challenges impact organisations face is talking only to people who already agree with them and failing to reach beyond that circle. Art and storytelling are how you break through.

We also took a deliberately different approach to how these stories are gathered. Turning up with a camera and asking people to explain their culture on the spot is a very western way of working. Just imagine how strange it would feel if someone did that to you. So we don’t do that. For us, everything starts as an audio recording while we are sitting together, having tea, walking in the forest, just talking about people’s experiences. Many of these stories would simply never be told in front of a camera. Only afterwards do we do a photo shoot, and that’s when we layer the audio and images together.

What films have you made, and what impact have they had?

Two years ago, we made a short film, Curupira, sharing the story of one of the forest’s spirits as told by one of the communities we work with. It was nominated for awards at film festivals around the world. It’s a tangible example of what storytelling can do for us. It brought in new interest, funders, partners and collaborators, people who wouldn’t otherwise have found their way to this work.

In 2026, we released another short film, Surara – Spirit of Resistance, directed by Lea Hejn, which won the Guardians in Action category at the Santiago Wild Film Festival in Chile. It includes footage from patrols led by Chief Dadá Borari, head of our Forest Guardian programme.

What changes when communities see themselves represented, and why do you call this resistance rather than activism?

The cultural scene, in the global south as much as the global north, is still working through questions of representation, making sure people see the diversity of their context reflected on screen. As Vivi has said, our biggest impact comes when Indigenous people see themselves and their reality reflected. This changes their self-perception. They no longer see themselves as victims but as people with agency, as fighters. That’s a qualitative impact that’s genuinely hard to put into a single sentence or measure in the way we measure hectares protected. But it’s real, and it’s the storytelling and narration that make it happen.

That’s also why we don’t use the word ‘activism’ much. It’s a strange word, a badge of honour to some people, something to avoid for others, and I think it’s fundamentally a western construct. There shouldn’t be anything activist about wanting to protect the health of the planet or stand up for human rights. That should be a key component of being a good person.

For our Indigenous partners, the stakes are different, though. For them, this work is intrinsic to survival, both literally, given the violence they face from illegal and aggressive forces, and culturally, in the sense of keeping traditions such as their graphic art and oral storytelling alive.

‘Resistência’ is the word I hear most often within Indigenous communities, whether people are talking about protecting their culture or land. It’s not a one-off response to a single government or form of exploitation, but something long-term and intergenerational, and like any form of resistance, the energy behind it runs low if it isn’t renewed. Art is one of the ways that energy gets renewed, generation after generation. That’s why we called the storytelling project Tales of Resistance and the wider platform Treesistance.

What other art initiatives do you run?

Storytelling extends into our product collaborations with local Indigenous artists, who create things such as clothing and notebooks. One example is Guardian of Nature, a T-shirt based on the Guardians’ uniform design. Buying one pays for a uniform for a Forest Guardian on the ground.

We’ve also launched a drink called Purpose, now going into restaurants in the Netherlands. A portion of the proceeds from every bottle sold supports our Forest Guardian projects. The brand itself is built around storytelling. It’s about people identifying their own sense of purpose in the world. So it’s art, but commercially driven, aimed at creating impact on the ground.

We held an open art and design competition for Indigenous artists from the 14 ethnic groups or nations of the Tapajós, focused on expressing their culture and relationship with nature. It brought the artists local and regional recognition through an event where the Indigenous Council, artists and other partners came together to celebrate the work.

How do you avoid the exploitative imagery typical of development fundraising?

Traditional development fundraising tends to rely on a particular kind of emotional imagery – a poor person, a hungry child, an old man in need – because that’s what drives donations from the kind of donor it targets. We deliberately avoid that.

There’s a well-known quote, often attributed to the Aboriginal Australian academic Lilla Watson, although she credits it to a collective of Aboriginal activists, that says, ‘If you have come here to help me, you are wasting your time, but if you have come because your liberation is bound up with mine, then let us work together’.

None of the communities we work with are looking for charity. The role they play in protecting the Earth and their culture has real value in itself and, in my opinion, we need their wisdom more than they need us. We never describe ourselves as the communities’ funder. We’re a partner. When we help raise money, we’re clear that it was never ours to begin with. If it comes with requirements attached, the conversation is always about how we meet them together rather than about us imposing them. That’s the same principle whether we’re talking about a grant, a story or art. It has to build something the community owns, not something we extract.

CIVICUS interviews a wide range of civil society activists, experts and leaders to gather diverse perspectives on civil society action and current issues for publication on its CIVICUS Lens platform. The views expressed in interviews are the interviewees’ and do not necessarily reflect those of CIVICUS. Publication does not imply endorsement of interviewees or the organisations they represent.

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Moderator Arif Ullah of Anthropocene Alliance joins LaTricea Adams of Young, Gifted, and Green; Dionne Delli-Gatti of Continuum Strategies; and Dr. Katlyn Turner of CU Boulder Information Science and KTLN Consulting to discuss AI’s environmental justice impacts and how frontline communities can maintain agency as data center development expands. Credit: Pillar Projects / Grayson Wise

By Oritro Karim
UNITED NATIONS, Sep 25 2026 (IPS)

On September 21, Frontline Resource Institute (FRI) hosted its Climate Justice Hub at Fordham University at Lincoln Center in New York City under the theme “Building a Stronger Climate Coalition.”

As part of Climate Week, and coinciding with the 81st session of the UN General Assembly, the event united advocates, researchers, policymakers, and frontline leaders to address the intensifying threat of climate change to global public health, while highlighting the need for stricter guardrails on artificial intelligence (AI) data centers, particularly in their impacts on frontline communities.

Arif Ullah, Executive Director of Anthropocene Alliance (A2) and a moderator at the event, referenced Empire of AI: Dreams and Nightmares in Sam Altman’s OpenAI by journalist Karen Hao, noting her warning that AI functions as a “new form of colonialism.” Ullah emphasized that AI’s impacts on frontline communities and their environments is multifaceted and far-reaching, requiring far more robust physical infrastructure to be sustainable.

“In July, nearly 1,400 tech company employees signed an open letter urging the [U.S.] government to regulate AI. Recently, an Anthropic researcher quit his job warning that the people building AI believe it could kill us all by the end of the decade,” said Ullah. “When you consider the many ways in which [resources are] extracted, it’s hard to disagree. Hyperscale data centers are among the ways it’s most extracted, not to mention destructive. We are seeing them proliferate, unchecked and unregulated across the country.”

Numerous speakers at the event underscored that natural resources are routinely extracted from frontline communities with little regard for public health or the stability of local ecosystems. To meet the rapidly growing demands for continuous power, data centers around the world have increasingly implemented methane gas turbines. These measures have led to a surge in toxic chemical emissions—such as formaldehyde and benzene—driving widespread air and water pollution while consuming vast amounts of water.

Sarah Vogel, Senior Vice President of the Environmental Defense Fund (EDF) and another moderator of the event, warned that extreme weather patterns—including intense heatwaves, prolonged flooding, destructive wildfires, degraded air and water quality, and the spread of infectious diseases—are among the most alarming and common consequences of AI-exacerbated climate change.

She emphasized that these impacts present heightened risks of lung cancer, heart disease, and strokes, particularly for frontline communities. Young people are uniquely vulnerable, as their developing bodies face continuous strain from pollutants without the opportunity to grow up in healthy environments. Those with pre-existing conditions also face a heightened risk of exacerbated health outcomes.

“For communities in this country and around the world who have experienced the legacy and ongoing impacts of environmental injustices, climate change and the related pollution is a threat magnifier,” said Vogel. “We know that when our health is impaired, it’s like a domino effect. Everything is impacted. Our ability to work, our ability to take care of children, the costs associated with it. The ability to just enjoy our lives. That is what we mean when we say that the climate crisis is a health crisis”

It is these frontline communities, oftentimes primarily composed of people of color, that are entrenched in severe environmental degradation and pushed further into poverty while others reap the financial benefits. Bearing the brunt of extreme pollution, these communities often lack the healthcare infrastructure required to withstand such environmental shocks.

LaTricea Adams, Founder, CEO, and President of Young, Gifted, and Green, noted that frontline communities are often left ill-equipped to adapt to AI-driven climate shocks, describing it as a “point of reckoning.” She emphasized that many residents are often unaware that they are on the frontlines of environmental degradation, going a “significant amount of time” without understanding the full extent of how these developments directly impact their lives.

“We as a collective are still not taking public health seriously. That also has an economic implication,” said Adams. “While you may bring in millions of dollars, if people are consistently sick, does that not have an impact on healthcare, which we know is lacking in our country and in our society?”

“What you’re not gonna do is come into our community and give us nothing but pollution while we remain in poverty. But at the same time, we do have to make sure that we protect the people that have been neglected for centuries in disinvestment.”

Several panelists underscored the importance of centering frontline communities in AI reform, with cooperation between governments, community leaders, corporations, and the health sector imperative in preventing harm and establishing sustainable practices that can uplift these communities. Vogel noted that in order to build healthy and resilient communities, approaches in AI regulation must prioritize health and equity to effectively minimize risks.

Panelist Ali Abazeed, Chief Public Health Officer and Director for the city of Detroit warned that the international community must not become “sophisticated witnesses” to preventable harm, noting that progress hinges on empowering communities and providing them with the data that affects their lives.

“Public health doesn’t happen inside an office. Comfort is comfortable. The ivory tower—the research generated there is hugely important but it has to roll out to the communities,” said Abazeed, emphasizing that action is critically important amidst widespread cuts to funding for research and potential hostile takeovers of national institutes for health.

“Speaking as a government official, we need to recognize that the work that we do and the powers that we have can help uplift and elevate communities. The charge is to be outside, to be in the clinic lobby for public health, in the church basement, for us to be meeting the fence-line communities.”

IPS UN Bureau Report

By James Alix Michel
VICTORIA, Seychelles, Sep 24 2026 (IPS)

After decades in which the high seas were too often treated as a distant frontier—vast, ownerless and beyond meaningful protection—the High Seas Treaty entered into force on 17 January 2026.

It was a landmark achievement for international cooperation and a reminder that, even in an increasingly divided world, nations can still come together in defence of the common good. But celebration must not be confused with protection. A treaty on paper will not restore depleted marine life. It will not prevent harmful activity and it will not ensure that the benefits of ocean science are shared fairly. Nor will it secure a healthy ocean for future generations unless the international community gives it the resources, institutions, scientific capacity and political courage necessary to succeed. That is the real test now before us.

The Biodiversity Beyond National Jurisdiction (BBNJ) Agreement, also known as the High Seas Treaty, creates a framework for the conservation and sustainable use of marine biodiversity in areas beyond national jurisdiction. It addresses four essential areas: the fair and equitable sharing of benefits from marine genetic resources; marine protected areas and other area-based management tools; environmental impact assessments; and the capacity-building and transfer of marine technology. These areas will secure the future of the global ocean—and, by extension, the future of every nation whose climate, food security, economy and heritage depend upon it.

For small island developing states, it is our climate regulator, our food source, our economic space, our history and our future. We do not look at the sea as a faraway expanse beyond our borders. We live with it every day. We prosper or suffer according to its health.

During my years as President of Seychelles, this understanding shaped my conviction that the ocean had to be placed at the centre of national development. Seychelles chose to pursue a blue-economy vision at a time when the phrase was less familiar than it is today. We worked to protect large areas of our maritime space, advanced marine spatial planning, and explored innovative approaches to ocean finance, including debt-for-nature arrangements and the blue bond.

Our actions were not driven by the illusion that a small island nation could fix a global crisis single-handedly. Instead, we acted out of a core conviction: true leadership belongs to more than just the largest landmasses, the richest economies, or the most dominant militaries. While we are a small island state in land, we are a vast ocean nation. We possess a wealth of experience, strategic maritime vision, and deep resolve. It is this exact spirit—proving that stewardship is measured by commitment rather than geographic size—that must anchor and define the High Seas Treaty.

The treaty rightly recognises the special circumstances of developing states, including small island developing states and coastal African states. It acknowledges that access to data, research, equipment, technical knowledge, monitoring systems and trained people is essential if all countries are to participate meaningfully in ocean governance. However, this principle must now be honored in practice. Too often, developing countries are invited to global negotiations only to discover that the real advantages remain concentrated elsewhere: locked away in distant laboratories, research vessels, satellites, and data systems. If the benefits arising from marine genetic resources are to be genuinely shared, then access to the knowledge and tools required to understand and use those resources must also be shared. The ocean cannot become another arena in which wealthier nations draw the greatest benefit while poorer and more vulnerable countries are asked merely to endorse the rules.

The first Conference of the Parties for the High Seas Treaty, scheduled to take place in early January 2027, will be a critical moment. It must not become a narrow exercise in procedure or a meeting dominated by those already best equipped to influence outcomes. It should establish an implementation culture based on ambition, inclusion and urgency. It must ensure that the financial mechanism is strong enough to support developing countries, that scientific cooperation is meaningful, and that capacity-building is not reduced to occasional workshops or vague promises. The treaty’s decision-making body is expected to convene within its first year in force, making the coming months decisive for how this new era of ocean governance is shaped.

There is another important lesson here. The world has too often separated environmental protection from development, as though nations must choose between conserving nature and improving the lives of their people. For island states, this is a false choice. A healthy ocean is development. It supports fisheries and livelihoods. It protects coastlines. It regulates climate. It sustains tourism, culture and community. It offers scientific discoveries that may help humanity confront disease, food insecurity and environmental change. To protect the ocean is not to turn away from progress. It is to redefine progress so that it can endure.

This is why the High Seas Treaty matters so deeply. It offers a chance to move beyond a culture of reaction—responding only after a fishery declines, a species disappears, a reef bleaches or an ecosystem is damaged beyond repair. It gives the international community an opportunity to act with greater foresight: to assess environmental risks before they are allowed to grow, to establish protected areas before the last refuge is lost, and to place stewardship alongside opportunity. But no agreement, however historic, can substitute for political will.

The treaty will need champions: governments willing to invest in its success; scientists willing to share knowledge; institutions prepared to support fair access; civil society determined to hold leaders accountable; and young people who refuse to accept that the ocean’s future should be decided without them. Seychelles has long believed that the world must see the ocean not as a boundary between nations, but as the great connector of humanity. That belief is even more urgent today.

The high seas belong to no single country and its condition affects us all. The High Seas Treaty is therefore more than a legal instrument. It is a test of whether multilateralism can still respond to the challenges that no nation can solve alone.

The ocean has a law and now the world must give it life.

James Alix Michel, is Former President of the Republic of Seychelles

IPS UN Bureau

Indigenous Peoples, local communities, and Afro-descendant Peoples protest exclusion and lack of recognition at the UNCCD COP17 in Ulaanbaatar, Mongolia. Credit: Lucas Wasson for Rights and Resources Initiative

By Bayarsaikhan Namsrai, Gregoria Jimenez Amaya, Isabel Davila Pereira and Stephen Basele
ULAANBAATAR, Mongolia, Sep 23 2026 (IPS)

Rightsholders came to Ulaanbaatar from across the world, carrying declarations, demands and years of experience defending the lands on which their communities depend. Indigenous Peoples, local communities, Afro-descendant Peoples, women and youth were equally clear about what they needed from COP17. But being in the room is not the same as having power in the room.

In a year when the International Year of Rangelands and Pastoralists and the three Rio Conventions were supposed to create momentum for rights, recognition and implementation, the negotiations showed how quickly those gains can be diluted when the people concerned are not able to shape the language that governs their lands.

What happened in Ulaanbaatar should concern anyone advancing land restoration, climate resilience and biodiversity conservation. These cannot succeed while the rights of the people who govern these landscapes remain negotiable.

Ahead of COP17, the demands were clear: 2026 could not be a symbolic year. It had to be a year when secure and customary tenure for Indigenous Peoples, local communities, pastoralists, Afro-descendant Peoples, women and youth was translated into real protections and implementation across the Rio Conventions.

Pastoralists, Mobile Peoples, Indigenous Peoples, Afro-descendant Peoples and local communities are proven leaders in land stewardship, biodiversity conservation and climate resilience. Achieving global restoration goals requires recognizing their rights, knowledge and leadership.

Secure and flexible tenure and mobility rights were an urgent ask in the context of the IYRP. RRI’s legal analysis of seven countries found that only Nepal and Niger recognize pastoralists as distinct rightsholders and only Niger considers mobility as a fundamental right. Even where rights exist on paper, they routinely fail against agricultural encroachment, mining, conservation expansion and green energy projects. Tenure should not be secondary to these initiatives, but a pre-condition before any projects are attempted in community lands.

Communities requested land and customary governance rights as a formal and permanent agenda item following past land tenure decisions, with customary institutions recognized as implementing bodies rather than consulted stakeholders and Free, Prior and Informed Consent (FPIC) as a precondition for any Land Degradation Neutrality action.

Finance is not a technical question. It is a question of power. At a COP supposedly focused on implementation, it should have been a central matter that communities cannot implement priorities they did not define, using resources they do not control. Yet too much climate, biodiversity and land finance still travels through institutions far removed from the communities whose territories generate environmental benefits.

For communities, direct and flexible finance is about more than getting money to the last mile. It is about trusting organizations and customary institutions to decide what resilience, restoration and development mean in their own territories.

Rightsholders were ready to advance their distinct rights during COP17. The presence of pastoralists at COP17 was significant, but presence alone does not translate into influence. Pastoralists arrived organized, with a global declaration and clear demands, yet the experience of the negotiations showed that meaningful participation requires more than being present in the conference halls. It requires the knowledge, resources, relationships and sustained capacity to follow negotiating texts, understand procedures, build alliances and influence language as decisions are being shaped.

On Land and People Day, the Indigenous Peoples Caucus delivered the Sacred Lands Declaration directly to the UNCCD Executive Secretary, demanding recognition grounded in self-determination, a permanent seat on the Committee on Science and Technology, and a dedicated fund for Indigenous-led restoration.

The local communities caucus asked for institutional status equal to the Indigenous Peoples’, Gender and Youth Caucuses rather than as a facilitative mechanism sidelined when convenient, plus a self-determined representation model and sustained funding for its operation.

Afro-descendant Peoples asked for what the other two Rio Conventions have already conceded: to be named. Afro-descendant Peoples across Latin America and the Caribbean steward territories degraded or acutely at risk — drylands, deforested frontiers, dry forests, riverine and coastal lands. They asked the UNCCD to open an Afro-descendant desertification agenda for the first time.

Women’s demands cut across all of this. Parties have built agreed gender language across three COPs. The ask was that it hold and be implemented.

For youth, being called “the future” has become another way of postponing their participation in the present. Young rightsholders are already living the consequences of drought, shrinking mobility, changing economies and pressures on their territories. They are not waiting to inherit these challenges. What they need is more than a voice now, it is representation, resources and authority in the institutions making decisions about their future. Their minimum requests included recognition as drivers of present-day adaptation, a permanent space within UNCCD processes, culturally appropriate education, and direct financing for youth-led organizations.

How the Negotiations Went

Based on prior COP decisions, COP17 should have been the continuation of a road towards implementation. Instead, the days in Ulaanbaatar became much more focused on protecting past progress rather than operationalizing it.

The institutional failures began on day one. At the opening plenary on 17 August, only two State Parties objected to agenda items, yet no vote was held and instead the presidency provisionally adopted the agenda. Future Strategic Framework, synergies with other conventions, gender, and participation of civil society were all deferred pending consultation. The COP closed with no decision at all on civil society participation, the Riyadh mandate to bring the Indigenous Peoples’ Caucus and the Local Communities’ Caucus to full Terms of Reference under Decision 5/COP.16 was pushed to COP18, and Rio synergies were removed from all decisions. Gender never reached the negotiation floor; instead, a quiet Gender Caucus convened in Plenary as the agenda block was sustained.

Still, IYRP advocacy proved successful to some extent. Parties agreed to recognize the critical role of pastoralists as stewards of rangeland ecosystems, including the importance of transboundary mobility. However, compromise language was adopted, replacing “traditional knowledge” with “knowledge accumulated by pastoralists” in order to remove wording related to Indigenous Peoples and local communities.

This distinction matters. Pastoralist knowledge is not simply a body of information accumulated over time; it is embedded in living institutions, relationships, territories and systems of customary governance. When knowledge is separated from the peoples and institutions that hold and transmit it, it becomes a technical resource while the rights and authority of its holders remain unrecognized. Draft decisions on land tenure and sand and dust storms also advanced, but only by leaving the naming of rightsholders behind. The lack of language on Indigenous Peoples and local communities was one of the biggest gaps. Many negotiators backed Indigenous Peoples’ and local communities’ rights in plenary, but behind closed doors, agreed to language so general it protects no one in particular. Language proposed replacing references to Indigenous Peoples with “common places” or “common people.” In the land tenure text, “affected areas” was pushed toward “common areas,” a phrase with no grounding in any multilateral mechanism and no obligations attached.

This dilution of language is particularly consequential as pressure on rangelands grows from competing global agendas. Rangelands are increasingly being presented as spaces for carbon sequestration, renewable energy, conservation and large-scale restoration, often without adequately recognizing the pastoralists who already govern and steward these landscapes.

And this is where the politics of rangelands becomes unavoidable.

Rangelands are increasingly being seen as spaces for carbon, renewable energy, conservation and large-scale restoration. The danger is that landscapes already governed and stewarded by pastoralists begin to be treated as empty spaces available for solving someone else’s global environmental problem.

A green transition cannot become a new form of land dispossession.

If pastoralists are displaced in the name of renewable energy, excluded in the name of conservation, or turned into carbon credits in the name of climate action, then changing the colour of development does not change its underlying politics.

Climate, biodiversity and land restoration objectives must not be pursued by treating pastoralist territories as empty spaces or global environmental infrastructure while sidelining the people whose livelihoods, cultures and institutions are rooted in them.

The same principle applies to emerging carbon and other environmental markets. Pastoralist rangelands cannot be reduced to carbon sinks whose value is defined externally while the cumulative ecological, economic and cultural value of pastoralism remains invisible. Any financing or market mechanism operating in these territories must begin with secure tenure, meaningful participation, Free, Prior and Informed Consent (FPIC), and fair recognition of the rights and contributions of pastoralist communities.

Right through the final day, negotiators discussed whether to reference synergies among the Rio Conventions, and whether to include gender at all. These questions were either resolved by adopting ambiguous and broad language that betrays the protection from past COP decisions or by simply delaying any decisions to COP18.

Across every draft negotiating text currently available, rangelands, drought, sand and dust storms, land tenure, Afro-descendant Peoples do not appear at all. Not contested and diluted; simply absent. On the year of the three Rio Conventions, this demonstrates how UNCCD is lagging. CBD Decision 16/6 made the Convention on Biological Diversity the first Rio Convention to name them explicitly and at UNFCCC COP30 they appeared in core negotiating text. The bridge that could have carried that recognition into the UNCCD was the synergies item blocked on day one. These synergies are urgent to deal with the intersections across climate, land degradation and biodiversity conservation.

When it came to drought, the COP also fell short. Decision ICCD/COP(17)/L.15 runs to four operative paragraphs: continue discussions at COP18 with a view to adopting a decision on proactive drought management; make drought a stand-alone agenda item; ask the secretariat and Global Mechanism to keep supporting Parties; and report back. After deferring at COP16 and again here, the working group toward a binding instrument did not materialize; the next window is 2028. In the current text, Indigenous Peoples and local communities appear as people affected by drought and consulted, rather than as rightsholders.

COP17 presented an unprecedented situation in which a small number of Parties blocked key issues from meaningful consideration. There is no Land Degradation Neutrality without human rights, no resilience without gender equality, no sustainable land governance without Indigenous Peoples, Afro-descendant Peoples and local communities.

COP17 also taught us something uncomfortable about participation. It is possible to be visible everywhere at a COP and still have very little influence over what finally enters the negotiating text.

Influence requires preparation. It requires people who understand the Convention, know the procedures, follow the text, build relationships with negotiators, organize across constituencies and remain engaged long after the cameras leave. Pastoralist movements have strong knowledge of their lands and livelihoods. What they need now is equal investment in the political and technical capacity required to defend that knowledge and those rights in global decision-making spaces.

If pastoralists want to shape the next COP, they cannot only prepare declarations. They must prepare negotiators.

What Happens Next

The answer cannot be another declaration.

The remaining COPs of 2026 must turn recognition into implementation. That means three things: name the peoples whose rights are at stake; put resources directly into the hands of their organizations and institutions; and give them meaningful authority over the decisions affecting their territories.

At CBD COP17 and UNFCCC COP31, Indigenous Peoples, Afro-descendant Peoples and local communities must be recognized as rights-holders and implementing partners, not folded into generic “vulnerable groups” language. At UNCCD COP18, the gains made on pastoralists, tenure and customary governance must not be allowed to disappear into vague language.

But the responsibility does not rest with the conventions alone. Pastoralist movements must also build the capacity to influence these processes. The period between COPs must be used to coordinate positions, prepare negotiators, track decisions and negotiating texts, build alliances across the Rio Conventions and engage governments between sessions. Pastoralist organizations need investment not only to attend COPs, but to understand and shape what happens inside them.

COP18 must deliver the adoption of Terms of Reference for the Indigenous Peoples’ and Local Communities’ Caucuses, restore gender and synergies to the agenda, open an Afro-descendant desertification agenda, advance a drought decision with the communities who live its consequences first, and restore the full recognition of traditional knowledge.

Vague language does not merely fail to establish obligations. It blurs the content of rights and leaves earned recognition in a regression limbo.

Naming peoples is the beginning of recognition, not the end of it. Recognition must lead to rights, rights must be backed by institutions and finance, and those institutions must have the authority to shape the decisions that affect their territories.

The peoples who shepherd the vast majority of the world’s lands do not need another symbolic year. They need their names written into the decisions, and their voices, institutions and authority protected long after the COP is over.

Bayarsaikhan Namsrai (Steps Without Borders), Gregoria Jimenez Amaya (CITAFRO/ODECO), Isabel Davila Pereira (Rights and Resources Initiative), Stephen Basele (Pastoralist Goals Foundation)

IPS UN Bureau

Closing plenary of the recent Kunming Dialogue. Credit: ENB-IISD/Anastasia Rodopoulou

By Stella Paul
KUNMING, China, Sep 17 2026 (IPS)

The world may have enough money to protect nature. The bigger problem, according to the head of the UN Convention on Biological Diversity (CBD), is that too much of it is still being spent on activities that destroy it.

With just four years left to meet the world’s 2030 biodiversity goals, Astrid Schomaker, Executive Secretary of the CBD, said governments must urgently change where money flows if they are to slow the loss of nature.

Her warning comes just weeks before governments meet in Yerevan, Armenia, for COP17, the UN biodiversity conference scheduled for October 19-30.

Speaking at a press conference organised by the CBD Secretariat on September 11 – after the three-day Kunming Dialogue, Schomaker said governments need to redirect financial flows and reform incentives that encourage activities harmful to nature. Without such changes, she warned, progress under the Kunming-Montreal Global Biodiversity Framework (KMGBF) will remain too slow.

What’s Slowing Biodiversity Action?

The Kunming-Montreal Global Biodiversity Framework, adopted in Montreal in 2022, sets 23 targets for protecting and restoring biodiversity by 2030. Since its adoption, governments have been carrying out the first-ever global stocktake of how the framework is being implemented, examining progress across countries and individual targets.

The stocktake began after COP16 and is looking at the full picture of implementation, from the targets countries have set for themselves to the policies, plans, finance and other measures they are putting in place to achieve them. Its findings are being compiled in the forthcoming State of Biodiversity Action report, which will present the final global assessment at COP17.

The three-day Kunming Dialogue, held from Sept. 7 to 9, offered governments, scientists, Indigenous Peoples, youth representatives and civil society organisations an early look at the trends emerging from this stocktake. While more than 70 percent of countries have submitted national reports and over 90 percent have established biodiversity targets aligned with the global framework, the emerging picture is far less encouraging. Progress remains uneven, with implementation lagging behind the scale and pace needed to achieve the 23 targets by 2030. The emerging findings suggest that global efforts are not yet moving fast enough or at the scale needed to achieve the 23 targets by 2030. In other words, while countries have made progress in setting commitments, implementation remains well behind what is required.

“Progress is being made clearly, but it is uneven, and it is clearly also not at the pace and scale required,” Schomaker told IPS.

Gap Between Global Goals and National Action

One of the biggest problems is that biodiversity commitments have not yet been fully carried into national policies, budgets and economic decisions.

According to Schomaker, some of the largest gaps are in finance, resource mobilisation and efforts to bring biodiversity into the work of government ministries and economic sectors beyond the environment.

Jillian Campbell, Head of Planning, Monitoring and Knowledge at the CBD Secretariat, said the problem is not that countries have failed to set targets. Rather, there is often a gap between what was agreed globally and what countries have committed to doing at home.

“Most parties have set national targets covering almost every global target. However, the national targets often don’t cover the full extent of the global targets,” she told IPS.

As countries turned the global framework into their own national plans, some of its ambition was lost along the way. This is particularly visible in areas where action depends on ministries beyond the environment, including finance, agriculture, infrastructure and development.

That raises a bigger question — and one that is likely to be central at COP17: is the problem really a lack of money for biodiversity, or is it where existing money is going?

For Schomaker, the answer is clear.

“The biggest elephant in the room of all of that is the misalignment of financial systems,” she told IPS. “There is enough money around in the world economy. The question is, where does that money go?”

Money Flowing in the Wrong Direction

Governments, businesses and financial institutions continue to channel large amounts of money into activities that damage ecosystems, even as they commit themselves to protecting nature.

Changing that pattern, Schomaker said, should be one of the central priorities for COP17.

The discussions in Kunming highlighted a growing understanding that biodiversity loss is not caused only by what happens in forests, rivers and oceans. It is also shaped by decisions made in boardrooms, government ministries and financial institutions.

Participants pointed to subsidies, investments and other financial incentives that continue to make activities harmful to nature more attractive or profitable.

Asad Naqvi, Secretary of the Subsidiary Body on Implementation, said the answer to the biodiversity funding problem may therefore lie partly in changing how existing money is used rather than simply searching for new sources of funding.

He noted that governments are still spending large sums on incentives that undermine biodiversity, particularly through harmful subsidies in agriculture and fossil fuels. Redirecting those resources, he suggested, could help close financing gaps while addressing some of the root causes of nature loss.

Biodiversity Beyond Environment Policy

Finance, however, is only part of the challenge.

The Kunming Dialogue also highlighted the need for governments to treat biodiversity as an issue that cuts across the entire economy, rather than something that belongs mainly to environment ministries.

Agriculture, finance, infrastructure and development ministries all make decisions that can either protect or damage ecosystems. Unless biodiversity is considered in those decisions, governments may find themselves trying to repair environmental damage with one hand while creating more of it with the other.

That broader approach is expected to be an important part of the discussions at COP17.

For many observers, the significance of COP17 will depend on how governments respond to the findings of the State of Biodiversity Action report — and whether they can turn commitments into action faster.

The conference is expected to focus on speeding up implementation, closing finance gaps and tackling the targets where progress remains furthest behind.

As delegates prepare to meet in Yerevan, the debate is moving beyond whether governments support the global biodiversity framework.

With only four years left before the 2030 deadline, bringing finance into line with the needs of nature may become one of the defining tests of the global biodiversity agenda.

IPS UN Bureau Report

Indigenous Kakataibo patrol in the Yamino community forest. A new report titled Collective Power documents the deaths of people who stood against environmental destruction, land grabs, illegal logging, mining projects and other threats to their communities. Credit: Global Witness

By Umar Manzoor Shah
LONDON & SRINAGAR, India, Sep 16 2026 (IPS)

At least 124 land and environmental defenders were killed around the world in 2025 while protecting forests, rivers, farmland and Indigenous territories, according to a new report by Global Witness that warns violence against activists remains widespread even as recorded killings have declined from previous years.

The report, titled Collective Power, documents the deaths of people who stood against environmental destruction, land grabs, illegal logging, mining projects and other threats to their communities. It says the 124 killings recorded in 2025 bring the total number of land and environmental defenders killed or disappeared since Global Witness began tracking such cases in 2012 to 2,375.

While the number of killings fell from 142 deaths and four disappearances documented in 2024, Global Witness cautioned that the decline should not be viewed as evidence that defenders are becoming safer, and onimously, the killing and intimidation have serious consequences for the environment.

“Defenders are the world’s eyes and ears on the ground. It’s thanks to them that we know when ecosystems are being destroyed, where forests are being cleared or rivers polluted,” Toby Hill, land and environmental defenders investigator and lead author, said. “The violence that defenders face, including killings in the most extreme cases, reflects a much broader struggle over the world’s land and resources. But beyond these tragic stories, we can’t forget the thousands of defenders around the world who are working every day to protect their territories and cultures under increasing pressure.”

The report said, “Every one of these deaths represents an attempt, in the most brutal fashion, to impose a chilling effect on movements that resist environmental and human rights abuses. We remember the families, friends and communities who have been left devastated by each attack.”

Researchers argue that the real number of killings is likely much higher because many attacks occur in remote areas, conflict zones and countries where civil society groups face intimidation for reporting abuses. According to the report, difficulties in documenting cases are particularly severe in parts of Africa and Asia, as well as increasingly in Latin America.

The findings reveal a global struggle over land, natural resources and environmental protection, with Indigenous peoples and small-scale farmers bearing the heaviest burden.

Indigenous women walk along a river in the Amazon rainforest. According to Global Witness, Indigenous peoples and small-scale farmers accounted for nearly three-quarters of the land, and environmental defenders killed globally in 2025. The report highlights the growing risks faced by communities defending their lands, livelihoods and ecosystems from environmental destruction and resource exploitation. Credit: Global Witness

Nearly three-quarters of those killed in 2025 were Indigenous people or small-scale farmers defending their land rights and livelihoods. The report found that 47 victims were small-scale farmers and 44 were Indigenous people. Three victims were Afro-descendant defenders.

Among the dead were seven members of Indigenous guard systems, community-based groups that patrol and protect ancestral territories from illegal activities and outside encroachment. In five of those cases, researchers identified links to organised crime, highlighting what the report describes as a growing overlap between environmental conflicts and criminal networks.

Despite this, Indigenous people continue to defend their environments.

“Defending our territory is important to us as a community and as a people, and we’re proud to support the climate that we all depend on. In our culture, the work of defending our resources and territory is taught from an early age. But for this next generation coming up, the work is more dangerous than ever,” Segundo Ispón, commander of Peru’s Kakataibo Indigenous Guard, said.

Global Witness said the killings represent only the most visible form of repression. Beneath them lies what human rights groups call a “hidden iceberg” of threats that include criminal charges, surveillance, harassment, smear campaigns and online abuse.

“Increasingly, social media is weaponised to discredit and harass defenders, eroding public trust and isolating them from their communities,” the report noted.

The organisation suggested that some governments and powerful interests may be relying more on non-lethal forms of repression, which can silence opposition without attracting the international attention that often follows a murder.

The report also highlights a broader deterioration in civic freedoms. Of the 15 countries where killings were documented, 10 were categorised as “repressed” by the CIVICUS Monitor, a global tracker of civic freedoms. Nicaragua was listed in the most restrictive category, described as “closed”.

Asia emerged as one of the regions where environmental defenders face increasing pressure through legal and political means.

A major section of the report focuses on Indonesia, where Dayak Indigenous communities in West Kalimantan have resisted industrial expansion, land grabs and deforestation. According to Global Witness, community leaders and Indigenous defenders have faced criminalisation while attempting to protect forests and customary lands.

The report argues that such cases reflect a wider regional trend in which defenders are increasingly targeted through courts, police investigations and administrative actions rather than direct violence alone. It cites concerns raised by human rights organisations regarding the criminalisation of environmental activism across parts of Asia.

In the Philippines, environmental defenders Jhed Tamano and Jonila Castro are highlighted as examples of activists who continued their advocacy despite legal and political pressure. Their experiences are presented as part of a larger pattern in which defenders face reputational attacks and criminal allegations linked to their activism.

The report also examines Peru, where members of the Kakataibo Indigenous people have developed Indigenous guard systems to protect their territory from growing threats associated with organised crime and environmental exploitation. The movement is presented as an example of collective protection developed by communities that feel abandoned by state institutions.

Across Latin America, which has historically recorded some of the highest numbers of killings of environmental defenders, the report documents continuing violence, disappearances and intimidation.

It revisits the disappearance of Mexican defenders Ricardo Lagunes and Antonio Díaz, whose case has become emblematic of the dangers faced by people challenging powerful economic interests. Three years after their disappearance, United Nations experts were still calling for truth and justice.

The report also highlights the unresolved disappearance of Chilean Indigenous defender Julia Chuñil. According to Global Witness, her family and legal representatives have faced mounting pressure while continuing to seek answers.

“Despite this pressure, Julia’s family continues to fight for truth and justice,” the report said. “They are still searching for their mother, organising protests, pursuing legal challenges and bringing international attention to the case.”

In Nigeria, defenders protecting the Ekuri Forest in Cross River State continued to face intimidation, arrest and detention after speaking out against illegal logging. The report said community leaders were targeted following complaints linked to logging interests but were later released after intervention from environmental organisations and lawyers.

“The arrests were widely viewed as an attempt to silence efforts to defend tropical forests and community forest rights,” the report stated.

The gender dimension of environmental activism also features prominently in the findings. Of the 124 defenders whose deaths were verified in 2025, 109 were men, 14 were women and one was identified as non-binary. However, researchers stressed that women defenders often experience different forms of violence that are less visible but equally damaging.

The report cites data from the Mesoamerican Initiative of Women Human Rights Defenders showing more than 30,000 non-lethal attacks against women defenders in Mexico and Central America between 2012 and 2023. These included harassment, threats, surveillance, psychological abuse and smear campaigns.

The report also expresses concern about the unprecedented fall in foreign aid seen in 2025 – driven by budget cuts by the governments of the United States, Germany, the United Kingdom and other traditional donors – impacting thousands of human rights organisations, drastically reducing the global pool of support to communities acting in the depths of rainforests and other secluded ecosystems.

“The effects of these budget cuts are not abstract. In Colombia, projects working to promote and protect human rights and support defenders have been hit by the sudden drop in foreign aid, particularly from the U.S. When foreign aid retreats, Indigenous Peoples and small-scale farmers can be left with fewer resources and less support as they defend the forests, rivers and other ecosystems that sustain their communities and help keep the global climate stable,” Juliana Vélez Echeverri, a senior campaigner at Global Witness, said.

Global Witness says the solution requires more than investigations into individual killings. The organisation is calling for stronger legal protections for Indigenous peoples, recognition of land rights, accountability for corporations and criminal networks, and greater support for community-led protection systems.

The report argues that environmental defenders are not only protecting local communities but also safeguarding forests, biodiversity and ecosystems that are critical in the fight against climate change. Their work, researchers say, often benefits society far beyond the places where they live.

The publication opens with a dedication to those who continue that work despite the risks.

“This report is dedicated to all those individuals, communities and organisations bravely speaking out or taking action to defend their rights to land and a clean, healthy and sustainable environment,” it says. “Last year, 124 people were murdered for doing this work.”

IPS UN Bureau Report

A delegate walking past a billboard at the Africa Food Systems Forum at Kigali Convention Centre in Rwanda's capital. Credit: Farai Shawn Matiashe/IPS

By Farai Shawn Matiashe
KIGALI, Sep 14 2026 (IPS)

When the African continent experiences erratic rains, crops fail, leaving millions of people facing hunger.

Approximately 95% of Africa’s arable land depends heavily on rainfall, which is vulnerable to climate shocks such as drought.

El Niño-induced drought expected to hit some parts of Africa, particularly southern Africa, is going to worsen the situation.

At the Africa Food Systems Forum in Kigali, Rwanda, governments and development partners are calling for more investment in irrigation systems to reduce dependence on rain-fed agriculture by farmers, including small holders who make up 80% of all farmers in sub-saharan Africa.

Building More Irrigation Systems

Only 5% of Africa’s arable land is under irrigation. Asia irrigates about 7 times more than Africa, as it holds about three-quarters of the entire world’s irrigated land.

“Some irrigation systems have been developed. The task now is to take it to scale,” said Nigeria’s Minister of Agriculture, Senator Abubakar Kyari, at a side event organised by the International Water Management Institute (IWMI). “The technology is there and the workforce is there. What we need is collective action.”

IWMI is a global research organisation addressing water challenges in developing countries, working with governments, civil society, and businesses.

When El Niño hit the southern Africa region in the 2023/2024 agriculture season, it triggered one of the driest mid-seasons in over 40 years. It devastated rain-fed maize production, leaving over 26 million people facing hunger in Botswana, Lesotho, Malawi, Namibia and Zambia.

These countries declared national drought disasters to mobilise resources from the public purse, private sector and humanitarian agencies.

In preparing for the next El Nino, Abubakar said agriculture cannot remain at the mercy of the seasons. He said Africa should sustainably manage and deploy its vast water schemes. “This is not a continent of scarcity but of strategic abundance,” he said. “Our task now is not to apportion blame but to break that cycle.”

Africa holds about 9% of the world’s renewable freshwater systems.

Abubakar proposed the adoption and operationalisation of the African Union Framework on Irrigation Development and Agricultural Water Management to enhance water control and increase farmer-led irrigation. This framework is a continental blueprint published in 2020 to boost food security, adapt to climate change, and modernise agriculture across member states.

Abubakar said there is a need to innovate financing to close the investment gap and to strengthen transboundary water appropriation. “We must move from sharing drops to sharing benefits. Establishment of enforceable cooperative frameworks. To scale up climate-smart irrigation and put farmers at the centre of irrigation development. Also to open opportunities for young people in irrigated value chains,” he said

“We must turn continental commitments into actionable delivery. We have articulated the future we want. We must translate that.”

Policy is key to enabling a working, favourable environment for increasing investment in the agriculture sector.

Speaking at the same event, Vincent Kabuti, Irrigation Secretary in the Ministry of Water, said governments should be able to put in place mechanisms for farmers to hold the government accountable.

He said large commercial irrigation systems are essential in complementing farmer-led irrigation systems.

“We have a lot of water, but it is the investment that we do not have,”

Preparing for the next El Niño

Southern Africa expects the next El Niño in the 2026/2027 agricultural season, according to scientists.

The weather phenomenon was officially declared on 11 June by the US National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration (NOAA). NOAA confirmed that ocean temperatures in equatorial areas of the Pacific Ocean had remained more than 0.5 °C above average for several months.

El Niño occurs when trade winds in the Pacific reverse direction, causing warmer water to flow into central and eastern areas of the world’s largest ocean.

In Africa, it normally brings El contrasting weather extremes, causing severe droughts in southern Africa and heavy, flood-triggering rains across East Africa.

Drier conditions, which scientists are anticipating, are expected to threaten staple crop yields like maize in southern Africa. Reduced food security risks compounding pressure on food price inflation and acute malnutrition among children.

Abubakar said irrigation systems cushion farmers from droughts and boost food security, create jobs and boost the livelihoods of approximately 439 million Africans living in extreme poverty.

Tilahun Amede, a director of Climate Sustainable Productivity and Resilience at Alliance for a Green Revolution in Africa (AGRA), an institution focused on scaling agricultural innovations that help smallholder farmers towards increased incomes, better livelihoods, and improved food security, said countries must integrate water in every aspect of agriculture. “African governments must invest in water and irrigation systems,” he said.

“We also need to create a market for farmers to increase their incomes so that they can adopt irrigation systems.”

IPS UN Bureau Report

Female Students learning wildlife tracking at a conservation leadership camp. Credit: Moreangels Mbizah

By Busani Bafana
BULAWAYO, Sep 9 2026 (IPS)

A 12-year-old male lion slipped out of Zimbabwe’s Hwange National Park one winter morning and killed a 7-year-old boy in a village it wandered into.

The boy, Elton, should have been safe within his village outside Zimbabwe’s largest national park, but a winter morning ended that safety. The lion cut short his life, pushing a grieving community into the centre of a contested frontline: conflict for space between humans and wildlife. The lion was put down.

“That day forever remains etched in my mind, and it’s one of the reasons that led me to form the Wildlife Conservation Action,” says zoologist Moreangels Mbizah, recalling how the morning of April 2014 when she found the lion had killed Elton changed her perspective about wildlife coexisting with people.

“I realised that protecting lions inside the park meant very little if we were not also protecting people living alongside them,” Mbizah said.

Charity Patron, HRH Princess Anne, presented Dr Moreangels Mbizah with a 2026 Whitley Award in April 2026 to expand a coexistence model of conservation in northern Zimbabwe. Credit: Whitley Fund for Nature

Conservation From Tragedy

Wildlife and communities living near or within conservation areas across Zimbabwe fight over habitat and resources.

In 2024, 49 people were killed by wild animals across the country; this number increased to 53 in 2025, according to the Ministry of Environment, Wildlife and Climate. Zimbabwe is currently developing a National Human-Wildlife Coexistence Strategy aimed at curbing human-wildlife conflict.

The country’s parks authority, ZimParks, recently released figures indicating that over the last decade over 12,000 incidents of human-wildlife conflict have been recorded. At that time 486 people were killed with 554 others injured, while more than 4,000 livestock were lost to wildlife attacks.

Human wildlife conflict hotspots in the country include Binga, Hwange, Chiredzi, Hurungwe, Mbire, Muzarabani, Nyaminyami, Chipinge, Gokwe North, Gokwe South, Tsholotsho, Bulilima and Kusile districts. Habitat encroachment, climate change, population growth and inadequate barriers between communities and wildlife have been blamed for the increase in human-wildlife conflict.

Wildlife Conservation Action works in the Nyaminyami and Binga districts, which are part of the Kavango Zambezi Transfrontier Conservation Area (KAZA TFCA). They also work in Mbire district along the border with Mozambique and Mana Pools National Park, a UNESCO World Heritage site with the only floodplain ecosystem left in the Middle Zambezi. The area which also forms part of the Zimbabwe-Mozambique-Zambia (ZIMOZA) TFCA is a human-wildlife conflict hotspot, especially for elephants and lions.

Over the years, villagers in Mbire District who have lost livestock to lions have fought back. Lions have been killed as communities defended themselves and their livestock.

Securing livestock, saving lions

A lion and lioness in the wild. Credit: Moreangels Mbizah

Losing a single cow to a lion is a loss of family income of an average three months in Mbire District. In general people earn an average monthly wage of $108, and a cow sells for an average of $300, said Mbizah, who is among the few Black African women to have founded a conservation organisation.

Many families keep livestock for income and food. For a farmer with just five cows, protecting the animals is also protecting lions – a paradox that got Mbizah thinking.

Mbizah – who, as part of her PhD studies, famously tracked “Cecil the Lion” before it was killed in 2015, sparking global criticism – has used community leadership and low-tech innovation of solar-powered “lion lights” and mobile cattle kraals to protect $2.3 million worth of local livestock.

She said the interventions promoted in the community to reduce human-wildlife conflict are non-lethal and climate smart, such as holistic livestock management, use of mobile bomas, beekeeping and chilli farming, and sustainable agriculture.

“Our programme has been successful because of our relationship with the community and engaging them as guardians for the environment. We looked at the traditional way of kraaling that people have been using for generations and how they can strengthen that so the livestock is protected overnight from lion attacks,” Mbizah said.

Her organisation has helped farmers build lion-proof bomas for their cattle and raised kraals for their goats. These kraaling methods have reduced lion attacks on livestock.

In addition, Community Guardians, whom Mbizah calls the bedrock of her organisation, have been recruited and trained on detecting lions before they attack. Young women and men use specialised equipment which alerts them to lion movements near the community and are able to move the predators away safely.

Ruth Kamuchato, from Mapini Village in Mbire District, says growing up seeing lions attacking livestock motivated her to train as a community guardian. She wanted to understand how it was possible to protect lions and livestock at the same time.

“I feel good about working as a community guardian, but it was difficult in the beginning to appreciate people and wildlife thriving together because of the fear of lions, which are dangerous animals,” said Kamuchato. “When lions kill livestock or threaten people, the first feeling is that animals are our enemy, but after training and working in conservation, I started seeing the bigger picture that lions are not bad – they are just trying to survive too.”

A community guardian installing a lion light monitoring unit. Credit: Moreangels Mbizah

Another Community Guardian, Knowledge Chiriga (31) from Nebiri Village Ward 7, in Nyaminyami District, says protecting lions was a solution to the human-wildlife conflict experienced in his village.

“I grew up in the Nebiri village, which is about 7 km from Matusadonha National Park, and have experienced a lot of human-wildlife conflict since my early childhood, and then I had no hope of finding a programme that would relieve the community from the challenge we had with lions,” Chiriga said, admitting he jumped at the opportunity to train as a community guardian under the Wildlife Conservation Action.

“Lions are part of our ecosystem and our heritage, so protecting them doesn’t mean ignoring danger, but finding ways to keep both people and lions safe,” Chiriga said. “Now I feel proud because I am helping my community to stay safe. With better safety measures we can live alongside lions.”

Lweetelelo Mugande (29) from Chitongo village, Ward 17 in Binga District, said it was difficult in the beginning for the community to accept her role in conserving lions, as some people asked why protect animals that hurt them.

“But over time, as we showed up during conflicts, we helped set up mobile bomas and explained how conservation can bring jobs and support; attitudes started to change,” she said.

“Now many community members call us when there’s a problem. They see that we are from the same village and that we have livestock and families here and that we are trying to find solutions together. Trust is growing, but we still have a lot of awareness work to do.”

Cattle inside a predator-proof mobile boma in Zimbabwe. Credit: Moreangels mbizah

Mbizah received the 2026 Whitley Award for her work in saving lions through a community-led model. The award, recognising conservation leaders across the world, will enable Mbizah to expand the coexistence model of conservation to other districts in the country.

“Local communities have a cultural connection to and respect for the wildlife, but that comes with risks, and this is where the challenge is,” Mbizah tells IPS. “If we can reduce these risks, people can tolerate the presence of wildlife in their communal land. Where there is conflict, people do not want lions because they impact their lives, livelihood and livestock.”

Lion populations in Africa are under threat. Over 90% of their historic range has been lost in recent years. The African lion (Panthera leo) is classified as a threatened species and listed as vulnerable on the IUCN Red List of Threatened Species.

There has been a significant lion population decline of approximately 43% over the past 21 years with an estimated 25,000 individuals remaining in the wild in Africa. The loss of habitat, the decline of prey and human-wildlife conflict, where the lions have been killed in retaliation for livestock losses, are key drivers to the reduction in lion population.

Mbizah highlights the misconception that conservation is separate from development. Her work is at the intersection of conservation and community development.

“We help communities to protect wildlife by improving their livelihoods,” she explained. “If communities are doing well, they are more likely to be involved in conservation and to protect the wildlife around them. We cannot just protect the species without protecting the people that are also protecting these species.”

At a time when Africa’s lion population is threatened, Zimbabwe has maintained healthy populations thanks to its strong conservation programmes. Mbizah’s conservation approach is a model for protecting predators without impoverishing the people who live in its environment.

“Protecting lives and livelihoods ultimately protects lions too,” Mbizah said.

IPS UN Bureau Report

Rodney Bay Marina, Saint Lucia. Rising seas are among the mounting risks for small island states as the world heads towards an expected overshoot of 1.5°C. Credit: Alison Kentish/IPS

By Alison Kentish
CASTRIES, Saint Lucia, Sep 8 2026 (IPS)

The world is now expected to breach the 1.5 degrees Celsius warming limit that small island states have spent years defending as a threshold for survival.

For people in the Caribbean, Pacific and Indian Ocean, the consequences will not begin only when islands disappear beneath the sea. They include saltwater intrusion into freshwater supplies and agricultural land, coral reef loss, more damaging coastal flooding and mounting pressure on already limited resources for recovery and adaptation.

That is the stark warning emerging from the United Nations Environment Programme’s Limiting Overshoot report, launched on September 2. The report examines a future in which average global temperatures rise beyond 1.5°C above pre-industrial levels before, potentially, being brought back down.

The report concludes that the world is now expected to cross the 1.5°C threshold. What is still uncertain is how far above it temperatures will rise, how long they will remain there and how quickly they can eventually be brought back down.

Dr Shobha Maharaj, a Caribbean scientist and one of the lead authors of the report’s Chapter Four, says the expected breach raises a new set of questions for small island states.

“For years, the goal was to avoid crossing 1.5°C. But this report now says very clearly that we are going to cross it,” she said. “The question now is how deep is this overshoot going to go? How long is it going to last? And how do we live through it while we work to bring temperatures back down to 1.5°C?”

No buffer

The Paris Agreement committed countries to pursue efforts to limit warming to 1.5°C. Small island states were among the strongest advocates for the 1.5°C target, arguing that higher levels of warming would pose an existential threat.

“For small islands, it is because we live closest to the thresholds,” Maharaj said. “In a wealthy, temperate country, an additional half-degree of warming would still carry serious costs. But on a small island, it could determine whether a reef recovers or not, or whether an aquifer stays fresh or turns salty for good.”

“There is no higher ground to move to, no deep treasury to draw on and no second reef when one of them dies,” she added. There is no higher ground to move to, no deep treasury to draw on and no second reef when one of them dies.

The danger is not limited to dramatic disasters, she said. Habitability can erode quietly.

“Saltwater can contaminate groundwater and soil. A kitchen garden that has fed a family for generations may stop producing. High tides can reach roads, homes and public infrastructure even on clear days. When reefs die, communities lose not only fish and tourism income but also natural barriers that weaken waves before they reach the shore.”

“None of this requires an island to vanish,” Maharaj said. “Habitability begins to collapse first, quietly, through water, food and the loss of the everyday things that make a place home. By the time submergence becomes the headline, people have often already been forced to leave.”

The report warns that sea-level rise will continue for centuries and that falling global temperatures would not reverse all the damage accumulated during overshoot. Some ecosystem, biodiversity and glacier losses would persist, meaning a return to 1.5°C would not restore the world that existed before the threshold was crossed.

Small Islands, Different Realities

SIDS are often discussed as a single group, but Maharaj cautioned that their circumstances and options differ.

Pacific atoll states face acute threats because of their extremely low elevation and vulnerable freshwater lenses. Some Pacific islands are also experiencing land subsidence, compounding the effects of rising seas.

Several Caribbean states have higher terrain, but much of their population, infrastructure and economic activity is concentrated along narrow coastal areas. Indian Ocean states face their own combination of risks.

“What we share is a structural predicament, narrow room for retreat, limited finances and economies that are exposed to single shocks,” Maharaj said.

But she warned against transferring solutions indiscriminately between regions.

“The right response in Tuvalu, for example, is not automatically the right response in Barbados or the Maldives.”

Adaptation Buys Time, Not Immunity

For decades, adaptation has been presented as the principal defence for countries already living with climate impacts. But the UNEP report says many existing approaches were designed for gradual, one-directional warming, not temperatures that rise, plateau and may eventually decline.

Strategies fixed to one set of conditions could become ineffective or even increase vulnerability as conditions change. The report calls instead for adaptation that is flexible, forward-looking and capable of evolving throughout the different stages of overshoot.

“Adaptation buys time, not immunity,” Maharaj said.

She said the large gap between adaptation planning and implementation may provide a narrow opportunity to revise projects before they are built for conditions they can no longer withstand.

“We have a lot of plans, but many of them have not yet been implemented,” she said. “That gives us a window, although not a large one, to recalibrate those plans for a post-1.5°C world.”

That shift will require money before disasters strike.

Many developing countries are already trying to adapt, recover from extreme events, transform their economies and reduce emissions while servicing heavy debt. Climate finance, Maharaj said, arrives too slowly and is often supplied through loans that add to that burden.

“A disaster drains public funds into emergency response and reconstruction. That leaves less money to reduce the risks posed by the next event, which then hits a weakened country even harder. Each turn of that wheel reduces the very capacity we need to climb out of it.”

Breaking the cycle will require grants, upfront financing and investment in prevention, rather than repeatedly paying to rebuild after losses.

A Deeper Injustice

Overshoot also raises questions of climate justice, particularly for countries with little historical responsibility for the emissions driving warming.

“The harms concentrated during this period, especially those that turn out to be irreversible, fall hardest on the countries least responsible for the emissions that caused them,” Maharaj said.

Maharaj said contributing to the report carried a particular weight for her as a Caribbean scientist.

“For those of us from these islands, 1.5°C was never simply a number on a chart. It was the line we were told represented survival. It was the line at which we were told survival was still possible,” she said. “Now, helping to write the science of what lies beyond that line is a heavy thing, both personally and professionally.”

Crossing 1.5°C, she said, represents “a profound failure of collective will” but not permission to give up.

“How high the peak rises, how long we remain there and how quickly temperatures are brought back down are all still ours to decide,” Maharaj said. “Every one of those choices will be measured in lives and livelihoods here in our region and across small islands.”

For small islands, limiting the overshoot could mean the difference between mounting losses and holding on to the places people call home.

IPS UN Bureau Report

Excerpt:

By James Alix Michel
VICTORIA, Seychelles, Sep 4 2026 (IPS)

There is an older wisdom, quieter than the noise of our times, that whispers a simple truth: we are not the architects of nature, only its guests. Long before there were nations, economies, or even language, there was the pulse of the tide, the patience of coral, the breath of forests exchanging air with the sky. Into that ancient conversation we arrived — late, curious, and forgetful — mistaking our cleverness for sovereignty and our tools for wings.

Yet the sea remembers what we have forgotten. It remembers that every drop of rain has travelled through the roots of trees and the bodies of fish before returning to us as thirst quenched or harvest gathered. It remembers that the reef and the child, the mangrove and the fisherman, the albatross and the sailor, are all verses of the same unfinished poem. To live well is to learn that poem by heart — to know that when one line is silenced, the whole song grows thinner.

And still, something in us reaches further. The same species that learned to read the tides also learned to read the stars. From the first firelit night when a human being looked up and wondered, we have carried within us a quiet, luminous restlessness — a longing to know what lies beyond the horizon, beyond the atmosphere, beyond the reach of our brief lives. It is not vanity that drives this longing, but memory. Perhaps some ancient part of us recognises, in the distant glimmer of a star, a trace of our own origin — the stardust from which our bones were made, the cosmic seed from which life on this small blue world first stirred.

To be human, then, is to live in two directions at once. Downward, into the depths of the sea, where life first learned to breathe. Outward, into the vastness of space, where light itself becomes a form of scripture. Both journeys are acts of reverence. Both remind us that we are neither the centre nor the summit of creation, but its wondering witnesses — creatures endowed with the extraordinary gift of consciousness, and with it, the responsibility to use that gift with humility.

This is the paradox of our species: we are small enough to be humbled by a single wave, and large enough in imagination to send our thoughts across galaxies. We build submarines to touch the ocean floor and telescopes to touch the edge of time. Yet both instruments, in the end, do the same thing — they extend our capacity to wonder. Wonder is the beginning of wisdom, and wisdom is the beginning of care.

Perhaps this is the deepest task of our century: not to choose between protecting our planet and exploring the cosmos, but to understand that the two callings are one. We cannot honour the stars while poisoning the seas. We cannot dream of new worlds while abandoning the one that gave us breath. The reef and the galaxy are written in the same handwriting. To care for one is to prepare ourselves, morally and spiritually, for the other.

Small-island nations know this instinctively. We live at the meeting point of sea and sky, where the horizon is a daily teacher. We understand that fragility and vastness are not opposites but companions — that the smallest coral polyp and the most distant nebula belong to the same continuum of creation. When we speak of protecting the ocean, we are not defending a resource; we are defending a relationship. And when humanity looks upward, dreaming of Mars or of life on some far-off moon, we are not escaping the Earth; we are extending the same longing that first drew our ancestors to the sea.

For those of us shaped by the ocean, this is not philosophy — it is instinct. We have always known that the horizon is not a boundary but an invitation, that the sea is not a possession but a companion, and that the night sky is not empty but full of the same silent kinship that binds us to the coral and the whale.

If humanity can learn, once more, to walk softly among its fellow travellers — on this small blue planet and among the countless worlds beyond — then perhaps our story will not end in exhaustion, but in reverence: the quiet dignity of a species that finally remembered it was never alone, and never was meant to be still.

James Alix Michel, is Former President of the Republic of Seychelles

IPS UN Bureau

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Drylands landscape near Kitui, Kitui County - Kenya. Credit: Axel Fassio/CIFOR

By Éliane Ubalijoro and Salina Abraham
NAIROBI, Kenya, Sep 1 2026 (IPS)

Open a can of something fizzy and the reason the sugar doesn’t separate immediately is gum arabic, tapped by hand from acacia trees across the Sahel. Spray on perfume and the reason the scent is still there at dinner is frankincense, a resin cut from Boswellia trees on the dry escarpments of the Horn of Africa. The fat that gives a chocolate bar its snap may well be shea, gathered and pressed by women in the parkland belt of West Africa. The cashmere jumper came from goats that can only be raised on cold, dry rangelands.

These are drylands. They cover 44 per cent of the planet’s land, hold 44 per cent of the world’s cropland and half its livestock, and two billion people live in them. We have spent decades describing them as empty or unproductive. For a long list of things most of us use without thinking, they are the only places on earth that produce them at all.

It is no secret that our world is becoming hotter and drier. Three quarters of the planet’s land experienced drier conditions in the last 30 years than the previous 30. This year’s El Niño is intensifying fast, compelling the world to look back at what dryland systems already know. Nearly every model now points to a record-strength event: the US Climate Prediction Center puts the odds of a “very strong” El Niño at over 90 per cent for this fall and winter, and a 69 per cent chance it exceeds anything on record since 1950.

Drylands have been living through exactly this kind of shock-and-recovery cycle for generations, and their playbook offers real lessons. Farmers in places that have always been able to count on rain are beginning to face a question that dryland farmers answered generations ago: what do you grow, and how, when the water is not guaranteed?

Dryland systems are the longest-running operating record anywhere of producing value under conditions of scarcity, volatility and shock. These landscapes are home to generations of knowledge on how to thrive with limited water and high variability. This includes practices such as spreading risk across several crops and animals rather than betting the season on one, understanding land closely enough to move livestock before the pressure is too much, and building income that arrives at different times of the year so a bad month is not a ruined one. These are powerful lessons needed now.

Now is the time to listen and learn from dryland communities, practices, and regenerative production models. When this wisdom, data, and experience serve as our foundation, we can transition to sustainable business models and unlock investments to power our future world using knowledge that already exists in the places we have been calling marginal.

Mongolia, the host of the recently concluded UN’s COP17 talks under the Convention to Combat Desertification (UNCCD), is a case in point. Three quarters of Mongolia’s land is already classified as degraded or at risk. However, Mongolian herders supply 40 per cent of the world’s raw cashmere, increasingly innovating to shift away from an extractive model to practices that generate diverse value, from wool to grass-fed meat, examples of what a healthy landscape can offer.

In northern Ghana, the Ojoba Women’s Shea Cooperative processes shea butter by hand in the arid Upper East Region, using a skill passed down through generations. They now supply international buyers including L’Occitane and Lush.

In both instances, the land already had value, and the skills already existed within the communities. What was missing was a route to the market willing to pay for them. These initiatives demonstrate what is possible when investment is designed around the realities and value in drylands.

Investment can take many forms: from financing cooperatives through the shift to new practices; insurance that pays out on rainfall; water and energy infrastructure that keeps a harvest sellable in extreme heat. There is growth potential beyond raw commodities too; processing into oils, powders, waxes compounds the returns. And payments for ecosystem services, from stored carbon, biodiversity and watershed protection, sit alongside that.

Donors like the European Union have already recognised the value of drylands with the €20 million Thrivelands initiative, led by Landscape Alliance, to build the coalitions and action this work needs; including innovations needed to protect and restore land. These innovations range from the tools to monitor and restore soil health accurately to the Land Degradation Surveillance Framework and the Regreening Africa app, which brings this data into the hands of farmers.

But public funding alone cannot unlock the drylands opportunities. Adapting to a drier world means restoring a broken nature finance system and closing the $700 billion finance gap to apply proven expertise across a growing area.

Many companies already depend on drylands through what they source, without having assessed how much of their supply comes from them. For those in the agrifood, textiles, and cosmetics sectors, investing in restoring and protecting these landscapes is a way to stabilise their supply chains, manage growing levels of risk and meet climate goals.

There is also the question of what inaction costs. Investing in drylands agriculture could avert a 12 per cent reduction in global food production over the next 25 years and prevent the release of about 60 per cent of stored carbon.

COP17 is a reminder of how little time is left. The UNCCD finance framework closes in 2030, with 82 per cent of the cumulative need for finance unmet. Time is running out to leverage the lessons from drylands to protect future food security. The gap between what is needed and what is being invested remains enormous.

The landscapes on which our future depends may be getting drier, but they are not devoid of opportunity. With science and innovation that enhances traditional knowledge, they are saturated with opportunities to bolster food security and climate resilience.

Dr Éliane Ubalijoro, chief executive officer of Landscape Alliance
Salina Abraham, Head of Thrivelands, Landscape Alliance

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Closing plenary at UNCCD COP17 in Ulaanbaatar, Mongolia. Credit: Anastasia Rodopoulou/ENB-IISD

By Kizito Makoye
DAR ES SALAAM, Aug 31 2026 (IPS)

When the rains fail across Tanzania’s northern Maasai Steppe, herders drive their cattle farther in search of pasture and water.

Boreholes run low. Cattle lose weight, milk yields fall and families begin selling cows, often their main source of livelihood. If the dry spell persists, herds can die, leaving families facing hunger.

What is happening on the Maasai Steppe is part of a wider debate over how the world’s rangelands should be restored. At the UN desertification summit in Ulaanbaatar, Mongolia, governments backed a $1.2 billion programme to restore rangelands, alongside measures to repair degraded land and prepare for drought.

For African pastoralists, the question is whether that money will reach them before the next drought.

Governments, meanwhile, failed to seal a global drought agreement, pushing the dispute into another round of negotiations in Egypt in 2028.

The consequences are particularly serious in Africa, where millions depend on livestock for food and income. Restoring pasture could help pastoralists survive dry years, but it will not solve the problem if grazing routes disappear, drought warnings arrive too late or funds fail to reach the people managing the land.

“The $1.2 billion Rangelands Flagship Initiative is an important recognition that rangelands are not wastelands or marginal areas,” said Ephraim Mtengeti, Professor of Range Sciences at Sokoine University of Agriculture.

“They are productive ecosystems that support millions of people, livestock, biodiversity and important ecological functions. For Africa, where pastoralism remains central to rural livelihoods, giving these landscapes greater financial and political attention is long overdue.”

The 45 projects sit within a wider $1.3 billion programme covering land restoration and drought measures in 23 countries. About $644.5 million is new finance, while another $216 million had already been confirmed.

The pledge is substantial, but it is small compared with the scale of the funding gap. The UN Convention to Combat Desertification estimates that about $355 billion a year will be needed until 2030 to meet global land-restoration commitments. Current investment is about $77 billion.

That leaves a shortfall of roughly $278 billion a year.

Private finance accounts for only about 6% of restoration investment. Governments and development agencies are therefore looking to blended finance, using public money to make projects that might otherwise appear too risky more attractive to private investors.

Many of the benefits of restoring rangelands, however, are difficult to turn into financial returns.

Peter Bakker, president and chief executive of the World Business Council for Sustainable Development, said companies were willing to invest but needed projects that could make money.

“Business does not lack appetite for resilient supply chains, secure water and productive soil – it lacks bankable projects, credible data and a fair share of the early risk,” he said.

Mtengeti agreed that private investment was needed but warned against judging restoration solely by the returns it could generate.

“The financing gap is enormous, so it is understandable that COP17 is looking towards private capital and blended finance,” he said.

“But investors will naturally look for financial returns, whereas many of the most important benefits of rangeland restoration — water security, biodiversity, carbon storage, food security and social stability — are public goods.”

Rangelands as Economic Infrastructure

Rangelands cover about 54% of the Earth’s land surface and support roughly 2 billion people, including 500 million pastoralists. They provide pasture for livestock while storing carbon, supporting biodiversity and helping regulate water.

Restoration could generate $4 to $6 for every dollar invested, rising to as much as $36 when wider public benefits are included.

Restoring rangelands in Africa cannot simply mean fencing off land or imposing farming models designed for settled communities.

Pastoralism depends on mobility. Herders move livestock as pasture and water shift, sometimes crossing national borders.

“Rangelands cannot be restored effectively by treating them like a conventional agricultural field,” Mtengeti said.

“These are dynamic ecosystems, and pastoral mobility is one of the mechanisms through which livestock production adapts to variable rainfall and pasture availability.”

The pressure on grazing land is also increasing. Farms, roads, conservation areas and settlements are taking up more dryland, leaving less room for herders. During drought, the pressure becomes acute as people and livestock crowd around the few remaining sources of grass and water.

“Drought does not respect political boundaries,” Mtengeti said. “Pastoral systems in East Africa are interconnected, and livestock movements often respond to ecological conditions rather than national borders.”

Who Gets the Money?

COP17 also highlighted a shift towards larger, landscape-wide projects rather than small, isolated conservation schemes.

They include Kenya’s TWENDE programme, locally led adaptation financing across Africa, the $35 million Herding for Health initiative and a $100 million African Development Bank programme covering the Zambezi River Basin.

Scale alone, however, will not guarantee better results. Money can still go astray when land rights are disputed, local authorities are weak or communities struggle to gain access to funds.

“Communities should not be treated merely as beneficiaries of projects designed somewhere else,” Mtengeti said.

“They have knowledge of their landscapes, their grazing patterns and how ecosystems respond to climatic variability. That knowledge must inform the design and implementation of restoration programmes.”

Access to international finance presents another obstacle.

“If international finance remains locked behind complicated procedures that local organisations cannot access, then some of the people most exposed to drought will continue to receive the least support,” Mtengeti said.

The Drought Gap

The failure to agree on a global drought agreement was one of COP17’s biggest setbacks. The issue had already been left unresolved at COP16. Governments remained divided over whether such an agreement should be legally binding, leaving the decision until 2028.

“The postponement of a global drought instrument is disappointing because drought is no longer an occasional shock that communities can simply recover from,” Mtengeti said.

“In many dryland areas, repeated droughts are eroding livestock assets, weakening household incomes and undermining the ecological foundation on which pastoral livelihoods depend.”

Governments do not have to wait for a global agreement. More than 70 countries now have national drought plans, compared with only three in 2013.

COP17 also launched the Drought Resilience Investment Facility, which aims to raise up to $400 million from public and private sources.

Finance will also have to be matched by preparedness. Early-warning systems, reliable data, functioning institutions and water infrastructure are crucial, as is acting before drought develops into a humanitarian emergency.

“Countries should not wait for a global instrument before strengthening their own drought preparedness and investing in anticipatory action,” Mtengeti said.

The deadlock over drought came despite progress elsewhere at the summit.

Joao Campari, global food and agriculture leader at WWF, said the summit had given greater prominence to rangelands, grasslands and nature-positive farming.

“Yet hope alone will not protect nature, limit climate change or put food on the table. COP17 has laid strong foundations, but the focus must now shift to implementation on the ground and supporting local communities to deliver lasting benefits for all,” he said.

Where Will the Money Come From?

Closing the funding gap will also require governments to change policies that continue to undermine land resilience.

The UNCCD estimates that about $2.4 trillion in public finance supports environmentally harmful subsidies. Redirecting even part of that money could dwarf many of the commitments announced in Ulaanbaatar.

Governments must also protect grazing corridors, strengthen community land rights and ensure that the people managing the land receive a meaningful share of investment.

“Healthy rangelands are economic infrastructure,” Mtengeti said.

“They support livestock production, food security, employment, water systems and biodiversity. When these landscapes degrade, the costs are eventually borne by households and governments through livestock losses, food insecurity, humanitarian assistance and environmental damage.”

For pastoralists, the outcome of COP17 points to a basic reality: rangelands cannot be treated as empty land waiting for a more profitable use. They are part of the economic infrastructure on which food supplies, livelihoods and climate resilience depend.

Mtengeti said the summit had moved rangelands higher up the international agenda but that the commitments would need to be followed by action in pastoral areas.

“COP17 should therefore be seen as a step forward, but not as a solution,” he said. “The financing commitments are encouraging, and the greater attention to rangelands is important. But Africa’s dryland communities need action that is predictable, locally grounded and delivered before drought becomes a crisis.”

When governments meet again in Egypt in 2028, the value of the Mongolian pledges will be judged by what has happened in the drylands: whether pasture has recovered, livestock can move safely, communities have gained access to finance and drought losses are falling.

For pastoralists, the pledges will ultimately be measured during the next drought, when they need pasture, water and support to keep their herds alive.
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By James Alix Michel
VICTORIA, Seychelles, Aug 26 2026 (IPS)

Across this vast ocean, the latest monitoring by Mercator Ocean International shows marine heatwave conditions ranging from moderate to severe. At the same time, the World Meteorological Organization expects a strong El Niño to intensify through August to October, with a positive Indian Ocean Dipole also likely to develop. These are not distant scientific signals. They are an urgent warning that the ocean system on which millions depend is under mounting stress.

The Indian Ocean in particular has sustained communities for generations. It provides food and livelihoods, carries trade and travel, shapes our cultures and moderates our climate. It is also one connected living system – its currents carry heat, nutrients, fish (as well as pollution, unfortunately) across borders drawn on maps. Its coral reefs, mangroves, seagrass meadows and open waters support people from the eastern coast of Africa to South Asia, and from the islands of the western Indian Ocean to the Maldives and beyond. When ocean temperatures rise abnormally, the consequences are not confined to a scientific bulletin. They are seen in the health of coral reefs, in the movement and abundance of fish, in the safety of coastal communities, and in the future of tourism and fisheries. They are felt in the weakening of the natural protection that reefs, mangroves and coastal habitats provide against erosion, flooding and storms.

Coral reefs are especially vulnerable. They can sometimes recover from an isolated bleaching event if temperatures fall quickly enough. But repeated bleaching and prolonged heat stress allow too little time for recovery. When reefs deteriorate, the consequences extend beyond biodiversity: fish habitats are lost, shorelines become more exposed, tourism suffers and communities lose part of their natural and cultural inheritance. This is why ocean warming is not simply an environmental issue. It is an issue of food security, jobs, development, economic stability and justice.

For decades, humanity has relied on the ocean’s exceptional capacity to cushion the climate crisis. The ocean absorbs more than 90 percent of the excess heat trapped by greenhouse gas emissions. By doing so, it has moderated atmospheric warming and spared humanity even more severe disruption. But there is a limit to what we can ask of the sea. Small island developing states have contributed little to the cumulative emissions destabilising the global climate. Yet we are among the first to face the consequences. We cannot move our reefs. We cannot relocate our coastlines without immense social and economic cost. We cannot separate the wellbeing of our people and economies from the health of the ocean. For island people, climate vulnerability is not an abstract concept. It is a daily reality.

Still, island states must not be viewed only as victims. We are custodians of extensive ocean spaces, centres of practical innovation and partners in the search for sustainable solutions. Seychelles has tried to demonstrate that economic development and marine conservation need not be enemies. Through marine spatial planning, Seychelles has committed 30 percent of its waters to protection, while advancing a blue economy vision based on stewardship rather than depletion. This is not charity towards nature. It is a recognition that there can be no enduring prosperity if fish stocks decline, reefs deteriorate and coastal ecosystems are damaged beyond recovery.

Across the Indian Ocean, other island and coastal states are also restoring habitats, improving fisheries management, investing in renewable energy, strengthening marine conservation and building more resilient communities. Their efforts deserve recognition and support. They show that those most exposed to climate risk are not waiting passively for rescue. They are protecting a shared ocean heritage, often with scarce resources. But local and regional action cannot substitute for the choices that must be made globally.

First, the world must reduce greenhouse gas emissions much more rapidly. Adaptation is indispensable, particularly for small island developing states. We need stronger early-warning systems, more ocean observation, investment in reef and coastal restoration, secure water supplies and infrastructure designed for a changing climate. But adaptation cannot indefinitely protect an ocean that continues to accumulate heat. No sea wall, restoration programme or emergency plan can replace decisive action to reduce emissions.

Second, climate finance must become fairer, faster and easier to access. Island states should not have to devote years of limited institutional capacity to complex procedures simply to secure support for renewable energy, water security, coastal protection, marine research and ecosystem restoration. Those facing the greatest climate risks require genuine partnership – not delayed promises, burdensome processes and inadequate resources.

Third, the countries of the Indian Ocean must deepen regional cooperation. Marine heatwaves, coral bleaching, illegal fishing, biodiversity loss and coastal erosion do not stop at national boundaries. We need better ocean observation, data-sharing and regional early-warning systems. We need stronger scientific cooperation, responsible fisheries management and coordinated protection of the ecosystems connecting our islands and coasts.

The Indian Ocean should not be seen merely as a corridor for trade or a theatre for geopolitical competition. It is a shared living system, whose health is fundamental to the security and prosperity of everyone who depends on it. The current warming should also remind us that the ocean is not an inexhaustible resource. It has regulated our climate, sustained our communities, supported our economies and linked our peoples for generations. Yet we still behave as though its capacity to absorb our impacts has no limits. It does.

The islands of the Indian Ocean are not asking for sympathy. We are calling for shared responsibility. We know that ocean health is inseparable from the security of our people. We know that protecting nature and pursuing development must go hand in hand. And we know that every year of delay makes adaptation more costly, the damage more severe and the choices before us more difficult. As a result, the Indian Ocean is sounding the alarm. Its islands are among the first to hear it. But the warning is not ours alone. It is for every country whose climate, food security, economy and future depend on a living ocean.

James Michel, is Former President of the Republic of Seychelles

IPS UN Bureau

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Simita Kumar, Education Officer at the Pacific Community (SPC), leads an engaging activity on the biodiversity of intertidal and coral reef ecosystems with young participants at the Veivueti Kids Ocean Conference. Credit: SPC

By Sera Sefeti
SUVA, Fiji, Aug 26 2026 (IPS)

For generations, Pacific children have grown up with the ocean as part of everyday life. It is where families fish, where stories are passed down, where livelihoods begin and where cultures are rooted.

Yet many young people are inheriting an ocean facing pressures unlike anything their ancestors experienced, from warming seas and coral bleaching to plastic pollution and declining marine ecosystems.

In New Caledonia, the ocean is becoming a classroom.

Students are collecting and analysing macro-, meso- and micro-plastics, measuring coastal erosion alongside environmental specialists and removing invasive species. They are also meeting women scientists and ocean professionals, discovering not only the challenges facing the sea but also the many professions and possibilities connected to it.

The work is being led by Comité Égalité pour tous à l’école, an NGO in New Caledonia, in partnership with the Pacific Community (SPC), bringing local ocean issues into student learning through hands-on activities and real-world experiences.

“Our programme raises awareness among young people across the Pacific about the challenges and professions of the sea in all its dimensions, with particular focus on gender equality and highlighting the role of women in ocean-related careers, science, and innovation,” says Véronique Mollot Lehoullier, President of Comité Égalité pour tous à l’école.

The programme began in New Caledonia in 2021 and has since extended to French Polynesia and Vanuatu, with the ambition of developing a model that can be replicated across Oceania.

At its heart is a simple idea: children learn best when they can experience what they are being taught.

For Mollot Lehoullier, the ocean cannot be understood through theory alone.

“It is by discovering ocean-related professions firsthand, meeting women scientists and professionals, and taking part in field trips that students truly grasp the stakes of protecting and valuing lagoon ecosystems,” she says.

“This hands-on approach turns abstract awareness into lasting civic engagement, giving young people concrete role models to identify with girls and boys alike.”

Students at the Veivueti Kids Ocean Conference taking part in an interactive activity at the SPC booth, identifying marine organisms commonly found in tidal zone ecosystems. Credit: SPC

That approach is helping turn ocean education from something children read about into something they can see, touch and experience.

It is also opening a window to futures they may not have previously imagined.

For a young girl, meeting a woman working in marine science or conservation can make an ocean-related career feel possible. For boys, it reinforces that the ocean and the responsibility to protect it belong to everyone.

And the response from students has been striking.

“They don’t watch the clock, and they’re never in a hurry to finish,” Mollot Lehoullier says.

Many students do not want to return to their regular classrooms. Instead, they stay behind to continue speaking with professionals, asking questions and taking part in activities.

“These aren’t theoretical lessons but activities the students are fully part of, so for them it doesn’t feel like work at all, it feels like interactive discovery.”

That sense of discovery is becoming increasingly important as Pacific communities confront a rapidly changing ocean.

For Maëva Tesan, Information, Communication and Knowledge Officer at SPC’s Pacific Community Centre for Ocean Science (PCCOS), strengthening ocean knowledge and ocean literacy in New Caledonia is an important part of that regional effort.

“While many local organisations are already actively working in this field, we have also expanded our involvement this year through several local initiatives, including the Sea Festival and the Science Festival,” she says.

For SPC, partnering with Comité Égalité pour tous à l’école builds on the organisation’s existing role in promoting inclusive education and brings together a shared commitment to raising young people’s awareness of the ocean.

“By working together, we can combine our expertise to strengthen ocean education and inspire the next generation of ocean stewards in New Caledonia,” Tesan says.

The ambition extends beyond one country.

The programme’s reach into French Polynesia and Vanuatu reflects a broader regional approach: building on local initiatives while sharing knowledge, resources and experiences across the Pacific.

Summit participants take part in a hands-on field activity, identifying marine organisms collected for study. Credit: SPC

From New Caledonia to Fiji

Across Fiji, a quiet movement is helping change how the next generation sees the ocean. Children who once viewed the sea simply as a place to swim, fish or spend time with friends are beginning to understand something much deeper: that the future of the Blue Pacific depends on the choices they make today.

For Hannah Nanovu, Whole School Ocean Coordinator at the International School Suva, watching that transformation unfold is one of the most rewarding parts of her work.

“Every year, the students surprise and inspire me through their passion, creativity, and commitment to learning more about the ocean and taking action,” Nanovu says.

“This year, having students travel from Beqa to participate was particularly inspiring, and seeing the conference grow each year, with more schools joining and schools travelling further to be part of it, reminds me that we are building a community of young ocean advocates across Fiji.”

That growing community came together once again at Veivueti Kids Ocean Conference, where students explored the ocean not just through science, but through culture, storytelling, traditional knowledge and hands-on learning.

Since developing its Whole School Ocean Programme in 2018, the International School Suva has used the conference to create a space where students can present research, exchange ideas and discover that every child—regardless of where they come from—has a role in protecting the ocean.

Behind that movement is a broader regional effort led by the Pacific Community (SPC).

Together, these efforts are part of a growing movement to strengthen ocean literacy across the Blue Pacific.

Leotasi Kautu, School Principal from Tuvalu, presents the 3D inundation model of Funafuti, developed by SPC and the Government of Tuvalu, to map flood risk and guide climate adaptation. Credit: SPC

Science that Begins at Home

For many students, science can sometimes feel distant.

Words such as biodiversity, ocean circulation, marine ecosystems and climate change can remain confined to textbook concepts to memorise, rather than realities that surround them.

But the Pacific offers a different classroom.

For SPC, this connection between knowledge, place and lived experience is central to strengthening ocean literacy across the region.

“Pacific communities have a deep cultural and traditional connection to the ocean, but more can be done to increase knowledge about ocean ecosystems, the challenges they face, and how we can protect them,” says Doreen Tuala, Team Leader for Curriculum and Assessment at SPC.

“The best place to start addressing this need is through education, especially by engaging young people.”

The challenge and the opportunity is that there is no single Pacific classroom.

The region encompasses hundreds of islands, diverse cultures and languages, different education systems and communities whose relationships with the ocean vary from one place to another.

That means ocean education cannot simply be copied from one country to the next.

Instead, regional approaches need to create space for local knowledge, culture and experience.

Students can investigate the health of coral reefs they know, explore the importance of mangroves to their communities, examine fisheries that support their families and learn about coastal changes occurring around them.

They can also learn from elders and communities, recognising that Pacific peoples have long understood the ocean through observation, experience and generations of lived knowledge.

Tuala says connecting learning to students’ everyday lives gives them an opportunity to investigate issues that are not abstract, but immediate.

These include coral reef health, sustainable fisheries, coastal erosion, marine pollution and the impacts of climate change.

“When students can connect what they are learning to their everyday lives, local environments and cultural knowledge, they are better able to understand these challenges and explore solutions,” she says.

From Learners to Ocean Guardians

Recognising that ocean stewardship begins long before adulthood, SPC is strengthening its regional commitment to ocean literacy through partnerships, education initiatives and practical learning.

Its work includes strengthening science education through a partnership with National Geographic Pristine Seas, expanding locally relevant teaching materials through the EQAP Ocean Literacy Resources Repository, and supporting practical learning experiences such as Fiji’s Veivueti Kids Ocean Conference.

Together, these initiatives are helping bring ocean literacy into Pacific education in ways that reflect the realities of Pacific children.

“Through this partnership, we are bringing together scientific expertise, educational resources and regional networks to support countries in integrating ocean literacy into education systems,” Tuala says.

The partnership combines SPC’s curriculum expertise with National Geographic Pristine Seas’ experience in marine science, exploration and conservation.

But ambition goes beyond lesson plans.

It is about helping close a long-standing gap in structured ocean education that reflects Pacific realities allowing children to learn about marine environments through ecosystems, examples, cultures and experiences they recognize as their own.

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Photo highlighting the activities and successes of the 'Promoting Nature-based Solutions for Land Restoration while Strengthening National Monitoring Technical Working Group in Kenya: Phase 2' project funded by UK PACT. Credit: Anthony Ochieng/CIFOR-ICRAF

By Lulseged Tamene Desta and Cargele Masso
NAIROBI, Kenya, Aug 26 2026 (IPS)

Several coalitions exist today to defend the territories in which people live and work. Global leaders have long understood the importance of shared responsibility for collective security and have invested significant time in establishing networks, partnerships and alliances. In 2025, global spending on defense reached a record $2.9 trillion.

But the global community is increasingly recognizing that today’s gravest existential risks arise from a war being waged against nature itself – and our defenses are woefully fragmented and underfunded. The world is investing only about $220 billion a year for nature-based solutions, compared to $7.3 trillion for nature-negative activities.

This is not just a discrete, isolated environmental concern. The triple planetary crises of land degradation, biodiversity loss and climate change are worsening food insecurity, water scarcity and ecosystem collapse, threatening millions of lives.

Collectively, the impact of the ongoing assault on nature is amplifying conflict, worsening migration, driving inflation higher, and fomenting geopolitical instability. Unless restoration and sustainable management of resources is in place, the world is expected to lose more than US$23 trillion by 2050, while halting this trend would cost around $4.6 trillion.

Many solutions to these interconnected crises exist but have been ineffective to date. Limited coordination and collaboration between countries, sectors and disciplines, as well as insufficient resources and short-term approaches to long-term challenges, mean we are far behind the UN’s Sustainable Development Goals. Despite compelling evidence of the costs of degradation, investment remains far below what is needed because opportunities are rarely presented as credible, investable propositions.

To change this, two things must happen. First, governments, international agencies, academia and civil society must unite through a grand coalition to bring together those currently working in isolation to achieve greater impact than the sum of their parts – a kind of mutual pact to protect nature.

Photo highlighting the activities and successes of the ‘Promoting Nature-based Solutions for Land Restoration while Strengthening National Monitoring Technical Working Group in Kenya: Phase 2’ project funded by UK PACT. Credit: Anthony Ochieng/CIFOR-ICRAF

And second, this grand coalition must also engineer a funding paradigm shift from focusing on environmental challenges to investing in the many opportunities of conservation and restoration.

The ongoing UN COP17 desertification talks in Mongolia, where the theme is “Restoring Land, Restoring Hope”, is the perfect opportunity to progress this.

Evidence shows that integrated approaches to address landscape degradation solve multiple interconnected challenges.

For example, investment in soil and water conservation in the Adarsha watershed in southern India has been found to improve water availability, agricultural productivity, and rural livelihoods. Analysis showed that yields of maize intercropped with pigeonpea increased by 148% while households in the watershed were less affected by droughts compared to those in the non-watershed area.

In Kenya and Tanzania, the adoption of Participatory Rangeland Management improved rangeland condition and resilience to climate shocks for more than 90% of participating communities.

Despite evidence from these successes, these interventions are not being invested in and applied at the scale needed to transform the world’s food, land and water systems in ways that can build long-term, far-reaching resilience.

Countries, donors, financing institutions and civil society must come together in a grand coalition to direct the coordination, governance and investment necessary to tackle these crises where they all interconnect: at the landscape level.

A grand coalition would offer a dedicated focal point to integrate and advance the UN’s goals for climate, biodiversity and land degradation, allowing for stronger coordination and shaping the global agenda for informed decision-making. Critically, the coalition would lead the redirection away from ineffective, siloed solutions and the self-defeating environmental trade-offs they create.

A grand coalition would also create a platform for establishing the rigorous systems of governance essential to achieving global goals for nature, including fair and inclusive land tenure and governance over water systems. Understanding the true cost of landscape governance and inaction is instrumental for adequate investments.

Lastly, a grand coalition would gather the evidence to help shift the emphasis of finance for nature towards investments that benefit everyone. By identifying a menu of options for turning grand challenges into grand opportunities, the coalition would unlock the financing from banks, donors, philanthropies and other development funders needed to scale interventions globally.

The UNCCD COP17 talks in Mongolia is not just an opportunity to address the challenges facing land. It’s a moment to foster unity around a shared threat to all of our territories. CGIAR and its partners will play its part by developing an investment plan to anchor greater coordination in collaboration with the grand coalition of action for shared human and planetary outcomes.

Landscapes are where our greatest environmental and human challenges today are playing out, from declining biodiversity to the deforestation driving climate change, to increasing levels of food insecurity.

Investing in multifunctional landscapes through a unified global coalition, therefore, is not simply an environmental imperative for the world, but also a strategic one. Galvanizing support for landscape-centered solutions can simultaneously reduce future risks and strengthen economies and communities.

A global coalition for restoring and protecting landscapes would recognize a defining reality of the 21st century: protecting nature is fundamental for protecting us all.

Dr. Lulseged Tamene Desta, is Director of the CGIAR Multifunctional Landscapes Science Program
Cargele Masso, is Director of the CGIAR’s Environmental Health and Biodiversity Impact Area Platform

IPS UN Bureau

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