It was Christmas eve: some two decades ago. Binalakshmi Nepram was a witness to the killing of a 27-year-old.
In utter disbelief, she saw a group of three men dragging the victim from his workshop. Within minutes, he was shot dead.
The world is pouring trillions of dollars each year into activities that destroy nature while investing only a fraction of that amount in protecting and restoring the ecosystems on which economies depend, according to a new United Nations report released on January 22.
In 2025, global ocean temperatures rose to some of the highest levels ever recorded, signaling a continued accumulation of heat within the Earth’s climate system and raising deep concern among climate scientists. The economic toll of ocean-related impacts—including collapsing fisheries, widespread coral reef degradation, and mounting damage to coastal infrastructure—is now estimated to be nearly double the global cost of carbon emissions, placing immense strain on economies and endangering millions of lives.
Izete dos Santos Costa, also known as Dona Nena among locals in Combu Island, welcomed hundreds of people from around the world during the recent climate conference in Belém.
Her team showcased local crafts and chocolate-making processes in the land of the Amazon rainforest—far from the deafening air conditioner sounds at the Parque da Cidade, where the COP30 negotiations were ongoing.
Opinions have been divided over the annual UN climate conferences. While some see COP30 in Belém, Brazil, as confirming their irrelevance, others see it as a turning point in the struggle for climate justice.
Farmers can now know and benefit from their contribution to climate change thanks to a formula that can be used to calculate the amount of carbon stored in fruit trees.
For years, smallholder farmers across Kenya have been engaged in a legal battle with the government over a law that criminalizes the practice of saving, sharing and exchanging indigenous seeds.
On the Pacific Islands, where the ocean horizon is both a lifeline and a warning, communities have long interpreted environmental change through traditional knowledge, lived experiences, stories, and practice. Their observations echo those across the Pacific region, where traditional knowledge remains central to understanding shifting environments and responsible stewardship.
A new study and interactive dashboard released today in Nairobi at the seventh session of the United Nations Environment Assembly (UNEA) finds that current international financial flows remain billions of dollars short of what is required to achieve the global biodiversity target of protecting and conserving at least 30 percent of the world’s land and ocean by 2030 (30x30).
At dawn in the mangrove-choked Rufiji estuary, paddles from wooden canoes slice through still waters as a soft voice drifts across the tide.
“There will never be a better time than now to invest in a stable climate, thriving ecosystems, and resilient lands, or in sustainable development that delivers for all,” said Amina J. Mohammed, the deputy Secretary-General of the United Nations, during the opening plenary of the seventh meeting of the UN Environment Assembly (UNEA-7) taking place from December 8 to 12, 2025.
For years, Morris Onyango had been trying to reforest his degraded land on the shores of River Nzoia, in Siaya county, 430 kilometers from Kenya’s Capital, Nairobi. But every time he planted trees on his farm, his efforts bore little fruit, as floodwaters would not only wash away his tree seedlings but also fertile topsoil on his land.
Nature is a double-edged sword for global business. A groundbreaking report will reveal how businesses profit from exploiting natural resources while simultaneously impacting biodiversity.
“I see more philanthropic support aligning with systems thinking, linking climate stability, biodiversity protection, Indigenous leadership, and community resilience,” says Michael Northrop, Program Director at the Rockefeller Brothers Fund.
As geopolitical challenges and tensions escalate globally, one thing is clear: fragmented politics will not fix a fractured planet. This is why the United Nations Environment Assembly (UNEA) – the world’s highest decision-making body on the environment – is so critical to address our shared and emerging environmental threats.
The UN climate talks at COP30 once again brought the critical issue of climate finance to the forefront of global discussions.
However, while much of the debate revolved around traditional forms of aid directed at developing countries most vulnerable to the impacts of climate change, a faster, more
transformative approach lies in expanding access to carbon markets.
When the world gathered in Glasgow for COP26, the mantra was “building back better.” Two years later, in Sharm El Sheikh, COP27 promised “implementation.” This year, in Belém, Brazil, COP30 arrived with a heavier burden: to finally bridge the chasm between lofty rhetoric and the urgent, measurable steps needed to keep 1.5 °C alive.
On a warm morning at Matemwe, a small crowd gathers behind a rope barrier as the sand begins to tremble. A tiny head pushes through a soft mound of earth, then another, and another. Within minutes, the shallow nest—protected for weeks by a ring of wooden stakes and mesh—comes alive with the rustle of dozens of hatchlings. Volunteers crouch nearby, recording the emergence time and shading the small creatures with their hands to protect them from swooping gulls.
COP30 in Belém is not just another annual climate meeting; it is the 32-year report card of the world governance architecture that was conceived at the Rio Earth Summit of 1992. And that is what report card says: delivery has been sporadic, cosmetic and perilously disconnected with the physics of climatic breakdown.
Belém, at the mouth of the Amazon River, was always going to be a symbolic host for the UN COP30 climate summit, but the mood here has gone far beyond symbolism.
Just 30 minutes from where the UN climate negotiations are unfolding in the port city of Belém, Afro-descendant communities are engaged in a fierce struggle for the full recognition and legal titling of their ancestral territories—critical as their security and livelihoods are compromised by businesses wanting to set up contaminating landfill sites and drug cartels.