Members of Smallholder Farmer Alliance in Haiti with first harvest of regenerative cotton. Credit: Thomas Norielle/SFA

By Hugh Locke
NEW YORK, Oct 2 2026 (IPS)

In November 1952, the United States detonated the world’s first thermonuclear device at Enewetak Atoll in the Marshall Islands. The test, code-named Ivy Mike, erased the island of Elugelab and scattered a signature of plutonium across the planet that remains in lake beds, ice sheets and ocean sediments today.

This month, scientists writing in Nature Reviews Earth & Environment proposed this moment as the start of the Anthropocene, a geological epoch shaped by human activity. Co-author Victor Galaz of the Stockholm Resilience Centre called the date “a tragic reminder of the highly unjust impacts of planetary change.”

I take that proposal seriously, because it carries hope as well as warning, and it connects to the argument of my new book, Whole Earth Farming.

Hugh Locke

The idea of the Anthropocene was popularized in 2000 by Nobel laureate Paul Crutzen. In 2020, a paper in Nature found that human-made materials now outweigh all living things on Earth. Yet in 2024, the International Union of Geological Sciences declined to formally recognize the Anthropocene. Officially, we are still in the Holocene.

The new paper, led by Jan Zalasiewicz, Colin Waters and Martin J. Head, draws on 12 stratigraphic records worldwide and identifies the 1952 rise in plutonium as the clearest marker of the new epoch. Whatever the geologists decide, the substance stands: human beings have become a force of planetary consequence.

Nobody set out to launch a new geological epoch. The Anthropocene is the unintended result of billions of decisions about energy, industry, consumption and land use. That is sobering. It is also, strangely, encouraging.

If humanity can alter the chemistry of the atmosphere without meaning to, then we are clearly capable of transformation at planetary scale. The only question is whether we can do it on purpose, in a direction that heals rather than harms.

Galaz’s point about injustice matters too. The Marshall Islanders had no say in what happened at Enewetak, yet bore its consequences. Those who contributed least to planetary change are often hit hardest, among them the world’s smallholder farmers. Any real transformation must put them at the center.

There are some 475 million smallholder farming families in the world, roughly one quarter of humanity, and yet they are largely absent from conversations about the future of food and climate.

Whole Earth Farming argues that these families could lead an agricultural revolution. It draws on 21 farmer stories from 18 countries and on decades of work, including in Haiti, where I co-founded the Smallholder Farmers Alliance. Its central argument is that if half the world’s smallholders adopted regenerative practices, they could produce all the additional food needed by 2050 while reducing agriculture’s net climate impact.

There is a fitting symmetry here. The Holocene began with a climate stable enough for humans to start farming. The Anthropocene could likewise coincide with a new global agricultural movement, one that restores the land rather than depleting it.

The changes of the 1950s spread without any global plan, as new tools and habits moved from place to place until they gathered their own momentum. A regenerative transformation can spread the same way: through practices that work, farmers who see them working on a neighbor’s land, and the support to adopt them.

The farmers in the book are already rebuilding soil, planting trees alongside crops and restoring water cycles. What they lack is not ingenuity but recognition, investment and connection to one another.

I once suggested that the historical epoch now taking shape will one day be named for the moment we began to reorganize ourselves around the principle of oneness. I still believe that.

The Anthropocene is, in one sense, the geological record of our failure to see ourselves as one people sharing one planet. A regenerative transformation led by smallholders would be the opposite: a practical expression of oneness, rooted in the recognition that the health of the land, the wellbeing of the farmer and the future of humanity are inseparable.

If a single morning in 1952 can mark a new chapter in the Earth’s geological history, then surely the choices of hundreds of millions of farming families can mark a new chapter in human history. We have already proven that we can change the planet. Now it is time to prove that we can do so with intention, with justice, and with the whole Earth in mind.

Hugh Locke is president and co-founder of the Smallholder Farmers Alliance, 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

Excerpt:

Nurunnahar, 45, is always afraid of the tide. Early warning of the tide helps her prepare. Photographed at Jhapali village in Shyamnagar upazila (sub-district) of Satkhira district, Bangladesh. Credit: Rafiqul Islam Montu/IPS

By Rafiqul Islam Montu
SHYAMNAGAR (Satkhira), Bangladesh, Oct 1 2026 (IPS)

Villagers rush to the vulnerable spot of the embankment—early warning of the rising tide has alerted them. Together, they save the village from tidal flooding by repairing the vulnerable embankment, which is at risk from the impact of low pressure in July this year. The message is clear: early warnings of the rising tide save lives and property.

This wasn’t always the case. Cyclone Amphan in 2020 and Cyclone Yaas in 2021 destroyed the embankment in question, which is located in Datinakhali village, Burigoalini Union, Shyamnagar sub-district, Satkhira district, southwestern Bangladesh. But there was no early warning of the rising tide at that time, and the cyclone caused extensive damage.

Every year during the monsoon, the pressure of tidal water in various parts of the Bangladeshi coast breaks or overflows the embankment. This causes extensive damage to homes, resources, and crops. Many displaced families have been forced to move elsewhere after facing severe losses.

“Real-time area-based tidal surge warnings are helping us in disaster preparedness, saving resources and lives. We can take necessary measures to protect ourselves before the tidal surge. But we have faced losses again and again because we did not have this opportunity before,” explained Meherun Nesa, 45, a resident of Kalbari village in the Shyamnagar sub-district of Satkhira district. Rokeya Begum, 40, Sakina Begum, 39, and many others shared the same opinion.

The United Nations has set the goal of Early Warning for All by 2027 to save people from disasters. On the other hand, a new UN report published on August 31, 2026, says that more than 14 million people in the South Asian delta region are at risk of losing their shelter due to rising sea levels.

Their homes will be permanently submerged. Bangladesh is one of the countries at risk. It is crucial that updated disaster warnings reach people like Meherun Nesha, who live in disaster-prone areas of the country.

This house in Anuliya village in Asashuni upazila (sub-district) of the Satkhira district, Bangladesh, was swept away by tidal water pressure in April 2025, before there was a cyclone warning system. Credit: Rafiqul Islam Montu/IPS

Early Warnings Protect Against Tides

Early warnings were given in 25 places during low sea levels in July, August, and September this year about the risk of breaking embankments or overflowing embankments. After receiving the warnings, villagers repaired the embankments in the two most vulnerable places.

In other places, villagers have also carried out additional preparatory work. Now, people living on the coast can know in advance whether the tide will rise or whether the embankments will collapse under the pressure of the tide. By getting warnings, they are able to prepare themselves and save resources.

Artificial Intelligence (AI)-based scientific early warnings are also protecting the coastal people of Bangladesh from major disasters like tidal waves and embankment collapses. This technology is capable of providing accurate forecasts three days in advance of the cyclone.

The technology provides advance information about the location of potential tidal waves, water height, flooded areas, and vulnerable embankments. Through these capabilities, meteorologists and disaster management professionals can make quick decisions. Disaster management professionals hope that the technology will further enhance Bangladesh’s capacity to deal with disasters and will play an effective role in reducing losses.

The country currently provides cyclone forecasts, but being port-based or large area-based, these forecasts do not cover specific areas. These forecasts can’t accurately identify the specific location of tidal waves, potential water height, or flooded areas. To overcome this limitation, a scientific model has been developed with international cooperation, which is known as ‘Surf IT.’

The international organization Action Against Hunger and North South University are working jointly under the leadership of Bangladeshi non-governmental organization Uttaran to combat the disaster. Technical assistance is provided by the Bangladesh Meteorological Department (BMD), Flood Forecasting and Warning Center (FFWC), Water Development Board (BWDB), and Department of Disaster Management (DDM). The International Development Research Center (IDRC) provides financial support for the project.

How Does ‘Surf IT’ Work?

The model works by combining tides, temperature, and wind speed. It is combined with local knowledge. It involves marginalized communities in the project area. The model has been developed following the experience of weather forecasting systems in the European Union and the United States.

It not only measures the height of the tidal wave but also analyzes the condition of coastal embankments, their load-bearing capacity, and where the embankments are at risk of failure, and creates a map of flooded areas. Water sensors are constantly monitoring the river system and quickly detect any changes in water levels. Dams have been mapped to identify vulnerable areas and potential breach sites.

A digital dashboard has been created to convert complex data into simple and effective warnings. These help in providing forecasts. The information is sent to marginalized communities in local languages. It is sometimes sent via voice calls and sometimes via text messages. It is sent in such a simple language that anybody can access the message from any mobile phone.

According to the researchers, the latest test has shown that the model’s predictions are about 98 percent accurate. Work is underway to make it 100 percent accurate. Therefore, the model was tested at the field level in June, July, August, and September this year.

The project plans to transfer the technology to the government for use in the national disaster forecasting system. Currently, the project covers about 500,000 people in 20 unions across 3 sub-districts in 2 districts in southwest Bangladesh. The sub-districts are Shyamnagar, Asashuni in Satkhira district, and Koyra in Khulna district.

Will Reduce Loss and Damage

Md Jakariya, head of the ‘Surf IT’ technical team and professor in the Department of Environmental Science & Management at North South University, said, “One of the goals of the project is to reduce damage not only from major cyclones but also from regular very high tides and small tidal waves. Usually, even in the absence of major government assistance, people in coastal villages suffer a lot. The project has been initiated to reduce that damage.”

Discussions with the government are ongoing.

“This modern model is now final. Regular policy-making meetings are being held with high-level government officials to increase its effectiveness. The model is capable of predicting disasters three days in advance,” Zahid Amin Shaswat, Head of Program at the NGO Uttaran, which implements ‘Surf IT,’ said.

The advantage of this technology is that it goes beyond forecasting.

“Cyclone forecasting alone is not enough in coastal risk management; accurate information about the location, height, and potential flood areas is the most important thing in protecting human lives and property. Therefore, if such a technology based on scientific information can be effectively implemented, early evacuation of people to safe places, dam protection, and decision-making by local administration will be more realistic,” Environmentalist Sharif Jamil said.

Bangladesh in the Face of Disasters

Disasters like cyclones, floods, and heat waves are increasing in Bangladesh. Recently, coastal marginalized communities are facing loss and damage due to the impact of high tides.

In the latest long-term Global Climate Risk Index (CRI) published by Germanwatch, Bangladesh ranks 13th among the most vulnerable countries in the world. The World Bank has expressed concern that 216 million people will be internally displaced in six regions of the world by 2050 if necessary measures are not taken to prevent climate change. Of these, 40 million people will be displaced in South Asia. In South Asia alone, 19.9 million people are expected to be displaced in Bangladesh.

A recent joint study by the Internal Displacement Monitoring Centre (IDMC) and the Refugee and Migratory Movements Research Unit (RMMRU) says that more than 21 million people were displaced due to cyclones, floods, and tidal waves in Bangladesh between 2008 and 2025.

Meanwhile, in July this year, Disaster Management and Relief Minister Asadul Habib Dulu informed the National Parliament that floods and cyclones have caused Tk 41,200 crore (about US$ 3.3 million) in damage in the country over the five years from 2021 to 2025.

“In addition to major disasters, disasters like sudden high tides cause extensive damage to rural villages. Here, technology is being combined with the long-standing experience and folk knowledge of local people. Through this approach, it is possible to predict more accurately which dams are weak, where the risk of collapse is high, and where water can overflow,” added Md Jakariya.

Experts involved in the project hope that accurate early warning will ensure the safety of coastal people and reduce the risk of cyclones and tidal waves due to climate change. At the same time, the project will further strengthen Bangladesh’s capacity in disaster management.

On the ground people from marginalized communities, like Meherun Nesa, find hope in this message from experts.

IPS UN Bureau Report

From a distance, an island nation can appear to possess everything: pristine waters, a thriving tourism industry and a strong cultural identity. Its income figures may suggest prosperity.

James Alix Michel

This is the paradox confronting small island states. We are judged by what we earn on paper, while our future is shaped by what we must endure in reality. President Dr Patrick Herminie of Seychelles brought this question to the United Nations this month, urging international finance to “measure reality correctly”. He called for affordable, accessible, long-term finance, meaningful debt relief and effective implementation of the Multidimensional Vulnerability Index (MVI).

His appeal continues a case Seychelles has made for many years.

In 2009, Seychelles warned at the United Nations that small economies were especially exposed to global economic instability and the impacts of climate change. In 2013, it called for financing mechanisms and concessional conditions tailored to small island developing states. In 2015, it argued that attaining a higher-income classification should not automatically exclude an island nation from concessional support. The message has remained consistent: development gains do not erase structural vulnerability.

For too long, eligibility for grants and affordable loans has depended heavily on GDP or gross national income per capita. Income matters, but it cannot tell the whole story. It reveals little about a country’s exposure to shocks or its capacity to recover. A small state must maintain ports, airports, hospitals, schools, power systems, water supplies and coastal defences with a limited population and tax base. It may depend on one or two sectors, such as tourism or fisheries. When global prices rise or supply chains fail, the consequences can be felt across the entire nation at once.

This is not an argument against sound national management. It is an argument for recognising realities that good management alone cannot remove. Countries may graduate from an income category; they do not graduate from geography, climate exposure or limited economic scale.

Nor is this a Seychelles concern alone. From the Caribbean to the Pacific and across the Indian Ocean, island countries have long pressed for international finance to reflect vulnerability rather than income alone. Barbados has advocated measures that better capture vulnerability and resilience, while the Alliance of Small Island States has argued that the financial system must recognise the distinctive circumstances of its members. There is a shared understanding here: a prosperous-looking average can hide a profoundly fragile foundation.

The MVI offers a way to make that foundation visible. It is intended to complement, not replace, income measures by assessing structural vulnerability and resilience across economic, environmental and social dimensions. It asks decision-makers to look beyond a single number towards the pressures an island country faces: remoteness, economic concentration, disaster risk, climate exposure and the limited room to absorb shocks.

In August 2024, the UN General Assembly adopted Resolution 78/322 on the MVI, an important recognition that national income alone is an inadequate guide. But adoption is only the beginning. An index will not protect a coastline, keep a hospital open or help a family recover after a storm unless it changes financing decisions. Will lenders and development partners use it to widen access to concessional finance? Will it help countries obtain adaptation funds before disaster strikes? Will it inform debt arrangements that leave governments room to protect essential services after a crisis?

That is the true test of the international community’s commitment. A fairer system would provide more grants and affordable long-term finance for resilience. It would include clauses that pause debt repayments after major disasters. It would treat coastal protection, water security, renewable energy and the restoration of reefs and mangroves as essential investments, not discretionary extras to be considered only when funds remain.
We know the price of waiting. When a storm destroys infrastructure, a country may have to borrow to rebuild what it could not afford to protect. Debt then limits future investment, leaving it more exposed to the next shock. Financing resilience in advance can break that cycle. It protects lives, public finances and development gains. This is not charity; it is sound economics.

The question also reaches beyond island states. Across the developing world, countries facing climate shocks, volatile markets and heavy debt are too often assessed through indicators that overlook their lived circumstances. When scarce public money goes towards expensive borrowing instead of health, education or adaptation, the poorest communities bear the greatest cost. A financial system that responds only after calamity is neither efficient nor just.

Seychelles has voiced this concern since 2009, and President Herminie’s appeal shows why it remains urgent. The MVI gives the world an opportunity to turn recognition into action. Those who govern international lending must now decide whether vulnerability will matter when resources are allocated, not merely when speeches are delivered.

An island is more than an income figure. It is a society, a culture, an ecosystem and a future, living close to risks often created far beyond its shores. To measure that reality correctly is the beginning of fairness. To finance it fairly must follow.

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

IPS UN Bureau

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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‘Art is the only weapon that doesn’t hurt or kill’ CIVICUS Lens | Interview with Tara Abdullah 17.Sep.2026
‘Art has proven itself the one thing that can reach the world and stir it into action’ CIVICUS Lens | Interview with Iman Aoun 14.Sep.2026
‘Thanks to art, climate change stops being a distant issue – it becomes personal, immediate and visceral’ CIVICUS Lens | Interview with Nicola Haskins 17.Sep.2024

By Oritro Karim
KATHMANDU, Nepal / NEW YORK, United States , Sep 25 2026 (IPS)

On August 26, 2026, deadly flash floods and landslides ripped through Himalayan towns and villages along Nepal and Tibet’s border, devastating communities. The United Nations estimates that in Nepal’s worst-affected districts of Rasuwa and Nuwakot, 157,050 women and girls are directly or indirectly impacted.

Ranjeeta Silwal

Climate change, melting glaciers and Nepal’s catastrophic floods

Shortly after 8:30 am, a catastrophic avalanche of glacial ice and bedrock roughly two square kilometres in size plunged thousands of metres into the river below, triggering a lethal flood of water, ice, rock and sediment. Travelling over 200 kilometres from Tibet into Nepal, the raging torrent swept away people, animals, homes, schools, roads, bridges and other key infrastructure.

World Weather Attribution explains that human-caused climate change is thawing permafrost in the Himalayan mountains and causing glaciers to melt, likely destabilising the slopes that triggered this humanitarian and environmental disaster.

At the time of writing, over 1,450 people are confirmed dead and more than 8,000 remain missing, with only a fraction of bodies identified and returned to their families. Nepal’s National Child Rights Council and Save the Children have reported that over 1,000 children are in temporary shelters without any parents, many of whom are dead or missing.

Ranjeeta Silwal explains how Nepal’s floods have put women and girls at greater risk

“While temporary shelters can be life-saving, if they aren’t designed with gender protection considerations from the outset, they can create new risks associated with overcrowding, lack of privacy, separation from family and community support networks, and limited access to confidential mechanisms for reporting violence. Without safe, accessible toilets, adequate lighting, privacy and safe pathways, women and girls may face risks simply when using the toilet or bathing, particularly at night.

“Systems that would normally prevent and respond to violations, like health and social services, police, courts and local communities, may be damaged or inaccessible. When authorities are focused elsewhere or are themselves absent because of disaster, the risk of violence, exploitation and other abuse increases exponentially.

“Women who are pregnant or breastfeeding, women in poverty or from rural communities, those with disabilities, widowed and single women, and women-headed households may face additional barriers in accessing services, facilities and information following natural disasters. Adolescent girls can be especially affected because they have less mobility, less access to information and limited decision-making power.

“We need to ask: who can move safely, who has privacy, who can access food and water, who has information and safety networks? These are not additional considerations; these are basic requirements of a rights-based humanitarian response.

“The emergency doesn’t end when flood water recedes, as the secondary impacts can continue for months, even years. When families lose their house, their income and support networks, women and girls become more exposed and vulnerable to sexual violence, intimate partner violence, sexual exploitation, trafficking and child marriage. We need to understand that protection from gender-based violence must be part of the emergency response; it is not something that can wait until reconstruction begins.”

How does the climate crisis increase the risk of child marriage?

“Nepal has made important legal and policy commitments by raising the legal age of marriage to 20 for both women and men and pledging to end child marriage by 2030. Despite this, child marriage remains an ongoing problem. An Equality Now report on child marriage in South Asia explains how poverty, insecurity and lack of access to education are key factors, and the flood in Nepal has amplified all of these, especially for families who’ve lost their homes, agricultural land, livestock and incomes.

“Climate resilience and ending child marriage cannot be treated as separate agendas. As climate-driven disasters become more frequent and severe, the economic pressures on families can intensify, changing how they view a girl’s future.

“When a family is displaced, or a school is destroyed, returning to education can be extremely difficult. Families who’ve lost everything may be unable to afford transport, uniforms or supplies, and girls may be expected to take on additional domestic and care responsibilities. Parents can see marriage as a way to reduce household costs or provide daughters with perceived economic and physical security.

“Once a girl leaves school, the risk of child marriage, early pregnancy, exploitation, child labour and economic dependence increases. So schooling must be part of emergency responses, with displaced children given access to education as soon as possible. Families need social protection, livelihoods, education, food, housing and other essential support so they don’t turn to child marriage as a coping mechanism.”

What should recovery and reconstruction after the floods look like in Nepal?

“Across South Asia, many women depend on agriculture and natural resources while having less control over land, assets and finance. When natural disasters destroy agricultural land, inequalities deepen. A woman who has lost her livelihood and independent income may become more economically dependent on a partner or other household members, making it far harder to leave an abusive situation or challenge exploitation.

“Recovery should mean more than simply rebuilding what existed before. The first step should be a gender-responsive needs assessment, and plans to restore livelihoods must consider who controls assets and income, and how recovery can strengthen women’s economic security and autonomy. Crucially, recovery policies must be deliberately designed to reach women directly.

“Support can take many forms, including cash assistance, help to restore land and housing documentation, and direct access to compensation, recovery grants, credit and financial services. It should also include skills development, employment opportunities and investment in climate resilience. Unpaid care work is often overlooked, despite increasing significantly following disasters. Women looking after children, older people and injured family members have less time to rebuild their livelihoods, so recovery efforts must address this burden.

“Women and girls are not just victims of climate change. They are also agents of change, knowledge holders and decision-makers. We must ensure women’s meaningful participation in recovery decisions, and they shouldn’t only be consulted on plans that have already been developed. They need meaningful influence over what is rebuilt, where it is rebuilt, and how resources are allocated in the short and long term.”

About Ranjeeta Silwal, South Asia Regional Representative, Equality Now

Ranjeeta Silwal is a human rights lawyer, advocate and programme leader. She has recently joined international women’s rights organisation Equality Now as their South Asia Regional Representative. Licensed to practise law in Nepal, Ranjeeta has represented survivors before UN human rights mechanisms, contributed to strategic litigation, and led advocacy to reform discriminatory laws and advance accountability. Her work has focused particularly on gender-based violence, discrimination, sexual and reproductive health and rights, and strengthening legal protections and access to justice for all women and girls.

IPS UN Bureau Report

Excerpt:

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

Credit: Amanda Cotton / Ocean Image Bank

By Gareth Johnstone and Jan Thomas Odegard
OSLO, Norway, Sep 24 2026 (IPS)

As Norway undertakes Vendepunkt, or “Turning Point,” its reflection on the future of Norwegian development policy, it is critical that oceans remain a priority. Donors around the world are running similar audits, deciding which long-term partnerships to keep, and why. Norway has decades of expertise to offer, but also something significant at stake: healthy and well-governed oceans underpin food, livelihoods and economic activity in partner countries while supporting global seafood supply chains in which Norway itself participates.

West Africa demonstrates what sustained investment in oceans can achieve. More than a decade of cooperation on illegal fishing has helped countries strengthen their own capacity to monitor and protect their waters. But the ocean cannot be managed country by country. Fish stocks are shared, vessels move across borders, and climate change is shifting marine resources into new waters. Strong national capacity must therefore be matched by the ability of countries to cooperate.

That cooperation depends on the relationships between countries that allow information to be shared, trust to develop and authorities to act together. These relationships are not simply a by-product of capacity building. They are essential development infrastructures particularly when the resources being protected cross borders.

Gareth Johnstone

The connection between West Africa and Norway makes this tangible. Fish caught off West Africa enters international supply chains as fishmeal and fish oil, including feed used in aquaculture thousands of kilometres away. A fish caught off Guinea-Bissau can ultimately help feed a salmon in a Norwegian fjord. In one investigation supported by TMT, authorities took action against the factory vessel TIAN YI HE 6 after it received fish from a Turkish-flagged vessel, with the resulting fishmeal transported onwards to international markets. The case resulted in fines for unauthorized fishing operations, illegal transshipment and obstruction of inspectors.

Jan Thomas Odegard

Technology has transformed what fisheries authorities can do. An inspector can now examine a vessel’s movements and history before deciding whether it should enter port. Recorded use of the Vessel Tracking Tool, developed by fisheries intelligence organisaiton, TMT, more than doubled between 2024 and 2025.

Despite this, turning information into action requires trained officials, functioning institutions and trust between agencies and countries. In the West African region where TMT, and its partners have focused support, the relationships resulted in the deterrence of illegal fishing took more than a decade to build. An independent assessment by Poseidon Aquatic Resource Management of this work, supported by Norway, found that some of the strongest results came when governments shared information regionally.

One case began with a concern raised by a fisheries inspector in Ghana about the vessel NOVA ZEELANDIA. Officials in Côte d’Ivoire, Angola and South Africa checked their records and shared information. Angola subsequently fined associated trawlers for unauthorized transshipment and barred NOVA ZEELANDIA from its waters, while Cameroon separately fined the vessel owners US$2.1 million for breaches of inspection rules.

The vessel later changed its name and flag and remains in operation. It is a reminder that effective ocean governance requires sustained cooperation across jurisdictions.

Relationships are development infrastructure

Development programmes routinely count the numbers of people trained, systems established and institutions strengthened. The value of the relationships built alongside them is harder to measure. Yet a fisheries officer knowing who to contact in a neighbouring country can be as important as the technology on their desk.

These relationships take years to build and can be fragile. One or two funding cycles may establish a system or deliver training, yet they are less likely to embed the institutional memory, expertise and relationships that allow it to survive and adapt.

Long-running development partnerships and support should therefore not automatically be viewed as evidence that localisation has failed to materialise. A better test is whether they are evolving toward stronger national institutions, greater regional leadership and with less dependence on external technical expertise, while preserving cooperation where challenges remain shared.

Oceans belong in Norway’s Turning Point

Norway brings decades of experience in fisheries management, marine research and ocean governance. Norway is itself a fishing and aquaculture nation, connected through the same ocean systems and global seafood supply chains.

Norway’s investment in oceans can therefore combine locally led capacity with international cooperation because illegal vessels do not respect borders.

The evidence from West Africa shows why sustained investment matters. National enforcement capability and regional networks have been built over more than a decade. Withdrawing support before those systems are sufficiently resilient risks losing hard-won gains, continuing to invest allows national leadership to deepen and relationships to mature.

Norway’s challenge is not unique. Development partners are increasingly being asked to make harder choices and reduce dependency without dismantling the relationships and cooperation needed to address problems that are inherently international. As Turning Point asks where Norway has particular strengths and where its development cooperation can have greatest impact, oceans deserve a prominent place in the answer.

The question should not simply be which partnerships Norway can eventually leave. It should also be which are worth sustaining and deepening because the same fish stocks, vessels and networks are what is at stake. Strong national capacity and international relationships are not competing goals. One makes the other possible. And in an ocean that connects Guinea-Bissau’s fishing communities with Norway’s fjords, Norway has both the expertise and the interest to keep investing in both.

Gareth Johnstone is the Executive Director of Norwegian based fisheries intelligence organization, Trygg Mat Tracking (TMT). He has over 30 years’ experience as an environmental scientist, researcher and policy expert. He is also the former Director General of WorldFish.

Jan Thomas Odegard is a Norwegian environmental and development expert with 30 years’ experience spanning the UN, NGOs, private sector and research. He is co-founder and Chair of the Trygg Mat Tracking Board and former Secretary General of Friends of the Earth Norway.

IPS UN Bureau

Excerpt:

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

Credit: Matt Palmer / Unsplash
 
This guest post is authored by V. Ram Ramanathan, Durwood Zaelke, and Marcelo Suárez-Orozco and is informed by a presentation that Ramanathan is set to give at the Vatican on September 26.

By V. Ram Ramanathan, Durwood Zaelke and Marcelo Suárez-Orozco
NEW YORK, Sep 24 2026 (IPS)

Among the three of us, we have 15 decades of high-level experience in climate science, policies and actions, and we have never been more alarmed than we are at this moment. The United Nations has just officially declared that the world has failed in limiting global warming to a safe level. During the last decade, heat-trapping pollutants nearly doubled the rate that heat is being added to the planet—a rate that will push temperatures across the 1.5°Celsius threshold in five years or less and breach the first barrier of the Paris Agreement. This will further destabilize natural climate systems and amplify weather extremes, which are already costing the world economy more than $ 2 trillion annually. At the current rate of warming, the global temperature is likely to cross 2° Celsius in about 15 years, the outer limit of the Paris Agreement, taking us into a climate not witnessed by homo sapiens, ever.

High altitudes in the Tibetan-Himalayan region and the Alps are already warming at two to three times the global average (which may be implicated in the recent Nepal / Tibet floods that left 1400 confirmed dead and 5,000 missing). Other disastrous impacts of reaching 2°Celsius include the the transition of the Amazon from a forest into a savanna. The health impacts could be the worst of all. At 2°Celsius, heat deaths in 2050 could reach a staggering two billion in a worst-case analysis by actuarial experts at Exeter University.

If that weren’t bad enough, a new scientific study raises the possibility that the current rate of warming, if continued, could eventually shut down the ocean current called the Atlantic Meridional Overturning Circulation—AMOC. The Gulf Stream is a major part of this vital ocean current, which plays a dominant role in winter weather over north America and Europe. Worryingly, AMOC is already slowing down.

At today’s rate of warming AMOC could begin to collapse at warming as low as 2° Celsius, which could be crossed by the time today’s infants are in college. Impacts would be punishing, stranding heat in the already too hot tropics, while robbing northern countries of heat now transported north to keep temperatures temperate, leading to bitter winters. If AMOC collapses, currently a low-probability event, it could trigger massive forced internal and international displacements, ushering in the world’s largest crisis of forced migration ever.

Crossing 2°Celsius will trigger other irreversible impacts too, further amplifying warming through the loss of sea ice and glaciers. The depletion of ice and snow will make the planet darker, resulting in more absorption of incoming solar radiation, amplifying warming by 25% or more.

The good news is that we can avoid this fate if we cut the rate of warming quickly—by 50% within 15 years, which is feasible in two parts.

First, we need to cut the super-pollutants of climate. These include hydrofluorocarbons (HFCs), methane, lower-atmosphere ozone, and black carbon soot from diesel and cooking smoke. These short-lived climate pollutants are called super pollutants because they are tens to thousands of times more potent than carbon dioxide in heating the planet and are currently contributing more than half of the warming the planet has witnessed. However, and this is crucial–they dissipate from the atmosphere within two decades, whereas carbon dioxide, the best-known climate pollutant, takes multiple decades to a century to significantly decline.

Technologies exist to quickly and affordably reduce the super pollutants. In many cases we have the policies and laws as well. HFCs are being cut through the 2016 Kigali amendment to the successful Montreal Protocol—the treaty that has slowed warming by several decades while restoring the protective stratospheric ozone layer.

Methane pollution is getting more attention recently, including from Prime Minister Mia Mottley of Barbados, who is recommending a binding international agreement —inspired by the Montreal Protocol—to prevent the oil and gas industry from wasting natural gas, which is 90% methane. Other local solutions can reduce or even eliminate methane from landfills, starting by reducing food waste. There are many other such practical, off-the-shelf solutions.

The immediate task at hand is to thin the invisible heat trapping blanket. If we implement super pollutant solutions before 2030 and scale to full potential in less than10 years, the rate of warming can be reduced by 30% by 2040s. But we need to cut the rate of warming by half, i.e. 50%. The super pollutants should be our first target, because the technologies and policies are there and once we put them into action, the blanket-thinning will start immediately.

Second, as the recent IPCC report affirms, we need to focus on removing CO2. The human-made CO2 blanket up there weighs about 1,200 billion tons and we have to thin it by 5%, or 60 billion tons. Nature-based solutions are currently removing about 2 billion tons per year. Chemical/biological/technological solutions are actively pursued. Scaling to 4 billion tons per year would remove the needed tons in 15 years.

Together, these two measures would halve the rate of warming from today’s nearly 0.4° Celsius per decade to less than 0.2° Celsius per decade. We know of no other measures of thinning the heat-trapping blanket to provide the rapid cooling needed to allow us to survive and thrive. Even with rapid actions, climate disruption will continue for decades. We must make people and ecosystems resilient. Since we are all interconnected, we require global cooperation to make people and ecosystem climate resilient. Towards this global cooperation, we propose creating: One Million Climate Advocates to empower the public to support local and national actions; and One Million Climate Champions to connect civil society, governments, and industries to turn climate mitigation policies into actions at the local to the global level.

It’s time to move forward, always forward. Adelante, Siempre Adelante. Those were among the last words Pope Francis offered one of us (Suárez-Orozco). Not forward when the politics are perfect or opposition relents. Forward now, with the urgency of a species that has finally seen the iceberg but still has time to turn the tiller toward safety.

V. Ram Ramanathan is a distinguished research professor at the University of California at San Diego and the winner of the 2026 Crafoord Prize from the Royal Swedish Academy.

Marcelo Suárez-Orozco is chancellor of the University of Massachusetts Boston & the UCLA Wasserman Dean Emeritus.

This article was issued by the LegalPlanet and is being republished from the original with their permission.

IPS UN Bureau

Excerpt:

 
CIVICUS discusses public art, gender-based violence and censorship in Iraqi Kurdistan with Tara Abdullah, a multidisciplinary visual artist from Sulaymaniyah who is currently based in Oslo, Norway as part of the Safemuse – Safe Havens for Artists residency.

Tara Abdullah

How did you become an artivist?

I’m from Sulaymaniyah in the Kurdistan Region of Iraq, and I’ve been using art to express myself since I was a child. I fought hard to get into art school. After ninth grade, I joined the Institute of Art and studied there for five years, then studied for four more years at the College of Fine Arts at the University of Sulaymaniyah and graduated in 2020. All in all, I spent almost a decade studying art and learning new materials and methods I could bring into my work.

Since I graduated in 2020, I’ve used art in many different forms, and over the past six years I’ve tried to bring art and activism together, mainly around environmental conservation and women’s rights.

Doing art as a woman here isn’t easy. Dogmas around culture, religion and tradition mean most forms of art are considered haram, or forbidden. Even inside the art community, I’ve found a kind of disgust towards certain forms of art, with people saying some things are too provocative or politically wrong. But reading monthly data on femicide and violence against women has pushed me further to try to use elements of the culture and society I grew up in to try to break the red lines set for women.

What was the Feminine Project?

It was a project I started in 2020, in which I collected clothes from women who had faced violence. I went door to door across thousands of homes in the city and surrounding towns to interview the women and collect a piece of clothing along with their story. I stitched the pieces together and hung them along a five-kilometre stretch of the city’s main street, leading from the main court to the public park.

This was my idea of a peaceful protest. Women here can’t speak openly about the violence they face. If they did, they’d face immediate backlash. Their clothes themselves carry shame. When women hang their washing out, they cover their underwear so it isn’t seen by anyone. I wanted to show that not even women’s clothes have the freedom to be touched by the sun, let alone the women themselves.

I put up a public installation rather than a gallery, because I wanted the public exposed to it, not just the small art community that already agrees with these ideas. By the end of the first day, people started tearing the piece down and burning parts of it, and it triggered a huge backlash online and offline.

What project did you work on then?

After the Feminine Project, I had thousands of stories from the women I’d interviewed. So in late 2022 I started my Voice Project. I turned the stories into a two-minute speech carrying the weight of all of it: honour killing, suicide, violence. Women here are expected to keep a low voice and never give their opinion. Decisions are made for them by men. So I created a voice for them.

I played the message through 66 synchronised speakers across four cities and three surrounding towns in Sulaymaniyah province, all at the same time. I used megaphones deliberately. They’re symbolically loaded because they are used in mosques by mullahs for the call to prayer. In most countries, anyone can speak, but here it’s always a man’s voice, whether it’s calling people to prayer or selling groceries. I wanted to show women also had a voice.

This caused an even bigger backlash than the first project. People started shutting down the speakers, and the mullahs pushed to bring me to court, accusing me of an immoral act against our culture, religion and tradition. They accused me of promoting homosexuality, which genuinely surprised me, because the piece was straightforwardly about violence against women. When the judge called me in for a statement, he asked whether I was promoting ‘queer ideology’. I replied that my work promotes individual freedom. The case was eventually dismissed, but I had to get out of the country and stay away for a few weeks until things settled down.

I think the backlash comes from the visibility. The art community is tiny, and art typically stays inside galleries where very few people see it. But when you bring it out into the public space, it exposes feelings the public didn’t know were there.

How do you manage the risks that this work brings?

For the Feminine Project, building trust with the women was very difficult. I had to reassure them I wasn’t taking photos or recording their voices, and let them check this was true. Even then, some rejected the idea outright, saying things like, ‘So what are you going to do, are you superwoman? Things won’t change’, or accusing me of trying to destroy their families.

None of the clothes in the final installation were tied to a name, so the women’s safety was protected. That meant all the pressure landed on me. I come from a very traditional, religious family who never approved of me going into art. When I was preparing the Feminine Project, I told them I was doing charity work. When the truth came out, there was a huge conflict at home, including violence. But this didn’t make me back down. Instead, it made me more determined.

I know that by undertaking these projects I risk being taken to court, being denied permission to work or receiving online smears and threats. But if I don’t do this, who will? I’m proud of what I’ve done and I’ll keep doing it.

What support have you received?

There are always going to be people for and against, but honestly, most public reaction leans against this kind of work. But I’ve also received some encouragement. Following the Feminine and Voice projects, many women contacted me anonymously to tell me how much relief the work gave them, as someone was finally saying what they’d wanted to say themselves.

However, most of the support I receive comes from outside Iraq. After the Voice Project, I was blacklisted and I couldn’t get any funding or permission for public installations, so I started applying for international prizes instead.

In 2023 I was shortlisted for the Future Generation Art Prize in Ukraine, out of 12,000 applications, for an installation building a bridge between Kurdish women’s experience of violence and war and Ukrainian women living through the current conflict, and I won the special prize in 2024. I also received the Alpine Fellowship Visual Art Prize in 2023 and the Prince Claus Seed Award in 2025. Researchers have written papers about my work, and in 2025, I showed a rough-cut documentary about the Voice Project in Warsaw and an indoor installation about Kurdish women’s experience in Kraków, Poland. That international attention keeps me going, and I use the exposure and funding to keep building pressure back home.

How do you collaborate with others?

I work as an individual artist. I bring in craftspeople and freelancers to help make each piece, but most of them ask me not to use their names. They want the money, not the association. I always explain the risk honestly to people, and many back out.

When I can, I bring in local women to do the work and pay them. For the Feminine Project I had dozens of women doing the sewing. For my environmental work, I try to involve as many women and young people as possible. For a water festival in 2025, I made giant puppets out of reed and recycled biodegradable material alongside 20 people, running workshops over 10 days so they could learn to use art to deliver their own messages.

Collaboration carries risk. When I ran a seminar on art and peace, security forces raided it on the second day and took me in for questioning. But my message to anyone facing suppression or violence is not to be afraid. Talk about it; bring it out into the open. You don’t have to be accepted by a corrupted environment around you to accept yourself.

For me, art is a whole universe you can fit everything into: your ideas, your beautiful things and the problems around you. You can use art to try to fix things. It’s the only weapon that doesn’t hurt or kill.

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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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

Bangladesh is rightly praised for saving lives during cyclones and floods. Early warning systems, cyclone shelters and community mobilisation have turned once-catastrophic disasters into emergencies in which evacuation is often possible. But behind that success lies a quieter national failure: millions of people are being uprooted inside the country, often more than once, without a clear path back to secure homes, land or livelihoods.

Dr Mohammad Zaman

In Bangladesh, this distinction is not academic. A Rohingya family that fled Myanmar into Cox’s Bazar is rightly understood as part of a refugee crisis. A Bangladeshi family forced from a riverbank in Kazipur-Sirajganj, a cyclone-hit village in Barguna or Patuakhali, or a landslide-prone hillside in Chattogram is internally displaced. The first case draws international refugee law and a global humanitarian apparatus. The second is too often dismissed as local misfortune, seasonal migration or urban poverty—even when the displacement is forced, repeated and long-term.

The drivers are unmistakable. Monsoon floods, cyclones, storm surges and landslides trigger large annual movements. Slower disasters—riverbank erosion, salinity intrusion and coastal land loss—make return impossible for many families. Conflict and violence produce smaller annual movements, but protracted displacement in the Chittagong Hill Tracts remains unresolved. Development projects, urban evictions and infrastructure expansion can also uproot communities when resettlement and compensation fall short.

The numbers show why Bangladesh can no longer treat internal displacement as a temporary humanitarian footnote. The Internal Displacement Monitoring Centre reported about 2.4 million disaster-related displacements in Bangladesh in 2024, up from about 1.8 million in 2023. Monsoon floods alone triggered around 1.3 million movements, including an estimated 723,000 in Sylhet division in June. Cyclone Remal added roughly 1.1 million displacements, many of them pre-emptive evacuations that saved lives but still disrupted homes, schools, work and local economies. Conflict and violence accounted for about 2,800 displacements.

New national evidence makes the picture starker. The International Organization for Migration’s Displacement Tracking Matrix estimated 5 million disaster-induced IDPs in Bangladesh in its 2025 nationwide assessment. Nearly two-thirds had been displaced before April 2020, meaning many have lived with displacement for years, not weeks. One quarter were concentrated in just four districts—Chattogram, Sirajganj, Bhola and Noakhali—while Chattogram and Dhaka divisions together hosted about 40 per cent of the estimated displaced population.

These figures expose an unequal geography of risk. Coastal households face cyclones, storm surges, saline water and embankment failures. Riverine communities in the north and centre lose land to erosion. City slums absorb families who arrive after disasters, only to place them in flood-prone, insecure and poorly serviced neighbourhoods. Women, children, older people and persons with disabilities face particular barriers in evacuation, shelter access, documentation, employment and safe housing. Displacement is not simply movement from one place to another; it can strip people of assets, identity, social networks, education and political voice.

Bangladesh’s IDP crisis is best understood as a development crisis with humanitarian symptoms. The country is comparatively strong at emergency response: it can warn people, open shelters and move communities away from immediate danger. The harder work begins after the water recedes—restoring land, rebuilding homes, returning children to school, replacing fishing gear or livestock, securing tenure in safer locations, and preventing displaced families from being pushed into exploitative labour or unsafe housing. Without durable solutions—safe return, local integration or planned relocation—each disaster deepens the last.

Bangladesh has a policy foundation, including its National Strategy on Internal Displacement Management. What it lacks is implementation at the scale demanded by climate reality. Internal displacement must be built into land-use planning, social protection, climate adaptation, urban housing, education, health care and local government finance. Data systems should distinguish short-term evacuations from protracted displacement. Relief, relocation and resettlement must be transparent, participatory and centred on livelihoods—not merely a transfer from one unsafe place to another.

Ashrayan, Bangladesh’s flagship housing program for landless and homeless families, offers both a useful model and a warning. Since 1997, it has given many poor households a legal roof, a small plot and access to basic services. For families living for years on embankments, khas land, riverbanks or in insecure urban settlements, secure shelter can be life-changing. But Ashrayan also shows why housing cannot be mistaken for rehabilitation. A house in the wrong place—without work nearby, transport, drainage, schools, health care or local accountability—can become another form of confinement. The real test is not how many units are handed over, but whether families can rebuild livelihoods and belong to the communities that receive them.

The recurring failures are practical and political. Too many Ashrayan-style resettlement sites are chosen because public or khas land is available, not because the location offers a realistic route out of poverty. Weak construction, poor drainage, inadequate sanitation, limited maintenance and exposure to floods or erosion can undermine relocation itself. Governance failures—unclear beneficiary selection, local influence, informal payments, land disputes and weak grievance systems—can be just as damaging. When these problems occur, families may gain a roof while losing the social networks, markets and informal economies that kept them afloat. Some commute long distances; some rent out or abandon the unit; some move again. That is not a failure of the displaced. It is a warning about policy design.

The future will be harsher if policy remains reactive. Climate change will intensify the hazards that already uproot families—heavier rainfall, stronger storm surges, sea-level rise, salinity and river erosion—while urbanisation will keep pulling displaced people into already strained cities such as Dhaka, Chattogram and secondary urban centres. Bangladesh has proved through cyclone preparedness that public policy can save lives. Its next test is whether those who survive disaster can also recover dignity, income and security afterward.

That begins with treating IDPs as rights-holders, not as casualties of bad weather. Bangladesh must move beyond emergency shelter toward secure housing, restored livelihoods and accountable national systems backed by climate finance. Resettlement must be written into land policy, local budgets, urban planning, social protection and climate adaptation before the next flood or cyclone arrives. The choice is stark: displacement can remain a conveyor belt into poverty, or it can become a national commitment to safety, citizenship and a future people can rebuild.

Dr. Mohammad Zaman is an internationally recognized scholar and practitioner in resettlement and development projects across Asia and Africa. His work brings together academic scholarship, field-based practice, social safeguards, and policy engagement, with a particular focus on how affected communities experience, negotiate, and reshape development interventions. Dr. Zaman’s most recent book is Anatomy of Resettlement: Ethnographic Accounts and Stories in Retrospect (Bloomsbury Academic, 2025).

IPS UN Bureau

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

On 2 September 2026, UNICEF staff and partners are distributing recreation kits at Child-Friendly Spaces (CFS) at the holding center for children affected by the recent flash floods in Nuwakot District, Bagmati Province, Nepal. Credit: UNICEF/Laxmi Prasad Ngakhusi

By Shreya Komar
UNITED NATIONS, Sep 11 2026 (IPS)

Two weeks after devastating floods struck Nepal, communities across the country are still struggling to meet basic needs as humanitarian efforts continue. The disaster, triggered by a glacial collapse, has become one of Nepal’s deadliest in recent years, leaving widespread destruction in its wake.

As of Wednesday, 1,367 people had been confirmed dead, while 5,132 remained missing, including 587 foreign nationals. 13,646 people have been rescued, but many families are still waiting for news about their loved ones. Search operations remain ongoing, including efforts to reach people who may still be trapped in tunnels and other difficult-to-access areas.

The scale of the destruction has made delivering aid particularly challenging. Floodwaters have damaged homes, roads, bridges, and other essential infrastructure, leaving some communities isolated. The Nepalese government has been using military helicopters to drop aid into areas that remain difficult to reach, while temporary bridges are also being constructed to reconnect communities that have received insufficient assistance.

Families urgently need food, clean drinking water, shelter and access to healthcare. Health services are particularly important for vulnerable groups, including an estimated 1,600 pregnant women who are expected to give birth soon. Ensuring that these women can reach medical facilities and receive appropriate prenatal and emergency care is a major concern.

Mental health support is another pressing need that could become increasingly important as the immediate emergency begins to subside. Survivors have lost homes, livelihoods and, in many cases, family members.

On Wednesday September 9, UN Resident Coordinator for Nepal Lila Pieters Yahia, briefed reporters at UN Headquarters on the ongoing humanitarian efforts by the UN and the Nepalese government.

“People were just so depressed,” Yahia reflected after her visit to the affected communities.

Many people are also coping with the uncertainty of not knowing whether missing relatives are alive. Reuniting separated families and children has therefore become another important part of the humanitarian response.

The United Nations and its humanitarian partners launched a USD 49.6 million flash appeal last Friday to provide life-saving assistance to people affected by the disaster. The appeal is intended to support critical needs including food, clean water, logistics and other immediate relief. So far, approximately USD 22 million has been pledged, leaving a significant funding gap.

The Nepal Red Cross Society is leading much of the humanitarian response, with support from the International Federation of Red Cross and Red Crescent Societies, the International Committee of the Red Cross and other humanitarian organizations. Aid is being distributed through a combination of government agencies, community organizations and non-governmental organizations. However, humanitarian officials continue to warn that access remains one of the greatest obstacles to reaching people in need.

Yahia described the destruction as an example of the increasingly severe losses faced by countries vulnerable to climate change. “The devastation Nepal has experienced is an extraordinary, stark illustration of the losses and damages that climate-vulnerable countries are increasingly facing,” she said.

Nepal’s experience has also renewed calls for greater international action on climate change and climate justice. As a mountainous country particularly vulnerable to changing weather patterns and the effects of a warming climate, Nepal faces a disproportionate burden.

Despite the enormous challenges, Yahia says aid is reaching many affected communities, and survivors continue to demonstrate hope. “People are still searching for family members they know they may never find,” she said, highlighting the resilience keeping people strong. Yet thousands of people remain in need, and the destruction of transportation networks means that reaching the most isolated communities will take time.

“My plea tonight to the international community: we need to demonstrate solidarity with the people of Nepal,” Yahia emphasized.

For Nepal, the emergency is far from over. The immediate priority remains saving lives and providing food, water, shelter and access to healthcare. As communities begin the long process of rebuilding, the country will also need sustained international support to recover from one of its most destructive disasters.

IPS UN Bureau Report

UN staff members at the SDG Action Zone outside UN Headquarters in New York, 2019. Credit: UN Photo/Laura Jarriel

By Samuel King and Inés M. Pousadela
BRUSSELS, Belgium / MONTEVIDEO, Uruguay, Sep 9 2026 (IPS)

When the UN High-level Political Forum on Sustainable Development (HLPF) ended in New York in July, it took two recorded votes for states to pass a ministerial declaration that, until recently, would have been adopted without controversy. Uruguay, speaking for the Group of 77 developing countries plus China, pushed through the deletion of a reference to the agreement reached at the COP28 climate summit. Israel forced a vote on a paragraph about self-determination for people under occupation. Russia dissociated itself from the passage on peace and security. The wrangling revealed the extent to which the consensus that in 2015 saw all 193 UN states agree the Sustainable Development Goals (SDGs) – a common blueprint to end poverty, tackle climate change and build accountable institutions by 2030 – has been eroded.

The problem goes beyond this latest session. Progress is tracked through Voluntary National Reviews, the self-assessments states present at the Forum. Thirty-six countries did so this year. But the process asks nothing of states beyond showing up. There’s no independent verification of data, and governments aren’t required to consult civil society. States that restrict civic space at home face no consequences. Seventeen of the 36 states that presented reviews this year are rated by the CIVICUS Monitor as having repressed or closed civic space.

A forum built to hold states accountable has become a stage on which the least accountable governments may perform compliance, while the civil society groups meant to keep them honest are locked out of the room.

In the room but not at the table

Where civil society can act, it supports delivery of the SDGs. Sustained advocacy delivered Colombia’s ban on child marriage in 2025 and continues to drive the campaign against female genital mutilation in The Gambia. In Nepal, local organisations have made monitoring the goals more inclusive by supplying data on excluded communities that official statistics miss.

Yet the HLPF gives civil society little formal standing. Civil society was in the building all week — CIVICUS co-organised sessions on civic space and the SDGs, supported a global forum on the future of multilateralism and ran a workshop on the post-2030 agenda — but it didn’t get a seat at the table where decisions are made.

Showing up can also be dangerous. In 2025, most civil society representatives from El Salvador withdrew over fears of reprisals. Activists elsewhere describe reprisals for exposing gaps between official reporting and reality on the ground, often with little practical support from the UN despite guidelines that are supposed to protect them.

SDG 16 on peace, justice and strong institutions is meant to be the foundation for the other 16 goals, and its Target 16.10 commits states to protecting fundamental freedoms. But it’s routinely ignored. The CIVICUS Monitor has tracked year-on-year regression in civic space conditions since the SDGs came into effect. Where civil society can’t operate freely, it’s no surprise if the goals it should help implement and monitor aren’t being met.

Falling short

The UN Secretary-General’s 2026 report on the SDGs made clear how delivery is falling short. It found that out of 139 targets with reliable trend data, only 15 per cent are on track, while a further 15 per cent have regressed below their 2015 baselines.

But rather than take responsibility for their failures, powerful states are using the lack of progress as a pretext to demand less ambition. The USA has dismissed the SDGs as an infringement on national sovereignty. Speaking at an event during the Forum, Russia’s representative said that the goals’ ambitions had proven ‘quite far away from reality’, blaming the design of the goals rather than states’ failure to deliver. For many states, an ambitious rights-based agenda is no longer a promise to keep, but a commitment to be backed away from.

Yet evidence suggests that when political will exists, change can come. The UN’s Asia-Pacific review presented at the HLPF showed that the number of children in child labour fell from 49 to 28 million between 2020 and 2025. What holds back achievement of the SDGs is not flawed design, but political choices.

As negotiations begin on what comes after the goals’ 2030 deadline, some states and UN officials favour extending the current goals, on the reasonable logic that reopening them in today’s political climate risks producing something weaker. But the framework agreed in 2015 wasn’t built for a world of growing authoritarianism, accelerating climate breakdown, coordinated backlash against gender equality, increasing militarisation, collapsing multilateral cooperation and rapid technological development. A post-2030 agenda will have to take account of all this, along with the financial strain on the multilateral system.

Forus, a network of national civil society platforms, has mapped three scenarios for the post-2030 process – continuity, reset or fragmentation – and insists that whichever prevails, accountability, civic space and financing reform must sit at the centre. Several upcoming moments will reveal the direction of travel. Next year’s Commission on the Status of Women and Economic and Social Council’s Youth Forum, along with the SDG Summit and the 2028 Pact for the Future review, all offer opportunities that must be seized to bring civil society into the process, identify where implementation is failing and match ambition with achievement.

Samuel King is a researcher with the Horizon Europe-funded research project ENSURED: Shaping Cooperation for a World in Transition at CIVICUS: World Alliance for Citizen Participation.

For interviews or more information, please contact research@civicus.org

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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Farmer Field Day held at Mariira, to demonstrate the different Climate Smart Technologies used in farming. December 22nd, 2022. Murang'a county, Kenya. Credit: 2022 CIAT/Owen Kimani

By Ismahane Elouafi
KIGALI, Rwanda, Sep 3 2026 (IPS)

As leaders gather in Kigali for the Africa Food Systems Forum, they face an urgent question: why do so many proven agricultural innovations still fail to reach the farmers and communities that need them most?

For the first time, Africa is home to the largest number of people facing hunger. This is despite decades of agricultural innovation developed to address the continent’s food and agriculture challenges. Between 2022 and 2024, CGIAR – the world’s largest partnership dedicated to transforming food, land and water systems in a climate crisis – developed more than 470 innovations, reaching at least six million farmers across the continent.

Africa’s food systems challenges are not the result of a lack of innovation. Rather, a set of overlapping, complex and increasingly severe pressures is undermining progress at a critical point in the continent’s transformation.

Climate-driven weather impacts are becoming more frequent and severe. A predicted “super” El Niño in the coming months is forecast to create drier than usual conditions across parts of West and Central Africa. In East Africa, it is forecast to reduce normal rainfall in some regions and to lead to severe rainfall and flooding in others. According to the World Meteorological Organization, Africa is warming faster than the global average.

Escalating conflicts across several African countries are disrupting food supply chains and increasing the risk of severe food emergencies. At the same time, geopolitical instability has driven up the cost of agricultural inputs and transport, creating further barriers to sustainable farming. All this is taking place against a backdrop of reduced funding for agricultural development and an unprecedented decline in international aid to sub-Saharan Africa.

African countries are confronting this confluence of challenges as they begin implementing the new 10-year Comprehensive Africa Agriculture Development Programme Strategy and Action Plan (2026–2035), the African Union-led roadmap for transforming the continent’s agrifood systems into more resilient drivers of economic growth, food security and healthy diets.

The roadmap sets the ambition. What is missing is the architecture to make that happen: the “missing middle” between proven agricultural innovation and the large-scale public investment, partnerships and delivery capacity needed to take it to scale.

Bridging this missing middle requires development funders to rethink how they support agricultural innovation. Governments, international financial institutions, multilateral development banks and African development finance institutions must move beyond portfolios of disparate projects and invest instead in coherent innovation pathways. Science and evidence must be integrated from the outset, before investment decisions are made.

Innovation pathways provide a route for moving tried-and-tested solutions to scale. They allow governments, funders, scientific organizations and partners to work together to identify, validate, scale and measure the impact of the most promising innovations.

Bundling complementary innovations into investable packages can also help accelerate deployment and impact, opening opportunities for ambitious young Africans to build firms, provide services and create jobs within their own food systems.

African governments must remain in the driver’s seat throughout this process. That is essential to ensure investments respond to national priorities and align with country agrifood systems investment plans under CAADP.

CGIAR is working to build precisely these connections between country demand, science, finance and delivery. One example is the partnership between CGIAR Scaling for Impact with the African Development Bank to support the Technologies for African Agricultural Transformation (TAAT) and its Clearinghouse. It demonstrates how large-scale development finance and scientific expertise can be brought together to meet national agricultural priorities and deliver proven, science-backed technologies at scale.

The TAAT Clearinghouse connects country demand and AfDB financing with proven innovations, CGIAR expertise and the technical support needed for effective delivery. It is currently linking approximately US$1.5 billion in AfDB-backed investments in Nigeria, Ethiopia and the Democratic Republic of the Congo with science-backed technologies and expertise.

In 2026 alone, CGIAR innovations funded and scaled through the TAAT Clearinghouse are expected to reach 3.4 million farmers across the continent.

The Africa Food Systems Forum must therefore be more than a place to showcase promising ideas. It should be a critical inflection point for moving from commitment to credible investment, action and delivery. African policymakers, investors, development finance institutions and researchers should use the Forum to build a more systematic science-to-finance compact—one that places proven innovation at the heart of national investment and delivery.

In an era of less aid and greater instability, Africa cannot afford for proven science to remain stranded in pilot projects—or for billions in development finance to be invested without the best available evidence. Connecting the two is one of the fastest ways to turn Africa’s food systems ambitions into results at scale.

Dr. Ismahane Elouafi is Executive Managing Director, CGIAR

IPS UN Bureau

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Excerpt:

Homes and roads are covered in mud in Nuwakot District, Nepal, after devastating flash floods swept through central northern Nepal. Credit: UNICEF/Laxmi-Prasad-Ngakhusi

By Oritro Karim
UNITED NATIONS, Sep 1 2026 (IPS)

On the morning of August 26, an unprecedented series of flash floods struck Nepal and the Tibet Autonomous Region of China, causing immense destruction, killing hundreds of civilians and leaving thousands missing. Entire neighborhoods have been buried underwater and beneath mud as the Nepalese government and humanitarian organizations rush to provide emergency assistance.

“My family members were swept away by the flood in front of my eyes,” Kalpana Malla from Nepal’s Nuwakot district told reporters. “They could not escape the flood; there was no chance at all. This flood took everything, but my son and I climbed the rooftop of a house and survived, but couldn’t explain how.”

Although the direct cause of the floods is currently unknown, figures from the U.S. Geological Survey (USGS) indicate that the floods were caused by a significant glacial collapse, after previously reporting they were caused by a magnitude 4.4 earthquake. Marking a magnitude 5.2 seismic event, the subsequent debris flow and downstream collapse of seismic waves crashed over the Nepal-China border, destroying buildings and roads along the Trishuli River.

“Initial analysis of before-and-after satellite images now suggests that part of a glacier collapsed high in the mountains,” said Professor Liz Stephens, Professor in Climate Risks and Resilience at the Department of Meteorology at the University of Reading in the United Kingdom, noting that the stability of high-mountain environments is increasingly threatened by the global impacts of climate change. She adds that the Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change (IPCC) has “high confidence” that similar “complex cascading events” could occur in the future if underlying climate factors are not addressed soon.

Entire regions in Nepal have been rendered inaccessible due to heavy flooding and mudslides, which destroyed at least 35 bridges, affected over 40 kilometers of roads, and disrupted telecommunications and electricity services in roughly 10 percent of the total affected areas. The hardest-hit regions are the Rasuwa district near Kathmandu in northern Nepal, the Nuwakot district in central-northern Nepal, and the towns of Timure, Rasuwagadhi, and Syabrubesi. According to figures from the Office for the Coordination of Humanitarian Affairs (OCHA), roughly 10,000 households are in dire need of emergency assistance, with many families stripped of basic services, such as shelter, food, water supply, and access to healthcare.

Last week on August 27, Lila Pieters Yahia, the United Nations (UN) Resident Coordinator in Nepal, informed reporters during a press briefing at the UN Headquarters that at least 359 people had been killed, while 73 additional civilians had been hospitalized, though some have since been released. Yahia also stated that approximately 910 civilians remain missing, though various media outlets report the figure exceeds 1,300. Since then, Nepal officials have confirmed 900 deaths and over 4247 missing.

These numbers are projected to fluctuate in the coming days as aid personnel increasingly access isolated areas. Of those unaccounted for, Yahia noted that roughly 517 are foreign nationals spanning over 30 countries—including hundreds from China and India, alongside approximately 90 from the United States.

“Everyone in a mountain valley faces the same hazards, but tourists are more vulnerable because they may not recognize the danger or understand local warnings,” said Dr. Fatima M. Pillosu, hydrometeorologist and flash floods researcher from the Department of Meteorology at the University of Reading. “Visitors from regions where such events are rare may not appreciate how fast a mountain river can rise, nor that these valleys also face avalanches, landslides and floods from melting glaciers, even in dry weather. Knowing in advance what can happen, and what to do if it does, is one of the most useful protections.”

Children in Nepal are among the hardest-hit populations, with the United Nations Children’s Fund (UNICEF) estimating that at least 17,000 children have been impacted. UNICEF has recorded the destruction of at least 18 schools and damage to 20. Roughly 10,000 school-age children are projected to require urgent support to continue their education, including new learning materials, access to temporary learning centers, and psychosocial support services for both children and teachers.

“Children across Rasuwa and Dhading saw their lives being literally washed away in front of their eyes in a very short span of time, with homes, classrooms, and medical facilities damaged,” said Alice Akunga, the UNICEF representative to Nepal. “Children who have survived the floods now face heightened risks of disease, malnutrition, violence and exploitation,” she said.

Yahia informed reporters that the UN and its partners are currently on the ground, providing direct support to vulnerable communities while simultaneously conducting assessments to determine the exact scale of needs. Currently, the World Food Programme (WFP) is positioned to provide equipment and emergency rations to communities on the frontlines of the crisis. Additionally, two staff members from the World Health Organization (WHO) are distributing tents, logistics support, and medical kits for about 10,000 people for roughly three months.

Although the UN has identified potential risk for additional flooding in areas of Nepal on August 27, it is working closely with the Nepalese government to scale up its life-saving operations across health, nutrition, water, sanitation, protection, and education.

In the wake of the disaster, both countries and UN entities have begun sending emergency supplies and funding for the relief efforts in Nepal. UN Under-Secretary-General for Humanitarian Affairs and Emergency Relief Coordinator Tom Fletcher announced that USD 2 million would be allocated from the UN Central Emergency Response Fund (CERF).

The U.S. State Department has pledged to send a disaster response advisor along with USD 500,000 in aid. Yahia also confirmed that Switzerland has sent more than USD 600,000 for aid, and other countries such as Japan, Australia and the United Kingdom have pledged to send aid funding and supplies in the days to come. Regional neighbors, such as India, Bangladesh and Sri Lanka, have begun sending emergency supplies.

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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

IPS UN Bureau

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Char residents crossing the Jamuna River by boat (Stock photo, 2016).

By Mohammad Zaman
DHAKA, Bangladesh, Aug 31 2026 (IPS)

Bangladesh’s riverine and coastal chars have always been landscapes of movement, but climate change is making that movement more violent, frequent, and unequal. The shifting islands of the Jamuna, Brahmaputra, Padma, and other rivers now reveal how climate stress multiplies deprivation, weakens citizenship, and forces char dwellers to absorb the costs of a crisis they did little to create.

After years of researching and writing about Bangladesh’s chars, I see them not as marginal landscapes, but as frontline climate geographies. They show how river erosion becomes repeated displacement, flooding brings livelihood collapse, and administrative neglect heightens vulnerability. Char people rebuild, migrate, and diversify under extreme uncertainty, but their resilience should not be romanticized. It is being stretched by intensifying hazards and institutions still designed for fixed land, fixed addresses, and orderly poverty. This is why the issue should be framed not simply as adaptation to hazards, but as a question of rights. The central problem is not that char dwellers fail to cope with a moving river; it is that institutions repeatedly ask them to cope without secure recognition, services, or protection.

Mohammad Zaman

Chars are marginal because state planning treats them as temporary spaces for poor and landless people. Some estimates suggest that chars cover roughly 8% of Bangladesh’s land area and are home to 15 to 20 million people. For char communities, migration is not a rupture in char life; it is a recurring way of organizing and rebuilding, often annually. But climate change is turning mobility from strategy into necessity. For many char dwellers, migration may begin as seasonal labour, become repeated relocation, and finally harden into permanent detachment from land, kinship, and legal security.

In 2024, according to the Internal Displacement Monitoring Centre’s Bangladesh country profile, monsoon floods triggered 1.3 million movements, while its disaster displacement risk reporting records more than 21 million disaster displacements in Bangladesh between 2008 and 2024. Among char people, climate change is felt through household decisions made under pressure: whether to rebuild on the same island, move to another char, keep children in school, or migrate to Dhaka for work. These choices are rational and strategic, but the field of options is narrowing under climate stress, vulnerability, and social exclusion.

Migration from char areas also reflects intelligence and aspiration: young people leave for wages, education, electricity, phones, clinics, and futures beyond subsistence and uncertainty. The tragedy is that climate-stressed households often move without skills, savings, documents, safe housing, or labour protection. The river follows them into the garment line, the rickshaw garage, the brick kiln, the domestic workplace, and the rented slum room.

How should these heightened risks from flooding and displacement be addressed? Adaptation is necessary, but it is not enough. Raised plinths, early warnings, flood-resistant crops and community preparedness may save lives, yet adaptation without land rights, education, healthcare, social protection and safe migration routes becomes a way of managing dispossession. Climate change deepens vulnerability because it strikes people who already lack secure tenure, dependable services and political recognition.

In Bangladesh, climate policy should stop treating char dwellers as humanitarian exceptions and start treating them as political subjects. Public services must be redesigned for moving landscapes through boat schools, mobile clinics, digital civil registration, portable social protection, and weather-responsive transport. Land administration must recognize erosion and accretion, while migration should be planned as adaptation through skills training, safe housing, labour rights, and social insurance. Gender must be central to this agenda. Women and girls often carry these risks most directly, through interrupted schooling, unsafe travel for work or services, increased care burdens during floods, and reduced voice in decisions about land, migration, and relief. Policies that imagine the household as a single male-headed unit misread both vulnerability and agency.

The politics of the char is the politics of who counts in a warming world. Fixed maps assume that citizenship has a stable address and that development follows roads. Char life challenges those assumptions. It shows that climate vulnerability is produced not only by hazards, but by institutions unable or unwilling to recognize lives shaped by unstable land.

Bangladesh can praise char people for endurance, or it can confront the uncomfortable truth: the river will keep moving; that is its nature. But if the rights of char people move more slowly than the river, the failure is political. Their future will not be secured by teaching them to adapt endlessly to disappearance, but by ensuring that no citizen has to prove belonging on land that may not be there tomorrow.

The experience of Bangladesh’s char dwellers shows that climate change is not only an environmental crisis, but also a crisis of rights, recognition, and governance. River erosion, floods, and displacement become devastating because they intersect with insecure land tenure, weak services, gendered risks, and limited political voice. A just response must therefore go beyond short-term adaptation and treat char communities as full citizens whose mobility, livelihoods, and claims to belonging deserve protection in a warming and increasingly unstable world.

Dr. Mohammad Zaman has lived and conducted extensive field research in the Kazipur-Sirajganj chars and has written widely on char land tenure, livelihoods, and social organization. He is the lead editor, with Mustafa Alam as co-editor, of Living on the Edge: Char Dwellers in Bangladesh (Springer, 2021). He can be reached at mqzaman.bc@gmail.com.

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Lake Chungará and Parinacota volcano in northern Chile
Credit: Gerd Breitenbach, under the Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 3.0 Unported license

By Céline Delacroix
OTTAWA, Canada, Aug 28 2026 (IPS)

This week is World Water Week, the annual conference of governments, business, and civil society on building a water-secure future as global population, climate disruptions, and water demand increase. In Washington, it’s also Water Resources Development Act season, when every two years the US Congress reauthorizes the legilslation that funds US drinking water, wastewater systems, and flood risk management projects.

Water security ought to be something everyone can agree on, and there are long traditions of bipartisanship in past WRDA reauthorizations, and of diversity and inclusiveness in World Water Week conferences. But these days, water is increasingly a trigger for division, from the public outcry over data center water usage to anti-abortion activists introducing legislation to designate the abortion medication mifepristone as a water pollutant and get the US Environmental Protection Agency to regulate it, which is another way to restrict access to it.

For the record, mifepristone is no threat to waterways. Research overwhelmingly confirms its safety and efficacy, and a Food and Drug Administration assessment found its environmental accumulation in water was less than one part per billion. The lone study alleging mifepristone is a water pollutant is junk science. It used a debunked testing method and was published in a journal run by anti-abortion activists, and then cited by other anti-abortion activists.

While the mifepristone water scare is clearly disinformation, it’s so pointedly backwards that it points up an important truth: it isn’t abortion medication that threatens water security; on the contrary, it’s attacks on it and on family planning in general that pose a real threat.

There are several reasons for this. If family planning access is curtailed or cut off and birthrates rise, so will water demand and water stress. It will be worse in places with faster population growth, and worse globally for women and girls, who are the ones who have to collect the water in 80% of households experiencing shortages. Over 2 billion people lack safely managed drinking water. Women and girls suffer disproportionately from water shortages, yet they are generally excluded from decision making bodies or leadership positions that would give them a say in managing water.

In general, research shows that where gender disparities are high, women have more babies, population grows faster, and water scarcity gets worse. But the reverse is also true: where there is investment in and access to comprehensive family planning, and where women and girls are more empowered and included in decision making about managing water resources, over time birth rates decline, water stress eases, and water resiliency grows.

It ought to be obvious that population trends, changing demographics, and urbanization influence demand for water, food, energy, and land. Yet they are strangely absent from discourse on managing environment resources, including water governance. Ditto for gender inequality, which has a strong bearing on population growth.

The UN warns of “living beyond our hydrological means” amid water crisis and reaching “global water bankruptcy,” where water degradation has largely become irreversible. Population and gender issues are not controlling factors in this per se, as their impacts depend on patterns of production and consumption, technology, inequality and governanceThe same number of people can have radically different environmental footprints depending on where and how they live.

But population trends and gender equity are still important variables in how we use water and other resources that planners should not ignore. As human numbers and consumption levels rise, our ecological footprint, including water consumption, has become overwhelming and unsustainable.

This year, the Earth as a whole reached “overshoot day” – the day past which we’re consuming more in a given year than the Earth’s resources can regenerate — on July 30. The U.S. reached it March 14.

Climate change is intensifying drought, altering precipitation and snowpack, putting pressure on groundwater and surface water. For xample, fast regional population growth and development have stressed the Colorado River, which supplies roughly 40 million people and now faces severe and persistent shortages. In other water-stressed regions of the US, agriculture is the biggest consumer of shrinking water resources. The Ogallala Aquifer, for example, is getting depleted faster than it can naturally recharge.

Population dynamics are part of this complex picture. Water resources are embedded in an intricate web of human and ecological interaction. Water governance needs to take a broad, holistic view to understand the nexus of biodiversity, food production, and human needs and health as part of the same interconnected system of planetary health. Within that, managing water requires considering how population trends, human behavior, gender equity, technology, and human-caused climate change influence water systems.

The last thing policymakers should be doing is demonizing family planning as some kind of threat to the water supply. Reproductive health services are an intrinsic matter of human right, but they have critical environmental co-benefits, too, including easing population pressures on overtaxed water resources.

Managing water is not just about pipes and pumps; it’s about complex interactions between humans and ecosystems, managing them so they respect ecological limits as well as human rights and equity, which ultimately are all part of the same complex web. Water connects everything. Policymaking should too.

Céline Delacroix is adjunct professor at the University of Ottawa’s School of Health Sciences, a Senior Fellow with the Population Institute, and Director of the FP/Earth Project.

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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

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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

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By Kizito Makoye
DAR ES SALAAM, Tanzania, Aug 24 2026 (IPS)

For pastoralists in Arvaikheer — a village in Mongolia’s dry central plains — rain can determine whether there is enough grass for cattle to roam, whether waterholes are replenished and whether families make it through another dry season. But as climate change makes rainfall increasingly unpredictable, even a wet season may no longer provide water and pasture needed to sustain people and livestock.

The challenges being experienced across Mongolia’s drylands are at the centre of discussions at the 17th session of the Conference of the Parties to the United Nations Convention to Combat Desertification (UNCCD COP17) in Ulaanbaatar, where governments are devising measures to tackle menacing drought, desertification and land degradation.

It is against this backdrop that the Global Environment Facility (GEF) has announced plans for a new $140 million initiative aimed at helping countries prepare for drought, strengthen resilience in drylands and reduce the growing risks to ecosystems, food security, water availability, livelihoods and health.

The Drylands and Drought Management Integrated Program will be implemented during the GEF-9 investment cycle from 2026 to 2030. It responds to requests from parties to the UNCCD for the GEF to give greater priority to financing programs related to drought resilience.

The program will focus on helping countries and communities better prepare for, monitor, assess, mitigate and respond to the cascading impacts of drought.

“Investing in healthy land and healthy people means investing in food security, climate resilience, biodiversity, water, jobs, and peace,” said the GEF Interim CEO and Chairperson, Claude Gascon, in a statement. “Through this new integrated program, we will support countries in moving from crisis response toward proactive drought resilience.”

The announcement comes as negotiators at COP17 are discussing an array of measures to tackle drought and land degradation, including financing, private-sector engagement, capacity-building and support for rangelands and pastoralists.

Participants in traditional dress take part in a cultural presentation during the 17th session of the UN Convention to Combat Desertification (UNCCD COP17) in Ulaanbaatar, Mongolia. Credit: Anastasia Rodopoulou/ENB-IISD

Rangelands Under Pressure

Rangelands have emerged as a major focus of the Ulaanbaatar talks.

Delegates have been discussing policies and investments for their sustainable management while recognising the importance of rangelands and pastoralist communities in addressing food insecurity, desertification, land degradation, drought, biodiversity loss and climate change.

For pastoralists, the effects of changing rainfall patterns are already devastating.

After rain, parched rangelands can quickly turn green, water sources refill and livestock gain access to fresh pasture. But the COP17 discussions have highlighted how climate change is altering these life-sustaining rains, making them more erratic and intense and reducing their effectiveness through increased runoff.

Land degradation can increase risks to human health, contribute to forced migration and intensify conflicts over scarce resources. It is also closely linked to climate change, biodiversity loss, poverty and food insecurity.

The GEF’s new program, therefore, comes at a time when drought is increasingly treated as a development and livelihood challenge rather than solely as an environmental emergency.

Aftermath of a rain storm at the 17th session of the UN Convention to Combat Desertification (UNCCD COP17) in Ulaanbaatar, Mongolia. Credit: Anastasia Rodopoulou/ENB-IISD

Financing Remains a Challenge

But international commitments to increase investment in drylands will face a litmus test to ensure that money reaches communities managing these landscapes.

During an open dialogue at COP17, civil society participants highlighted barriers to accessing funds as one of the challenges facing pastoralist communities, alongside pressures such as mining.

Participants called for better connections between financing and market mechanisms and the diverse local economies of pastoralists. They also urged governments and institutions to integrate targets for land degradation neutrality with pastoralist-designed and community-led initiatives.

That emphasis on local participation is significant for the GEF, which says that under GEF-9, 20 percent of resources across its family of funds are expected to directly benefit Indigenous Peoples and local communities.

Delegates at COP17 have also welcomed the Rangelands Flagship Initiative, a multi-partner global initiative led by Mongolia and the UNCCD. The initiative is built around three areas: knowledge, investment and institutions.

The GEF is supporting its development and coordination through the UNCCD COP17 Legacy Project, a $3.3 million GEF investment implemented by the International Union for Conservation of Nature. The project is leveraging an additional $8 million in co-financing from Mongolia and IUCN, according to the GEF.

The co-chair consults with the secretary during the Ulaanbaatar International Conference on Combating Desertification as delegates discuss strategies to strengthen global efforts to address land degradation, drought and desertification. Credit: Anastasia Dodopoulou/ENB-IISD

A Wider Investment Push

The new drought program is part of a broader expansion of environmental financing under GEF-9.

The investment cycle begins with an initial programming level of $3.9 billion and is designed to expand investments in nature-positive development, drought resilience and sustainable land management.

Four GEF-9 integrated programs are strongly aligned with UNCCD objectives and are expected to receive more than $800 million in GEF grant funding. They cover food systems, critical forest biomes, blue and green islands and drylands and drought management.

Drought resilience is also being given a more prominent place in the way GEF resources are allocated and measured.

The GEF-9 cycle includes a dedicated objective for implementing national drought plans, a drought vulnerability index in the formula used to calculate resource allocation to countries and new indicators to track improvements in drought resilience.

The approach reflects a growing recognition that drought can insidiously weaken ecosystems, livelihoods and food systems long before it becomes a full-blown crisis, leaving communities more exposed to the next shock.

From Crisis Response to Prevention

The GEF also plans to work with the Riyadh Global Drought Resilience Partnership, the Drought Resilience Investment Facility and other initiatives supporting resilience across drylands and rangelands.

During GEF-8, covering 2022 to 2026, the facility approved 50 projects across its family of funds supporting sustainable rangeland management and restoration and pastoralist livelihoods, with a total investment of more than $300 million.

The projects are at different stages of development and, according to the GEF, can complement the Rangelands Flagship Initiative and help take successful approaches to rangeland management and restoration to scale.

The new initiative also places a stronger emphasis on mobilising private capital.

Ten percent of total GEF-9 funding is allocated to a blended finance window, while the overall target is to use 25 percent of GEF resources to help mobilise private sector investment.

For countries vulnerable to drought, the challenge will be converting those financial commitments into practical investments that strengthen water security, restore degraded land and protect the livelihoods of communities dependent on drylands.

At COP17, where discussions on drought, rangelands, financing and pastoralist livelihoods are unfolding simultaneously, the GEF initiative offers a potentially significant new source of funding.

But the experience of pastoralist communities points to a broader question: whether global commitments and financing mechanisms can reach the people managing the land on the ground — and whether investments can arrive early enough to prevent drought from becoming a crisis.

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Carol Koech, Vice President for Africa at the Global Energy Alliance for People and Planet

By Benson Kunchezera
LILONGWE, Aug 12 2026 (IPS)

For years, Malawi’s electricity supply has been at the mercy of droughts, floods and cyclones that have repeatedly exposed the vulnerability of a power system heavily dependent on hydropower.

Cyclones Anna and Freddy damaged energy infrastructure, triggering prolonged blackouts that disrupted businesses, hospitals, schools and households while forcing the country to rely on expensive diesel generators to keep essential services running.

Now Malawi is betting on battery storage technology to make its electricity network more resilient to climate shocks while accelerating its transition to renewable energy.

The country has commissioned its first standalone utility-scale Battery Energy Storage System (BESS), a 20-megawatt, 40-megawatt-hour facility in Kanengo, Lilongwe, developed by the Electricity Supply Corporation of Malawi (ESCOM) with support from the Global Energy Alliance for People and Planet (GEAPP).

Backed by a USD 20 million catalytic grant from GEAPP, the project is expected to stabilise the national grid, unlock approximately 100 megawatts of renewable electricity that has previously been curtailed, reduce dependence on diesel generators and avoid more than 10,000 tonnes of carbon emissions annually.

For Carol Koech, vice president for Africa at the Global Energy Alliance for People and Planet, the project represents more than another piece of energy infrastructure.

“This project was envisioned after Cyclones Anna and Freddy exposed the fragility of Malawi’s hydropower-dependent grid,” Koech told IPS in an interview.

“The Battery Energy Storage System (BESS) strengthens grid resilience by storing electricity and dispatching it instantly during peak demand or climate-related disruptions. It also reduces reliance on costly diesel backup generation while unlocking about 100 megawatts of renewable energy capacity that is currently being curtailed.”

Unlike conventional power plants, battery storage does not generate electricity. Instead, it stores excess energy when demand is low and releases it when demand rises or generation falls, helping stabilise voltage and frequency across the electricity network.

Energy experts say such systems are becoming increasingly important as African countries expand renewable energy generation while confronting increasingly severe climate impacts.

For Malawi, where hydropower accounts for most electricity generation, prolonged droughts reduce river flows while floods and cyclones damage transmission infrastructure, making battery storage a critical adaptation tool.

Powering Economic Growth

Reliable electricity remains one of the biggest barriers to Malawi’s economic growth.

Frequent blackouts force manufacturers to halt production, increase operating costs through diesel generation and discourage private investment.

Agriculture, which employs the majority of Malawians, also depends increasingly on electricity for irrigation, agro-processing and cold storage.

Koech says reliable electricity could transform these productive sectors.

“Energy plays a significant role in enabling resilient agricultural systems,” she said.

“Irrigation, agro-processing and cold storage all depend on reliable electricity. Having a stable grid means these activities can continue with minimal interruptions.”

She added that manufacturers and small businesses also stand to benefit from fewer power outages.

“A reliable electricity supply means manufacturers do not have to worry about production losses or the high costs associated with alternative power sources. Small businesses equally benefit because they can operate consistently without disruptions.”

The project is expected to improve electricity reliability for households, industries and critical public services while supporting Malawi’s ambition of expanding electricity access to 70 percent by 2030.

Strengthening Regional Energy Trade

Beyond national benefits, the battery storage project could strengthen Malawi’s role within the Southern African Power Pool (SAPP), the regional electricity market linking several countries across southern Africa.

Malawi already has an electricity interconnector with Mozambique, while additional connections to Zambia and Tanzania are planned or under development.

According to Koech, battery storage provides the stable national grid needed for countries to participate effectively in regional electricity trading.

“Malawi is strategically positioned within the Southern African Power Pool,” she said.

“Battery storage strengthens grid stability, making it essential for cross-border electricity trade and regional energy security. As regional electricity markets continue evolving, resilient national grids will become increasingly important.”

Improved regional integration could enable countries to share electricity during shortages, improve renewable energy utilization and reduce the costs of maintaining reserve generation capacity.

Building African expertise

The Malawi project also aims to strengthen Africa’s technical capacity in battery storage technology.

Koech said the initiative forms part of GEAPP’s wider effort to deploy 90 gigawatts of battery storage globally while building local expertise to support future projects.

A Southern Africa BESS Centre of Excellence anchored at Mzuzu University will train engineers and power sector specialists in battery operations, grid modelling and system integration.

“We are building a local ecosystem for battery storage in Africa,” Koech explained.

“The Centre of Excellence will equip the next generation of African energy professionals with the technical skills needed to design, operate and manage these systems while allowing countries to learn from each other and reduce project delivery costs.”

She said knowledge generated through Malawi’s experience would support similar projects across the continent, including utility-scale battery developments already emerging elsewhere in southern Africa.

Attracting Future Investment

For GEAPP, Malawi’s project also serves as proof that utility-scale battery storage is commercially viable in Africa.

Instead of relying on diesel generators to stabilise electricity networks, utilities can increasingly use batteries to provide frequency regulation, voltage support and other ancillary grid services.

“This project demonstrates that Africa is ready for utility-scale battery storage,” Koech said.

“It shows utilities can replace expensive diesel with battery systems that charge during periods of low demand and discharge during peak demand while providing critical grid services.”

She believes the demonstration effect could encourage greater public and private investment in modern electricity infrastructure across the continent.

As African countries pursue ambitious renewable energy targets while confronting worsening climate extremes, battery storage is increasingly being viewed not simply as an energy technology but as climate resilience infrastructure.

For Malawi, where climate change continues to threaten electricity generation and economic development, the Kanengo battery project could become an important model for how clean energy investments strengthen resilience, expand energy access and stimulate sustainable growth.

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Repeated climate shocks, mounting debt and low employment prospects put greater pressures on families in Afghanistan that were “struggling to get by”. Credit: UN Photo/Luke Powell

By Shuli Wong
UNITED NATIONS, Aug 11 2026 (IPS)

“Mainly, people tell me they’re exhausted. They’re exhausted from being poor, from being hungry, from repeated climate shocks, mounting debt, and the daily struggle to provide for their families,” Olga Cherevko, Spokesperson for the UN Office for the Coordination of Humanitarian Affairs (OCHA) in Afghanistan, told UN reporters on August 4.

Traveling across Afghanistan, from Bamyan and Herat, Paktia, Khost, and most recently Nuristan after the devastating flash floods, Ms. Cherevko describes a country hit by multiple overlapping crises. These crises have created a humanitarian crisis in which food insecurity, disasters, displacement, and dwindling aid have converged.

Last week, Nuristan was hit by devastating flash floods where families lost loved ones, livelihoods, everything they owned, along with homes and infrastructure. Humanitarians moved quickly to deliver food, water, shelter, healthcare, protection, and psychosocial support; however, “when these floods hit, many people were already struggling to get by,” Ms. Cherevko said. Afghanistan is extremely vulnerable to climate shocks. “Communities barely have time to recover from one disaster when another one strikes…each shock pushes already vulnerable families deeper into poverty.

To help combat the compounding humanitarian crisis in Afghanistan, the 2026 humanitarian needs and response plan requested USD 1.71 billion to provide assistance to 17.5 million people in districts and communities facing the most acute and life-threatening conditions. However, the appeal has received only 26 percent of the required funding, creating a “very alarming” situation, “given the fact that we are seeing a lot of these indicators worsening, particularly malnutrition,” Ms. Cherevko warned. Afghanistan is encountering alarming rates of malnutrition, with OCHA’s nutrition partners noting that childhood wasting has worsened this year across three-quarters of the country.

These figures echo an alert from the World Food Programme (WFP) released last Tuesday. Nearly 14 million Afghans are facing acute hunger. However, funding cuts have resulted in only one in nine receiving WFP food assistance. Furthermore, 3.7 million children and 1.2 million pregnant and breastfeeding women are projected to be malnourished this year. In order to address the acute food needs across Afghanistan, WFP requires USD 900 million for emergency food assistance and nutrition programmes in 2026.

“We have not met needs in the first six months because we didn’t have money,” said John Aylieff, WFP Country Director for Afghanistan. “WFP still needs $500 million to address the acute food needs in the country.”

On top of the hunger crisis, restrictions on girls and women have compounded the humanitarian situation in Afghanistan. These restrictions shape “almost every aspect of daily life” and “with every new restriction, women are pushed even further out of public life…when people become invisible, they risk becoming dispensable,” said Ms. Cherevko. When humanitarian workers cannot reach girls and women and when women cannot work, or girls cannot go to school, “the consequences extend far beyond individuals,” Cherevko added, and that these consequences ultimately affect “the country’s ability to recover.”

The restrictions placed on women and girls also add a layer of complications for humanitarian workers to even reach those in need. Credit: UNHCR/Oxygen Empire Media

Violence and displacement further add to the crises. Since 2023, approximately 6 million Afghans have been forcibly expelled from neighboring countries like Pakistan and Iran. The returnees have increased the strain on Afghanistan’s fragile economy, and for the returnees, there are “simply not enough jobs to sustain them”, Mr. Aylieff said.

Ms. Cherevko emphasized how many of the returnees are “coming into a country that is completely new for them”, where there are also limited prospects for work. UNHCR estimates that almost 3.1 million Afghan refugees require international protection across the sub-region. For 2026, UNHCR has requested just over USD 450 million for its Afghanistan situation funding; however, similar to OCHA’s and the WFP’s appeals, funding is far from being met.

Despite the emphasis on the need for continued and increased funding, Ms. Cherevko stressed that “humanitarian assistance alone cannot resolve these challenges”. She called for investment in medium- and long-term solutions centering on jobs, education and poverty reduction, in addition to emergency humanitarian assistance. Having worked in Afghanistan for years, Ms. Cherevko has seen the Afghan people show “extraordinary resilience through endless hardship”. Yet, she noted that“resilience should never become a substitute for opportunity or an excuse for the world just to watch and expect people to endure indefinitely without the support they need”.

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I have spent my life on an island. From the granite hills of Mahé, one can watch the sun rise over an ocean that has fed, protected and defined the Seychellois people for centuries.

James Alix Michel

The horizon no longer glows only with the soft light of dawn. Across Canada, Europe and the Americas, it has glimmered this year with the harsh, reddish hue of wildfire smoke. “The Earth is burning” is no longer a slogan. It is a description of an ordinary Tuesday in Ontario, or a July afternoon in Barcelona.

Consider what has actually happened these past months. Canada has watched more than three million hectares of forest burn this year — an area roughly the size of Belgium — prompting the government to declare its highest level of national fire preparedness and to deploy its armed forces alongside thousands of firefighters. In northwestern Ontario, a single blaze, the Thunder Bay 36 fire, has become the largest ever recorded in that province’s history. Researchers who studied the season found that nearly all of that destruction, some 94 percent of it, occurred in just five weeks, as heat and drought converged.

Across the Atlantic, the story repeats with a different accent. This past June was the hottest ever recorded in western Europe, and the world’s oceans registered their warmest June surface temperatures on record, according to the World Meteorological Organization. Spain’s Fabra Observatory in Barcelona logged 40.5°C on 8 July, its hottest reading in more than a century of measurements. Germany saw 252 weather stations break all-time records. France recorded its hottest day ever, with a national average temperature of 30°C, and declared a red heat alert across 58 of its departments — nearly the entire country.

I did not grow up believing a nation the size of France could be placed, almost in its entirety, under a single heat emergency. This year, it happened.

In the Middle East the temperature this year has exceeded 52 degrees.

None of this is accidental, and none of it is isolated. It is one planet, one atmosphere, one ocean, responding as any system does when energy keeps being added to it.

I am not a scientist. But I have spent decades in rooms with scientists, diplomats, fishermen and island elders, and I have learned to translate what they know into language anyone can use. Burning oil, coal and gas fills our atmosphere with gases that trap heat close to the Earth, much as a blanket traps warmth against the body. The thicker that blanket becomes, the more aggressively a hotter atmosphere pulls moisture from soil and vegetation — what scientists call rising vapor pressure deficit, and what the rest of us might simply call atmospheric thirst. A thirsty atmosphere turns living forests into dry tinder faster than rainfall can replace what has been lost. At the same time, this extra heat is disturbing the great rivers of wind that once reliably carried cooling weather across a region and moved on. Increasingly, they stall, and heat domes settle over a country for weeks rather than days. When millions of hectares then burn, they release carbon stored for decades, adding still more heat-trapping gas to the air. Fire feeds warming, and warming feeds fire.

It is a loop that does not correct itself. We must correct it.

Small island states are not spectators to this crisis; we are its early warning system. Seychelles does not burn as Ontario or Andalusia does, but our coral reefs bleach and die in ocean heat that barely registers as news elsewhere, and our fishing communities feel shifts in current and temperature years before those shifts appear in a headline.

This is why, a decade ago, my government joined nearly two hundred nations in Paris in agreeing to hold the rise in global temperature well below 2°C above pre-industrial levels, and to pursue every effort to limit it to 1.5°C. That agreement entered into force in November 2016. It remains, imperfect as it is, the clearest promise the nations of the world have ever made to one another about the only atmosphere we share.

We are not keeping that promise quickly enough. Scientific trackers that once projected we would not cross 1.5°C of warming until the middle of this century now estimate, per Europe’s Copernicus Climate Change Service, that we could cross that threshold as early as 2029.

That is not a distant date. Children born this year will not yet be teenagers when it arrives.

I refuse fatalism, because fatalism has never protected a single reef, forest or coastline. What the science asks of us is not mysterious: cut greenhouse gas emissions sharply and immediately, retire dependence on coal, oil and gas far faster than current pledges allow, and invest seriously in the resilience of communities already living through fire seasons, heatwaves and rising seas.

It also asks something specific of leadership. Every government that signed the Paris Agreement carries a responsibility to honor it not as rhetoric for a summit stage, but as a commitment kept in national budgets, energy policy and disaster preparedness. And it asks something of every citizen: to demand of our leaders the urgency the data requires, not merely the urgency that is politically convenient.

The forests burning in Canada, the heat scorching Spain and France, and the reefs bleaching in the Indian Ocean are not separate stories. They are chapters of the same story, and we are the ones still writing its ending.

The Earth is burning. Whether it keeps burning, or whether we finally act as one species sharing one planet, remains, for now, our choice to make.

The author served as President of the Republic of Seychelles from 2004 to 2016 and is a longtime advocate for ocean conservation and the blue economy.

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Chickpea farmers in Malawi where the new variety is being piloted. Picture supplied.

By Ignatius Banda
BULAWAYO, Zimbabwe , Aug 5 2026 (IPS)

New chickpea seed research and production have become the new frontier of climate resilience in southern Africa as farmers battle failing cereal production.

Farmers in Zambia, Malawi and Mozambique are benefiting from a new chickpea variety which researchers say requires lower nitrogen fertiliser at a time such agriculture inputs have become the latest victim of global trade disruptions that are driving production costs.

The variety, high in its nutritional value, is also boosting farmer incomes while also driving exports, researchers say.

For a long time African farmers have struggled with both poor yields and low-nutrition crops amid concerns of stunted growth, especially among children.

These agriculture science interventions come at a time of concerns about how best the Global South, affected by climate change, can navigate what has increasingly become the complex nature of food production.

The International Crops Research Institute for the Semi-Arid Tropics (ICRISAT), with support from the Food and Agriculture Organization of the United Nations (FAO) through the Benefit-Sharing Fund (BSF) of the International Treaty on Plant Genetic Resources for Food and Agriculture (ITPGRFA), is driving the efforts to “reduce dependency on costly agricultural inputs”.

According to a recent ICRISAT briefing, “The initiative is particularly relevant at a time when geopolitical instability, fertiliser supply disruptions, and rising production costs are affecting vulnerable dryland farming systems across Southern Africa.”

As a result of the disruption of global food distribution networks, prices of basic commodities have soared in Africa as governments scramble to boost both production and farmer incomes, while international finance institutions continue to urge governments to do away with agriculture subsidies.

“With fertiliser prices and agricultural production costs continuing to rise globally, resilient legume crops such as chickpeas are becoming increasingly important in helping farmers across Malawi and Southern Africa maintain productivity, strengthen food security, and reduce dependence on costly agricultural inputs,” said Dr Himanshu Pathak, ICRISAT director general.

Several southern African countries have experienced a series of climate and economic pressures, highlighting the urgency of strengthening resilience, ICRISAT researchers say.

According to the Famine Early Warning System Network, countries such as Zimbabwe will also face cereal deficits in low-rainfall regions up to the beginning of 2027, further highlighting the urgency of new drought-resistant varieties.

While developed countries have for years pledged to support poorer countries in dealing with the impact of climate change on food production, researchers say little has emerged to address Africa’s historic food insecurity.

According to the latest ICRISAT research, “chickpea requires lower nitrogen fertiliser inputs, making it an attractive option for farmers facing rising production costs and climate pressures.”

“Notably adapted to the semi-arid tropics, chickpea exhibits remarkable resilience in harsh environmental conditions, including heat and drought,” notes an ICRISAT update.

“Its high nutritional content, long shelf life, and culinary versatility make it a favourite ingredient in various traditional and modern dishes, further cementing its role in global diets,” the agency adds in a briefing charting the benefits of the chickpea variety.

“Across many dryland regions, farmers are facing rising production costs, declining soil fertility, and increasingly unpredictable weather patterns,” said Dr James Mwololo, a scientist leading the ICRISAT legume breeding project.

“Chickpea is emerging as a strategic crop for dryland agriculture because it offers farmers a viable pathway to maintain productivity and incomes under increasingly difficult growing conditions,” said Mwololo, who is also the project’s principal investigator.

Chickpea yields remain low in Malawi, with farmers harvesting a little over 800 kilograms per hectare last year “despite improved varieties having the potential to produce up to 3 tonnes per hectare,” Mwololo added.

“With greater access to quality seed, national production is expected to increase more than threefold from the 2022 baseline of 2,570 metric tonnes, while the number of farming households reached could expand from 22,000 to more than 66,000 by 2027,” Mwololo said.

These science-based interventions have been welcomed by farmer representatives, who say they see market opportunities for the new chickpea variety that ICRISAT says will improve incomes at the household level.

“Our partnership with ICRISAT goes beyond traditional improved seed development,” said Gloria Pekani, chief executive officer of Milele Agro-processors in Malawi.

“It is also about creating both stronger market opportunities and supporting livelihoods for farmers, processors, and communities that increasingly depend on resilient crops such as chickpea,” Pekani said.

Malawi is considered one of the poorest countries in the world, where nutrition concerns persist, and is among several countries where agro-science is touted as a long-term panacea for food insecurity.

In countries such as Sudan, the Food and Agriculture Organisation (FAO) says cereal production is at an all-time low because of the “ongoing conflict, rising agricultural inputs costs and disruptions to livelihoods and markets, further exacerbating food insecurity across the country”.

The new chickpea research is expected to address these concerns across the African continent, where countries such as Mozambique, where the research is being piloted, face the same civil conflict challenges as Sudan that have disrupted rural agricultural activities.

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Credit: Joseph Barrientos on Unsplash

By James Alix Michel
VICTORIA, Seychelles, Aug 3 2026 (IPS)

Earlier this year, I called publicly for a precautionary pause on deep-sea mining, arguing that it is not a rejection of progress, but a commitment to sound science.

I made that appeal because I believed governments meeting this year at the International Seabed Authority (ISA) would finally choose caution over haste. Watching the results emerge from Kingston, Jamaica, over these past weeks, I must admit to real disappointment.

But I want to be equally clear: disappointment is not defeat, and there is still every reason for hope.

The 31st session of the ISA concluded its work in Kingston with the Council ending two weeks of negotiations on 24 July without adopting the long-debated Mining Code. Unresolved issues, ranging from environmental safeguards and liability to inspection, compliance and benefit-sharing, remain exactly that: unresolved.

Governments including France, Costa Rica, South Africa, Mexico, Germany, Palau and Brazil rightly insisted these gaps must be closed before any commercial mining is contemplated. That the Authority could not bridge them after fifteen years of negotiation tells its own story about how far science and governance still lag behind commercial ambition.

James Alix Michel

That pressure has an external source too. The United States, which is not a party to the Law of the Sea Convention and sits outside the ISA altogether, has continued to advance its own unilateral licensing process for the Clarion-Clipperton Zone, the vast Pacific seabed that holds the largest concentration of exploration contracts on Earth. Five applications are already on record, with reports suggesting more may follow. When a single state can simply step outside a multilateral framework and issue permits for a shared global commons, it does not just threaten the ocean floor; it threatens the very idea that humanity can govern anything collectively. That, to me, is Kingston’s deeper failure: not that a code went unfinished, but that the multilateral system protecting our common heritage was tested, and did not hold as firmly as it should.

And yet.

I have spent much of my life in rooms where the odds seemed stacked against the ocean, and I have learned that setbacks in these negotiations are rarely the last word. There is real cause for hope in what else happened in Kingston.

When four deep-sea mining companies sought observer status at the Assembly, dozens of governments pushed back, and the decision was postponed rather than rushed through. Vanuatu brought forward an agenda item on “Ensuring Adequate Scientific Understanding to Support Informed Decision-Making,” precisely the argument I have been making since earlier this year: that we cannot regulate what we do not yet understand. And crucially, the Council did not simply walk away. It agreed a roadmap for further work, inviting states and observers to submit written proposals on the outstanding issues by 1 October 2026. The door to a properly safeguarded process remains open. It has not been slammed shut.

Most encouraging of all is the growing number of nations refusing to be rushed. When I first raised this call earlier this year, more than 40 countries had already backed a moratorium or precautionary pause. Today that number stands at 45, including seven Pacific nations, alongside outright bans by France and by Palau and New Caledonia within their own waters. They are joined by more than 70 companies, 82 financial institutions representing some €24 trillion in assets, and over 900 scientists from more than 70 countries, all saying the same thing: we do not yet know enough to proceed safely.

This is not an anti-mining movement. It is a pro-science movement. Nobody serious is arguing that the world will never need these minerals, or that the seabed must remain untouched forever. What I am arguing, and what the evidence increasingly supports, is that decisions with potentially irreversible consequences for ecosystems we have barely begun to map should not be made under commercial or geopolitical pressure. Scientists directly observed less than a tenth of the size of Belgium’s worth of deep seafloor before these negotiations began. This year’s IUCN Red List found that 62 percent of molluscs known only from hydrothermal vents are now at risk of extinction, many of them identified within the last decade. We are still discovering what we might destroy, and we are only beginning to understand the deep seabed’s role in storing carbon and regulating ocean chemistry.

I say this as someone who has governed a small island nation whose entire future is tied to the health of its ocean. Seychelles did not treat marine protection and economic progress as opposing forces. Through marine spatial planning protecting thirty percent of our waters, and the world’s first sovereign blue bond, we showed precaution can be financed and delivered without halting development. That experience is precisely why I believe a precautionary pause on deep-sea mining is a down payment on progress, not a brake on it.

Small island developing states cannot afford to gamble with the ocean systems that feed us and anchor our economies. I say this with humility: Seychelles has banned deep-sea mining in its own waters under our Marine Spatial Plan, yet is not among the 45 nations formally backing the international moratorium. That gap between what we protect at home and what we champion abroad is one I hope Seychelles, and others like it, will now close.

So my message to fellow leaders, particularly across Africa and the small island states that depend most on healthy oceans, is this:

Kingston’s disappointment is real, but it is not the end of the story. Forty-five nations have already shown that caution and ambition can coexist. I urge every government that has not yet done so, especially those still weighing their position ahead of the October deadline for written proposals, to add its voice to that growing coalition. This is not about obstructing progress; it is about demanding the evidence that ensures whatever progress we make does no lasting harm to the seabed we all share. I also urge regional bodies, from the African Union to Pacific and Caribbean groupings, to adopt common positions, so no single small state stands alone against powerful commercial interests.

The common heritage of humankind deserves patience as much as ambition. Kingston reminded us how much work remains. It also reminded us how many are still willing to do it.

James Alix Michel is the former President of Seychelles (2004-2016), Founder of the James Michel Foundation and the University of Seychelles, and a global advocate for the blue economy, ocean conservation and climate resilience.

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Dominica's geothermal power plant. As Caribbean countries seek to reduce their dependence on imported fossil fuels, renewable energy remains a key pillar of the regional resilience agenda advanced by CARICOM leaders. Credit: Alison Kentish/IPS

By Alison Kentish
GROS ISLET, Saint Lucia , Aug 3 2026 (IPS)

From wars that drive up fuel prices to supply chain disruptions, inflation and increasingly frequent climate disasters, Caribbean leaders say many of the forces shaping the region’s future lie beyond their control.

Their response, however, is not resignation.

Instead, leaders of the Caribbean Community (CARICOM), the region’s largest economic grouping, are pursuing a strategy built on strengthening the systems they believe they can influence, hoping to make one of the world’s most climate-vulnerable regions more resilient to external shocks. These include food and energy security, transportation, healthcare, artificial intelligence and regional trade.

At their recent summit in Saint Lucia, the leaders argued that CARICOM must be judged less by declarations than by whether regional cooperation improves people’s daily lives.

“Our discussions have been guided by one central objective, ensuring that CARICOM delivers results that people can see and feel in their everyday lives,” CARICOM Chairman and Saint Lucia Prime Minister Philip J. Pierre said as he outlined the meeting’s outcomes.

“Heads of government focused on the issues that matter most to the people of the region.”

Those priorities included the rising cost of living, food security, affordable transportation, disaster resilience and the challenge of building stronger economies in an uncertain global environment.

Leaders acknowledged that inflation in food, fuel, freight and electricity has largely been driven by global conflicts, supply chain disruptions and commodity price shocks, which small island economies have little ability to influence. While several governments have introduced temporary measures to cushion households, they argued that lasting relief will require deeper regional cooperation on transportation, consumer protection and trade.

“We will work together,” said Barbados Prime Minister Mia Amor Mottley, who leads CARICOM’s work on the Caribbean Single Market and Economy. “None of us is omniscient, none of us has all the answers, and none of us are omnipotent as well.”

One of the summit’s most tangible initiatives was renewed work toward an affordable intra-regional ferry service, long viewed as critical to reducing freight costs, improving travel and strengthening food security. Leaders said the proposal would begin with a proof of concept using existing ferry capacity while governments harmonise regulations governing licensing, insurance and vehicle movement across borders.

The initiative complements CARICOM’s “25 by 2025 Plus Five” programme, which aims to reduce the region’s food import bill by expanding agricultural production and strengthening regional supply chains. Leaders argued that producing and transporting more food within the Caribbean would make the region less vulnerable to global disruptions.

Energy security emerged as another defining theme.

Prime Minister Terrance Drew of St Kitts and Nevis said that the Caribbean’s greatest vulnerability is not a lack of energy resources but its continued dependence on imported fossil fuels.

“We don’t have an energy issue,” Drew said. “We have an energy-harnessing issue.”

Pointing to the region’s abundant solar, geothermal, wind and wave resources, Drew said renewable energy offers perhaps the greatest long-term opportunity to stabilise Caribbean economies, reduce electricity costs and improve living standards.

“There’s nothing that can really stabilise our economy, or transform our economy, or deal with this constant up and down, like stabilising our energy sources,” he said.

Recognising that technological change will also reshape the region’s future, CARICOM agreed to establish a regional Blue Ribbon Commission on Artificial Intelligence. Leaders said the commission will develop regional guidance on AI, helping member states capitalise on its benefits while managing risks around jobs, privacy and ethics.

Climate resilience also remained central to the discussions.

Leaders reaffirmed their commitment to limiting global warming to 1.5 degrees Celsius while continuing to advocate internationally for the special circumstances of Small Island Developing States. They also advanced work on a regional insurance and reinsurance strategy aimed at improving financial protection for governments, businesses and households, as climate-related disasters become more frequent and more costly.

Historical justice remained firmly on the regional agenda. Leaders endorsed renewed efforts to advance CARICOM’s Ten-Point Plan for Reparatory Justice through closer engagement with the African Union, upcoming Commonwealth meetings and other international forums.

The agenda set in Gros Islet, Saint Lucia, has effectively set CARICOM’s agenda for the months ahead. From advancing ferry connectivity and renewable energy to strengthening food security, disaster resilience and artificial intelligence governance, the challenge now is implementation.

For Caribbean citizens, the measure of success will not be the number of declarations adopted but whether regional cooperation delivers tangible improvements in everyday life.

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