Interfaith Leaders Need to Unite to Create a Global Consensus on Ecological Morality By Dr. Iyad Abumoghli* Dr. Iyad Abumoghli meeting with Pope Leo XIV at the Vatican on October 3, 2025. Photo courtesy of Iyad Abumoghli For decades now, humanity has possessed enough scientific evidence to know that our current relationship with the Earth is unsustainable. We know what is happening to our climate. We know what is happening to biodiversity, and we know what is happening to our soils, forests, rivers, and oceans. And yet despite unprecedented scientific knowledge, environmental degradation continues. This raises an uncomfortable question. If science has already told us what is happening, why are we still unable to change course? After more than four decades working at the intersection of environment, policy, and faith, I have come to believe that the answer lies not in a lack of information but in a crisis of worldview or what I have been calling a crisis of “moral responsibility.” The environmental crisis is not only an ecological crisis. It is a crisis of values, a crisis of meaning, and a crisis of our understanding of who we are and our place in the web of life. The environmental crisis is not only an ecological crisis. It is a crisis of values, a crisis of meaning, and a crisis of our understanding of who we are and our place in the web of life. Commodifying the Natural World For centuries, modern civilization has been largely shaped by a materialist worldview that measures success primarily through economic growth, consumption, production, and accumulation. This worldview has generated extraordinary achievements. Yes, it has advanced science, technology, medicine, and human prosperity. But it has also carried a hidden assumption that nature exists primarily as a resource for human use. Forests become timber. Rivers become water supplies. Animals become commodities. Land becomes an asset. And the Earth, therefore, becomes a warehouse. When viewed through this lens, exploitation becomes normal, protection becomes secondary, and stewardship becomes optional. Today, however, we are witnessing the limits of this paradigm. The ecological crises facing humanity are forcing us to ask deeper questions. What if the Earth is more than a collection of resources? What if value cannot be measured only in monetary terms? What if human flourishing depends not only on domination of nature but on harmony with it? These questions invite us toward what many scholars describe as a postmaterialist worldview. A worldview that recognizes that meaning, ethics, spirituality, relationships, compassion, and responsibility are not secondary to human development but are central to it. Science can tell us how ecosystems function. Faith can help us understand why they matter. And this is where faith traditions have an indispensable contribution to make. Not because faith replaces science, not because faith provides technical solutions, but because faith speaks to the dimensions of a human existence that science alone cannot address. Science can tell us how ecosystems function. Faith can help us understand why they matter. Science can measure the concentration of carbon dioxide. Faith can inspire the moral courage to reduce it. Science can explain interdependence, but faith can transform interdependence into responsibility. Dr. Abumoghli greets King Charles III at an environmental conference at the Vatican on October 3, 2025. Photo courtesy of Iyad Abumoghli Throughout my career at the UN Environment Programme, I have witnessed this transformative power firsthand. When I first began engaging faith communities on environmental issues, many people—even within the UN—questioned whether religion had any role to play in sustainability. Environmental policy was viewed as the domain of scientists, economists, and governments. Faith communities were largely absent from the global environmental conversation. Yet, I had seen something others often overlooked. Faith traditions reached into the hearts of people in ways that institutions and policies alone cannot. They shape values. They influence behavior. They create moral communities, and they answer the question not only of what we should do but why we should do it. Bridging Science and Religion This understanding led us to build bridges between environmental science and religious wisdom. One of the most inspiring examples was the Confluence of Conscience summit that I organized in Abu Dhabi in 2023. At that conference, faith leaders from diverse traditions came together not to debate theology but to affirm a shared moral responsibility toward the Earth. What struck me most was how quickly differences dissolved when the conversation shifted from doctrine to responsibility. Different religions used different languages. Some spoke of stewardship, others of trusteeship, others of sacred interconnectedness, but the message was remarkably similar: The Earth is not ours to exploit. It is ours to protect. Humility, compassion, justice, moderation, responsibility, gratitude, care for future generations. All of these are not merely religious values. These are ecological necessities. This experience reinforced a profound lesson. The world’s faith traditions may differ in belief, but they converge around ethical principles that can guide humanity toward a more sustainable future: humility, compassion, justice, moderation, responsibility, gratitude, care for future generations. All of these are not merely religious values. These are ecological necessities. In my work on the role of ethics in environmental governance, I argued that environmental challenges cannot be solved solely through laws, regulations, or economic incentives. Yes, policies are essential, science is essential, technology is essential, but without ethical foundations, they remain insufficient because every environmental decision ultimately reflects a moral choice. Who benefits? Who bears the cost? What responsibilities do we owe future generations? And what obligations do we have toward other living beings? Ethics provides the compass that allows policy to move in the right direction. Without ethics, governance can become efficient but directionless. With ethics, governance gains purpose. Ecology, Spirituality, and Policy Perhaps the most important environmental frontier is not external but internal. The greatest transformation we need may not be technological. It may be psychological and spiritual. This realization became particularly clear through my work with the University of Connecticut on mindfulness for the Earth. The project explored a simple but profound idea: The environmental crisis is connected to the way we perceive ourselves. When we see ourselves as separate from nature, exploitation becomes easier. Interfaith participants take a break at the Fourth Session of the UN Environment Assembly, held in Nairobi, Kenya, at the UN Environment Programme headquarters. Photo courtesy of Iyad Abumoghli When we experience ourselves as part of an interconnected living system, care emerges naturally. Mindfulness cultivates awareness. Awareness nurtures empathy. Empathy strengthens responsibility, and responsibility inspires action. This is not abstract philosophy. It has practical implications because many of the behaviors driving environmental degradation are rooted in unconscious habits of consumption, competition, and disconnection. Inner transformation and outer transformation are therefore inseparable. The environmental movement has often focused on changing systems. Faith traditions remind us that lasting change also requires changing hearts. Today, I believe humanity stands at an important threshold. We possess remarkable scientific knowledge. We have sophisticated technologies. We understand environmental risks more clearly than ever before. What we need is now wisdom. Wisdom to align knowledge with values. Wisdom to align power with responsibility. And wisdom to align progress with purpose. This is where the nexus of ethics, science, and policy becomes so important. Science tells us what it is. Ethics helps us to determine what ought to be, and policy translates both into collective action. Science without ethics can become detached from human values. Ethics without science can become disconnected from reality. None of these dimensions can succeed alone. Science without ethics can become detached from human values. Ethics without science can become disconnected from reality. And policy without either can become ineffective. But when these three work together, they become transformative. This integration represents one of the greatest opportunities of our time, and faith communities have a unique role to play in this process—not as observers, not as critics, but as partners, partners in cultivating ecological consciousness, partners in nurturing moral leadership, and partners in reminding humanity that the Earth is not merely an economic asset but a sacred trust. The transition from exploitation to protection is ultimately not about changing our relationship with nature. It is about changing our understanding of ourselves. When we recognize that we are part of a larger living community, protection ceases to be a sacrifice. It becomes an expression of who we are. Faith traditions have preserved this wisdom for centuries. Science increasingly now confirms it. The challenge before us is to translate it into policy or institutions and to our daily life. Ecological Upsurge among Faith Communities My hope comes from witnessing something remarkable over the past three decades. When I started this journey, faith communities were largely absent from environmental discussions. Today, they are among the most dynamic and influential voices calling for ecological responsibility. Around the world, churches, mosques, temples, monasteries, Indigenous communities, and faith-based organizations are mobilizing millions of people to care for creation. Faith leaders at the Confluence of Conscience summit in 2023, joining together to raise awareness about global warming. COP28/Wikipedia CC BY 4.0 This gives me hope because it suggests that humanity is beginning to understand that environmental crisis is not merely about carbon or biodiversity or pollution. It is about consciousness. It is about values. It is about the kind of civilization we wish to become. And if we can draw upon the moral wisdom of our faith traditions, the insights of science, and the tools of good governance, then I believe we can help shape a future where humanity no longer sees itself as the owner of the Earth but as its caretaker. A future where exploitation gives way to protection. A future where material progress is balanced by moral progress. A future where development is measured not only by what we accumulate but by what we preserve and, perhaps most importantly, a future where we rediscover that caring for the Earth is not merely an environmental obligation but a sacred responsibility. *Dr. Iyad Abumoghli is founder and chair of Al Mizan, an organization that connects pro-environmental values with Islamic teachings, urging all people to value and protect nature. He is also former director of the UN Environmental Programme's Faith for Earth Coalition, and a member of the Advisory Council of the United Religions Initiative. The text presented here was an address by Dr. Abumoghli at an International Media Association for Peace webinar in June 2026.

US Scholars Find Hope in Collaboration and Innovation as the Danger Grows By Mark Smith* In May 2021, water levels of Lake Oroville, California, dropped to 38% of capacity. ©Frank Schulenburg/Wikimedia CC BY-SA 4.0 Some environmental concerns seem further away than others, but few are as immediately alarming as drought. The impact on humans can be devastating. From a lack of drinking water and dying crops to the spread of diseases, there are few areas of human suffering that drought does not touch. Indeed, a global assessment by the United Nations Convention to Combat Desertification and the National Drought Mitigation Center found that over a 30-year period, extreme drought events directly affected 1.83 billion people worldwide. And there is no question that the danger posed by drought is growing. A study led by researchers at Beijing Normal University and published in Nature Reviews Earth & Environment found that nearly 30% of the Earth's land surface was gripped by drought, while the Organisation for Economic Co-operation and Development (OECD) reported that 37% of global land has experienced “significant soil moisture loss” since 1980, with droughts being responsible for 34% of disaster-related deaths. Collecting water from a well in Niger. ©NigerTZai/Wikimedia CC BY-SA 4.0 The Real Causes of Drought But what causes drought, and is it simply a case of “not enough rain”? "Scientifically, drought is a deficit in water availability relative to what is normal or needed for a given place and time," said Dr. Amir AghaKouchak, an internationally recognized expert on drought based at the University of California, Irvine. "It can begin with below-normal precipitation, but it often becomes more complex as it affects soil moisture, rivers, reservoirs, groundwater, ecosystems, agriculture, and human water supplies," he said. In other words, drought is not just a weather event but a disruption in what AghaKouchak calls the "water balance." While a lack of rain is the most obvious culprit, poor water management is a critical issue that he said can "turn a dry period into a crisis" or even create drought-like conditions when rainfall is near normal. AghaKouchak told The Earth & I: "If we overallocate rivers, drain reservoirs too aggressively, expand water demand beyond sustainable limits, or fail to protect groundwater, then the system becomes vulnerable even without a major rainfall deficit." "If we overallocate rivers, drain reservoirs too aggressively, expand water demand beyond sustainable limits, or fail to protect groundwater, then the system becomes vulnerable even without a major rainfall deficit." He noted this is closely related to the concept of "anthropogenic drought," where human activities—such as water withdrawals, land-use changes, water diversion, the overbuilding of dams, or inefficient management—cause or intensify drought impacts. While we mostly equate water in nature with rainfall, groundwater—water buried beneath the Earth’s surface—is another primary source, particularly in drier parts of the globe. Pumping too much of it out can play a major role in causing drought. This underground water supply is an asset that AghaKouchak likens to a "water savings account." "During dry periods," he said, "we often rely on it as a backup when rainfall, rivers, or reservoirs are not enough. But when we pump groundwater faster than aquifers can naturally recharge, we are spending more water than we are saving or receiving as income." Over time, he said this leads to a form of "water bankruptcy." "Water tables decline, wells go dry, pumping becomes more expensive, land can subside, and rivers and wetlands that depend on groundwater can lose flow," he explained, adding that in many regions, groundwater depletion shows that drought risk is not only about climate, but also about whether human water use exceeds the long-term capacity of the system. Mitigation Measures Despite the increasing threats of drought, work has been done to successfully mitigate some of its challenges. Dr. Elizabeth Koebele is an environmental governance researcher at the University of Nevada who works extensively on the Colorado River Basin. She noted that in the western US, the municipal sector has made major strides in adapting to drought risk. The iconic Horseshoe Bend in the Colorado River in Arizona, in February 2023. ©Charles Wang/Wikimedia CC BY-SA 4.0 "In many cities across the Colorado River Basin, water use has essentially become decoupled from population growth over the last few decades, meaning that adding more people does not increase water use proportionately," Koebele said. "In many cities across the Colorado River Basin, water use has essentially become decoupled from population growth over the last few decades, meaning that adding more people does not increase water use proportionately.” She pointed out that in Las Vegas, for example, the population has grown by over 800,000 residents in the last 25 years, yet overall consumptive water use has decreased by nearly 30%. "This is largely due to indoor water efficiency improvements," she said. "Nearly half of all water is used inside homes, casinos, hotels, etc. Thanks to efficiency upgrades, about 99% of this water is captured, recycled, and returned to the reservoir that supplies the city’s water." A high drought line can be seen above Lake Mead, the reservoir that supplies Las Vegas with water. US Geological Survey/Wikimedia Public domain While outdoor water use is often harder to reduce, Las Vegas has taken strong measures to remove water-intensive turf and transition regional landscaping. As a result, Nevada has reduced its reliance on the strained Colorado River by 40%. However, Koebele warned that drought response is significantly more challenging in other sectors, such as agriculture. In the Colorado River Basin, approximately 80% of consumptive water use occurs in agriculture. Water is diverted for “flood irrigation” of crops in Arizona. Jeff Vanuga/Wikimedia Public domain While the challenges posed by drought show no signs of lessening, both experts agree that societies can take proactive technological and policy measures to reduce long-term impacts. From a policy and planning perspective, Koebele hopes that future drought impacts can be minimized through continued partnerships and collaboration across different sectors and geographies. "For example," she said, "inland areas in need of water may partner with coastal areas to invest in desalination technology. Cities may jointly fund water recycling efforts that mutually benefit their entire region. Agricultural users may engage in programs to conserve and lease water to others in times of need." She added that designing such programs and policies to actually produce the intended outcomes was “perhaps the most pressing challenge” in the basin, concluding “it will require governance reform alongside an infusion of funding at multiple levels.” Technology as a Solution Alongside policy and planning, technology is also a pillar on which many hopes for tackling drought are pinned. And while AghaKouchak cautions that no single technology will completely solve water insecurity, he said several approaches can still provide significant benefits. This includes things such as better monitoring via satellites, sensors, and predictive models that can reveal emerging risks much earlier. He highlights managed aquifer recharge—which stores water underground during wet periods for use during dry periods—as a prime example. He also highlighted water reuse, stormwater capture, leakage reduction, demand management, and more flexible reservoir operations as vital methods for making modern infrastructure resilient. He added: "The most promising strategies are those that combine technology with better governance and water demand management, because water security depends as much on decisions and institutions as on infrastructure." A New Normal With rising temperatures now increasingly viewed as a "new normal" by climate experts, it is clear that drought will continue to have far-reaching impacts on the global population. They warn that technology alone will not ride to the rescue. Instead, a combination of infrastructure tools and modified human behaviors will be required to ensure that where there is water, not a single drop is wasted. *Mark Smith is a journalist and author from the UK. He has written on subjects ranging from business and technology to world affairs, history, and popular culture for the Guardian, BBC, Telegraph, and magazines in the United States, Europe, and Southeast Asia.

Global Maps Reveal the Vast Underground Networks Supporting Life and Storing Carbon Arbuscular mycorrhizae in the terminal roots of the Horse Gram plant. Rajarshi Rit/Wikimedia Beneath forests, grasslands, farms, and even city landscapes lies a largely invisible, living infrastructure that helps sustain life on Earth. A new global mapping effort has revealed the astonishing scale of arbuscular mycorrhizal (AM) fungi—underground networks that connect with plant roots, transport nutrients and water, and help move carbon into soils. Researchers say these fungal networks represent one of the planet’s most important—yet least understood—ecosystems. The study, published in Science, provides the first global estimates of the density, length, and biomass of these underground fungal networks. The findings highlight both their immense ecological value and the potential risks posed by agricultural expansion and habitat loss. Key Data Points An estimated 110 quadrillion kilometers (68 quadrillion miles) of AM fungal networks exist in the world’s topsoils, making them one of the largest biological structures on Earth. The networks stretch a distance nearly 1 billion times greater than the distance between Earth and the Sun. AM fungi form partnerships with approximately 70% of all plant species worldwide, exchanging nutrients and water for carbon from plants. These fungal networks transfer an estimated 4 billion metric tons of CO₂-equivalent carbon into soils every year, equal to about 11% of annual human-related carbon dioxide emissions. Researchers estimate the global AM fungal network contains about 300 megatons of carbon or roughly four to six times the mass of all living humans. Grasslands contain about 40% of Earth’s AM fungal infrastructure, making them one of the most important habitats for underground fungal networks. Agricultural croplands are predicted to have approximately 50% lower fungal network densities than wild ecosystems. In healthy soils, fungal networks can increase the effective foraging area of plant roots by up to 100 times, helping plants access otherwise unreachable resources. Mycorrhizal fungi can supply more than 80% of a plant’s phosphorus needs, reducing reliance on soil nutrients immediately surrounding roots. Scientists analyzed more than 16,000 soil cores collected around the world to build the new global maps. The research team also examined more than 300,000 living fungal hyphae using robotic imaging technology to estimate global network length and biomass. Researchers estimate there can be as much as 10 meters (32 feet) of fungal network within a single teaspoon of soil. Grasslands are being converted to agricultural land at a rate approximately four times faster than forests, threatening some of the planet’s most important fungal ecosystems. Previous research cited in the study found that 95% of AM fungal biodiversity hotspots lie outside protected areas. The new fungal infrastructure maps provide estimates for every square kilometer of terrestrial land where sufficient data were available. Why It Matters Often overlooked in climate and conservation discussions, mycorrhizal fungi act as a planetary circulatory system, moving carbon, nutrients, and water through ecosystems while supporting the majority of the world’s plant species. The new maps suggest that protecting grasslands and other natural ecosystems may be critical not only for biodiversity but also for maintaining one of Earth’s largest natural carbon-storage networks. Source: https://www.sciencedaily.com/releases/2026/06/260614011845.htm

Choices and Environment Matter By Dhanada K Mishra* Happy, healthy mealtimes could be good for your telomeres. ©Dimple Bhati/istock Imagine a typical morning routine. You hit snooze, gulp down a coffee, scroll through troubling news, and brace yourself for a crowded commute through hazy city air. It feels like just another stressful Tuesday. But what if your body wasn’t just feeling that stress—what if it was recording it, down to the very ends of your chromosomes? To be sure, it’s a bit of a stretch to say that our cells can individually listen to or record specific stressful instances in our lives. But it may come as a surprise to many that harmful changes in our DNA may be enhanced by emotional or psychological stress. It may be further surprising that this harm can be reduced by feelings of security and peace of mind, or by decreases in other types of stressors, such as pollution. Persistent cultural narratives have long held that the human genetic code was a fixed script—that we were simply playing out the hand we were dealt at conception. But a Nobel Prize-winning discovery—along with decades of scientific innovation—has flipped that idea on its head. In fact, scientists have come to see the genetic code as something that can be manipulated. With current bioengineering breakthroughs, it is possible to make specific, desired changes to a person’s genetic makeup. The End-Replication Problem In 2009, scholars Elizabeth Blackburn, Carol Greider, and Jack Szostak received the Nobel Prize in Physiology or Medicine for their discovery of how chromosomes are protected by telomeres, the caps at the ends of chromosomes, and telomerase, an enzyme that protects the telomeres. To the average person, their discovery might not seem consequential, but it solved an important puzzle about cellular function. Every time a cell divides, it faces a structural obstacle called the "end-replication problem." The enzymes responsible for copying DNA, called DNA polymerases, need a small starter, a template, to begin the job of copying DNA onto a new cell. When this template falls off at the absolute tip of a linear chromosome, it leaves an uncopied gap. Because the copying machinery cannot reach the very edge of chromosomes, your chromosomes get slightly shorter every single time a cell reproduces. Your chromosomes get slightly shorter every single time a cell reproduces. Nobel Laureate Elizabeth Blackburn, PhD ©Christopher Michel/Wikimedia CC BY-SA 4.0 In 1961, Leonard Hayflick discovered that normal human cells have a hard limit on how many times they can divide—before stopping. This boundary is now called the Hayflick limit. Ten years later, biologist Alexey Olovnikov realized that chromosome shortening was the cause of this cellular expiration date. He predicted that cells must possess a special "compensating" enzyme designed to extend the ends of chromosomes and protect vital genetic code from being eaten away. In 1985, Greider and Blackburn discovered that special enzyme, and they named it telomerase. Telomerase fixes the gap problem by adding repetitive telomeres (non-coding DNA sequences) onto the ends of chromosomes. Think of telomeres as disposable plastic tips on your shoelaces: when chromosome tips erode during division, only these harmless caps get lost instead of essential genes. In almost all adult human body cells, telomerase is turned off. As a result, your telomeres naturally wear down as you get older until they become critically short, signaling the cell to stop dividing and to enter cellular senescence. Interestingly, research by Blackburn and psychologist Elissa Epel reveals that this aging clock isn't set in stone—chronic stress, poor mindset, and unhealthy environments can reduce the time it takes for telomeres to shorten to critical levels. They and other scientists have found that human cells can sense—and via telomerase our chromosomes can respond to—the impacts of how we live, what we eat, how we feel, and even the quality of the air we breathe. The ‘Biological Rust’ of Chronic Stress So, how exactly does a bad day at work or breathing polluted air affect chromosomes? It comes down to a biological domino effect triggered by cortisol—the primary “stress hormone.” Chronic stress. ©dragana991/istock When people are chronically stressed—worried about money, stuck in a toxic relationship, or dealing with systemic inequality—the body can elevate cortisol levels. High levels of cortisol are associated with oxidative stress inside cells. Telomeric DNA is especially vulnerable to this damage. Imagine a brand-new bicycle left out in the rain; it eventually rusts. Oxidative stress is that “rust” for DNA. It is particularly damaging to telomeres, causing them to degrade faster. To make matters worse, studies suggest that chronic cortisol exposure may suppress telomerase—the body’s natural “repair crew” that rebuilds telomeres. You aren’t just speeding up the damage; you may be disabling the mechanic who fixes it. Telomere dysfunction is now recognized as a driver of pathology across many age-related diseases—including cardiovascular disease, neurodegeneration, and metabolic disorders—often via oxidative stress and inflammation. As Epel notes, it isn’t always the stressor itself that destroys our biology; it’s the rumination. A single stressful event can pass, but if we keep replaying it in our heads, our bodies keep producing cortisol. Our cells don’t know the difference between a physical threat and an anxious thought; they just respond to the chemical signal. It isn’t always the stressor itself that destroys our biology; it’s the rumination. Habits That Help (and Limits of Quick Fixes) If stress and pollution are the “accelerators,” then healthy habits are the “brakes.” Blackburn and Epel emphasize that you don’t need to run a marathon or subsist on kale smoothies to help your telomeres. The science points to modest, sustainable practices: Sleep is a nightly reset. ©Komang dewi/Pexels Prioritize sleep: It is not just rest; it is a nightly reset for the nervous system and immune function. Move your body: Moderate, regular exercise is one of the most robust shields against stress-related cellular damage. Physical activity helps reduce oxidative stress and inflammation while increasing telomerase activity. Eat the rainbow: Diets rich in whole foods, healthy fats (like Omega-3s), and antioxidants help combat that “biological rust,” while heavily processed foods and sugary drinks do the opposite. Cultivate connection: Loneliness is a biological stressor. A calm mealtime with loved ones or a reliable friend to talk to can have physiological benefits that rival any vitamin. Blackburn and Epel have been vocal about debunking hype surrounding their work, such as the use of home telomere tests for determining “biological age.” While lifestyle changes show promise in stabilizing and even modestly lengthening telomeres, the science does not support permanent reversal. The goal isn’t immortality; it is health span—living better, not just longer. Why Your Neighborhood Matters More Than Your Gym Membership This is where the story gets bigger than individual willpower. It would be unfair to tell a person to “just relax” if they live next to a freeway or in a food desert. Environmental health experts are increasingly linking pollution to cellular aging, with effects visible as early as infancy and even before birth. Environmental health experts are increasingly linking pollution to cellular aging, with effects visible as early as infancy and even before birth. Furthermore, social inequality creates chronic “allostatic load”—the wear and tear on the body from persistent insecurity. If your environment is noisy, unsafe, and lacking green spaces, the nervous system remains on high alert. You might make all the “right” personal choices, but if the air is toxic and the neighborhood is isolating, the system is working against you. A New Way to Think About Self-Care Perhaps the most profound insight from this research is that the boundary between self-care and Earth-care is an illusion. We often think of environmentalism as a chore or a sacrifice. But if our cells are listening to the world around us, then restoring the planet is a direct act of self-preservation. When we advocate for cleaner air, we aren’t just saving trees—we are reducing the inflammatory burden on millions of human lungs. When we build walkable cities with green parks, we aren’t just beautifying the landscape, we are creating conditions where social connection and movement become easy and natural—conditions known to relieve stress and potentially protect our telomeres. The science of telomeres may be sending an empowering message: We are not isolated individuals battling our own genetics. We are deeply porous beings, constantly exchanging signals with our social circles and our ecosystems. Ecological restoration and human restoration may be far more interconnected than previously imagined. In those moments when we feel overwhelmed by the state of the world, it is worth remembering that the body's cells may be paying attention. They may be registering the stress, but they may also be registering the moments of restoration—the deep breath of fresh air, the shared meal, the peaceful night’s sleep. Choosing to love and protect the world is more than just being kind to the planet; it is actively creating the conditions for people to thrive. In saving the Earth, we may very well be safeguarding ourselves, right down to the ends of our chromosomes. *Dhanada Kanta Mishra is a PhD in civil engineering from the University of Michigan and is currently working as the managing director of a Hong Kong-based AI startup for building technology for the sustainability of built infrastructure (www.raspect.ai). He writes on environmental issues, sustainability, the climate crisis, and built infrastructure.

Invenergy Beech Ridge Energy Storage System at Beech Ridge Wind Farm in Greenbrier County, West Virginia. Z22/Wikimedia As nations add more solar and wind power to their electricity grids, battery storage is emerging as one of the fastest-growing energy technologies. Recent global data show that batteries are no longer serving only as backup systems or niche grid assets. Instead, they are increasingly helping utilities manage daily fluctuations in electricity demand, store surplus renewable energy, and maintain grid reliability. The rapid rise of battery storage reflects falling technology costs, expanding renewable energy generation, and growing demand for flexible power resources. In many regions, batteries are now taking on roles that were once dominated by conventional power plants, demonstrating how quickly electricity systems are evolving. Key Data Points Global battery storage installations reached 108 gigawatts (GW) of new capacity in 2025, representing approximately 40% growth over the previous year. Utility-scale projects accounted for roughly 87 GW or about 80% of all new battery capacity added worldwide. Battery prices have fallen by more than 90% since 2010, making large-scale deployment more economically viable. About 24 GW of new utility-scale battery projects were paired directly with renewable energy facilities in 2025. Australia added nearly 8 GW of battery capacity in a single year, making it one of the fastest-growing storage markets globally. Battery storage now represents about 18% of Australia's dispatchable electricity capacity, compared with 7% in China, 5% in the United States, and 4% across Europe. China remained the world's largest battery market, installing more than 63 GW of new capacity during 2025. The United States added around 19 GW of battery storage, a year-over-year increase of about 60%. Europe deployed around 6.2 GW of battery capacity in 2025, with utility-scale projects accounting for 4.6 GW. Battery additions in the Middle East exceeded 3 GW, more than tripling from the previous year. Chile installed nearly 1 GW of new battery capacity, largely to capture excess solar power and meet evening demand. The share of battery projects designed primarily to shift energy from one time of day to another grew from about 40% in 2015 to more than 90% in 2025. Projects focused mainly on ancillary grid services declined from roughly 45% of new installations in 2015 to about 7% in 2025, reflecting changing market needs. Why It Matters For decades, electricity systems relied primarily on fossil-fuel generators to respond to changing demand throughout the day. The rapid expansion of battery storage is creating a new model in which renewable energy can be stored when production is abundant and delivered when it is needed most. As deployment accelerates and costs continue to decline, batteries are becoming an increasingly important tool for building cleaner, more flexible, and more resilient power systems. Source: International Energy Agency, Analyst Consultant Commentary, 5/29/2026

How OceansWide Removes Abandoned Lobster Traps for Upcycling By Becky Hoag* OceansWide team hauling in a trap near Vinalhaven, Maine. Image courtesy of Laura Sitterly When Campbell “Buzz” Scott started his scuba diving and remote-operated vehicle (ROV) piloting classes years ago, he was hoping to inspire the next generation to fall in love with the ocean like he did. But as he surveyed the bottom of the Maine coastal waters with his first students, they couldn’t stop staring at the plethora of abandoned lobster traps below. “Ghost traps,” they’re called. Tens of thousands of them. An abandoned “ghost” lobster trap on the ocean floor. ©KGrif/istock “When we came out here and the kids were seeing the traps on the bottom, we realized we can do something about this—and it is a big issue, so we will do something about it,” Scott recalled. And just like that, his next venture was laid out in front of him. Scott founded OceansWide in 2007 to band together educators, students, researchers, and fishermen to promote ocean conservation and exploration and to remove lobster traps from the Maine ocean floor. Buzz Scott (at right) and team at work near Vinalhaven, Maine. Once a trap is spotted below by sonar and a diver locates it, a line is sent down to the diver who hooks it to the trap. The trap is hauled up and secured on the boat. Image courtesy of Laura Sitterly OceansWide has already removed more than 30,000 traps over the last five years, and the speed at which they’re removing traps is increasing exponentially as they gain more support. But the organization estimates there’s about 5 million to 10 million traps lost in the Gulf of Maine’s 36,000 square miles. “We realized we need to expand [our goal] to 500,000 traps per year in order to get the traps that are now on the bottom and keep up with the traps that [the lobster industry] is losing on an annual basis.” The organization estimates there’s about 5 million to 10 million traps lost in the Gulf of Maine. OceansWide hopes to reach this yearly target by 2028. Lifelong Dedication to the Ocean Founding OceansWide wasn’t too big of a leap for Scott, as he had already dedicated his life to learning how to help the oceans. Growing up fishing on Maine’s Matinicus Isle in the 1970s and 1980s, he saw firsthand the impact overfishing had on the ecosystems there. The catch was plentiful when he was a kid, but it got so low by the time he was in his 20s that the only fishing industry that hadn’t crashed was lobster. And even that industry’s catch fluctuated a lot. Suddenly, the ocean didn’t feel as impervious to human impacts as once thought, so Scott left his little island in search of how to help the oceans heal. “We’ve got to do something to fight for the ocean that gave us our livelihood,” Scott said. That search led him to earn a science and engineering degree before joining the Navy, working on research in the Antarctic and then becoming an ROV technician and pilot for the Monterey Bay Aquarium Research Institute (MBARI) in California. MBARI conducts ocean research for deep sea exploration and marine conservation purposes. After gaining all this experience in the span of two decades, Scott felt the pull to head back to Maine and teach kids there how to explore the oceans through scuba diving and piloting ROVs. Scott’s many years of ROV operating brought him around the world, so he knew ocean debris was a big issue everywhere. Conducting research on the issue wasn’t the same as cleaning it up, though. “The researchers [I worked with] didn’t want to do anything about the trash,” Scott recalled. “They just wanted to do their research…which I understand. It’s what they are paid to do.” Now, back in Maine, looking beneath the waves with his new OceansWide students, Scott realized that he could actually do something about this problem. How the Graveyard of Lobster Traps Grew Outdated wooden lobster traps. Erik Maclean/Pexels When Scott was a kid, lobster traps were primarily made of wood. If a trap got caught on something on the bottom of the ocean, fishermen would have little choice but to cut it loose. And because traps were made of wood they would just decompose over time. In the 1980s, a new model of lobster traps hit the market. These traps were made of wire and several different materials, including plastic, that don’t decompose quickly, if at all. The $1 billion lobster fishing industry continues to lose traps like they did before, but now the traps just remain intact underwater. According to the Gulf of Maine Lobster Foundation, about 175,000 traps are lost in the Gulf of Maine every year, representing about 5% to 15% of the traps used. Scott thinks the real number lost is closer to 250,000 to 350,000 a year. According to the Gulf of Maine Lobster Foundation, about 175,000 traps are lost in the Gulf of Maine every year, representing about 5% to 15% of the traps used. “[The traps] are not purposely left there,” Scott clarified. “These things cost way too much to leave there on purpose. They’re $200 apiece.” Fishermen have tried to salvage traps by grappling the bottom of the ocean, but this method can disturb the life on the ocean floor. That’s why OceansWide advocates for fishermen to work with divers and ROV pilots to retrieve the traps instead. A diver working with a camera-equipped ROV. ©Yoleeth/Wikimedia CC BY-SA 4.0 There are so many traps already on the bottom that new traps are now getting snagged by old traps. Ghost traps roll along the bottom of the sea floor, ripping up mussel beds and tangling with each other to form bigger tumbleweeds of debris. “It just wreaks havoc on those [organisms] who like to live stationary lives on the bottom,” Scott said. Scott and his students have seen all kinds of organisms caught in these traps. One time he rescued a flounder that had been caught in a trap with its fins being eaten away as a result. The traps don’t always stay on the ocean floor, either. They can tumble onto the nearby beaches and sink into the sand, making shores hazardous for children to play on. Bringing Fishermen Onboard When Scott started his project, he worked with students to start cleaning up the ghost traps. He treaded lightly around the local fishermen because he didn’t want them to feel attacked or defensive about the issue. Scott knew getting fishermen on his side was essential to getting this work off the ground. Thankfully, when fishermen saw the work OceansWide was doing, it didn’t take much for them to get involved. “We want to make sure that [the fishermen] are seen as much a hero as you might think we are,” Scott told The Earth & I. “They’ve seen the issue. They’ve understood the issue. They’ve understood that they’re part of the problem and they are trying their hardest to help us out.” Lobstermen at work using modern traps. ©Mrosen99/Wikimedia CC BY-SA 4.0 “We want to make sure that [the fishermen] are seen as much a hero as you might think we are.” Despite spending every day out in the ocean, many fishermen don’t often see what’s beneath the water line. This can make the issue a bit “out of sight, out of mind,” Scott said. But when Scott’s students show interested fishermen what their ROVs capture, their urge to help tackle the issue grows. Additionally, lobster catchers can see a tangible difference in their catch quantities after a harbor is cleaned up. “The fishermen saw us taking all these traps off the bottom and said, ‘Well let’s go in and fish that area and see if that’s improved the fishing,’” Scott said. “And, sure enough, they went into a spot where they could barely catch a lobster and, all of a sudden, their traps were full!” After that, fishermen started volunteering to help clean up the traps and word-of-mouth kept Scott and his team busy visiting different fishing communities around Maine to tell them about OceansWide. Last winter, Scott was invited to visit fishermen in Vinalhaven to start work there. They’ve already removed 5,000 traps from one harbor alone. Full Scale Disposal OceansWide works with 27 divers and about 10 vehicle operators to help remove ghost traps. The organization utilizes high-tech sonar to survey how many traps are below. Fishermen volunteer to help remove and transport the recovered traps. The process goes further than just removing the traps too. OceansWide works with engineers to make sure every part of the trap is properly recycled or disposed of in a program called Traps to Treasure. The team of staff and volunteers separates the plastics, aluminum, and bricks from the traps before crushing the traps to be recycled. Then they properly recycle the aluminum and give the bricks to folks to reuse for structures like patios. OceansWide works with engineers to make sure every part of the trap is properly recycled or disposed of in a program called Traps to Treasure. “We have recycled almost 100% of the traps,” Scott said. “The only things that are getting us are the net heads and the [PVC] on the wire itself.” Piles of OceansWide’s salvaged ghost traps to be crushed and recycled through Traps to Treasure. Image courtesy of Laura Sitterly OceansWide is actively working to find ways to recycle or reuse those parts. They estimate that it takes $7 to $8 to recycle each trap, and over twice as much if the traps were recovered off an island’s coast, due to travel and other costs. The nonprofit compensates fishermen who help with this process. Big Wins Despite Little Money OceansWide’s work continues to be primarily funded by individual donations and family foundation grants. It has also received nearly $200,000 for marine debris removal, according to the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Agency (NOAA). Scott hopes this financial support will grow as their work continues. Like many Mainers, he sees the health of the fishing industry as vital to maintaining the state’s cultural heritage. “When we were kids, we had all these fisheries. Now we don’t,” Scott said. “If we could do something to bring them back so that our children and our children’s children can live in the culture we’ve lived in, we can continue the heritage we’ve had.” OceansWide works to restore Maine’s fishing heritage. Image courtesy of Laura Sitterly Scott also has hope for the future through seeing fishermen begin to grasp the importance of this work and teaching the next generation to love the ocean. He thinks he has another decade in him to continue this work before letting his former students take over. “I’m passionate about it, the kids that work with us are [passionate], and I think we’re inspiring the next generation,” Scott said excitedly. “I’m really enthusiastic about it and even some of the old, old guard in the fishing communities are changing their minds. And that’s a very hard thing to do: change a fisherman’s mind.” *Becky Hoag is a freelance environmental reporter. You can find her work on her site beckyhoag.com and through her YouTube channel https://youtube.com/beckisphere.

But Authenticity Matters Gen Z on their phones. fauxels/Pexels Social media has become one of the primary ways Generation Z (ages 18 to 27) learns about the world—including environmental issues. A new two-part study from the Penn Center for Science, Sustainability, and the Media at the University of Pennsylvania examined how sustainability-focused TikTok creators communicate with young audiences and how Gen Z responds to that messaging. The research combined interviews with eight sustainability influencers plus a national survey of Gen Z TikTok users. Together, the findings suggest that young people are highly interested in sustainability regardless of political ideology, but that trust, authenticity, and practical advice are essential if influencers hope to inspire real-world environmental action. Key Data A cohort of 443 Gen Z TikTok users participated in the audience survey (Study 2), providing one of the larger datasets examining how young adults perceive sustainability content on TikTok. Study 1 was based on interviews with eight sustainability influencers. About 84% of the Gen Z respondents said they are either interested in learning more about sustainability or are already actively doing so, indicating broad interest in environmental topics among young social media users. Sustainability interest crossed political lines. About 88% of liberal-leaning respondents, 80% of conservative-leaning respondents, and 77% of moderates expressed interest in learning more about sustainability or said they were already engaged with the topic. About 56% of respondents identified as liberal-leaning, 25% as conservative-leaning, and 19% as politically moderate. The eight influencers generally had audiences composed of 80% women, with most followers falling between 18 and 35 years old; this closely matched the Gen Z and younger Millennial demographic they hoped to reach. Some creators reported even stronger gender skews on TikTok. They estimated that 90% of their TikTok followers were women, compared with roughly 68%–70% on Instagram, suggesting platform-specific audience differences. To qualify for the interview portion of the study, the eight creators needed more than 10,000 followers and a sustained focus on sustainability topics such as waste reduction, sustainable living, conservation, or plant-based lifestyles. TikTok's reach remains enormous. The report notes that the platform now has more than 150 million monthly active U.S. users, giving sustainability communicators unprecedented opportunities to reach younger audiences. Influencer marketing has become a major economic force, generating an estimated $13.8 billion in the United States and supporting more than 50 million active content creators across social media platforms. The study cites national survey data showing that 59% of Americans under age 30 use TikTok. This helps explain why sustainability influencers view that platform as an important venue for environmental education and behavior change. The eight creators said their messaging frequently focused on small, achievable lifestyle changes—rather than perfection—to make sustainable living appear more affordable, practical, and accessible for everyday users. In this way, they sought to normalize incremental improvements that millions of people can adopt. Source: Stephens, E. (2026). Sustainability-Focused Social Media Influencers on TikTok and Influence on Gen Z Perceptions of Sustainability and Behavior. Penn Center for Science, Sustainability, and the Media, University of Pennsylvania.

Will Lessons Learned From Germany’s ‘Green Belt’ Help Protect Biodiversity in Korea’s ‘Death Strip’? By Dr. Chi-hyun Park* A section of the barbed wire barrier marking the southern border of the Korean Demilitarized Zone, a 248-kilometer-long (154 miles), 4-kilometer-wide (2.4 miles) strip cutting across the Korean Peninsula. Photo courtesy of Gyeonggi Provincial Government Two infamous demilitarized zones (DMZs)—one stemming from the 1950–53 Korean War and the other from the post-World War II Cold War—cruelly divided people, yet life found unexpected refuge within those boundary sectors. Now, both Korea’s and Europe’s DMZs have becomes ribbons of biodiversity blossoming with wildlife, greenery, and vital ecosystems. The two DMZs have different origins: Korea’s formed after the 1953 armistice that ended Korean War hostilities between North and South. Europe’s “Iron Curtain” DMZ was created after World War II when the Soviet Union refused to release its grip on the countries of Eastern Europe. Both spent years as heavily guarded “no-man’s-lands,” with guard towers, armed troops, and impassable barriers. But when people withdrew, forests returned. Wetlands revived. Endangered wildlife began to claim these spaces as habitat. Today, these DMZs have experienced different fates: Korea’s no-go zone remains a dangerous military demarcation line marked by barbed wire, landmines, and guard posts. In Europe, the Iron Curtain borderland, once known as the Cold War’s infamous “Death Strip,” began removing its concrete barriers and antipersonnel mines in 1991, as part of the dissolution of the Soviet Union. Now modernization on Europe’s Green Belt, a 7,700-mile-long ecological corridor, is in full swing. The challenge is to preserve the space along which animals can freely move to hunt, forage, and breed even as infrastructure development—highways, railways, high-voltage power lines—moves in, despite strong pro-environment regulations. The European DMZ development thus raises a question for the still-hostile Koreas: When their barriers come down, can the ecological miracles they have sheltered be preserved? Germany: From ‘Death Strip’ to European Green Belt In Germany, the Berlin Wall and the East–West German border were once iconic symbols of the Cold War. But after the fall of the Berlin Wall in 1989, German environmental groups and a groundswell of ecologists began to see the space differently—not as land for development but as an ecological legacy worth preserving. Today, the former 1,393-kilometer (865-mile) East–West German Cold War border is the backbone of a vast, serpentine ecological corridor known as the European Green Belt. The total length of that corridor is 12,500 kilometers (7,768 miles)—from the Finland–Russia border on the Barents Sea above the Arctic Circle down to Greece on the Adriatic Sea and Turkey on the Black Sea. This continuous landscape of forests, grasslands, rivers, and wetlands has become one of Europe’s most important wildlife corridors. The European Green Belt Association describes it as “the backbone of a Pan‑European ecological network” extending across 24 countries, forming an extraordinary ecological corridor and replacing the former Iron Curtain. Bears, wolves, the Balkan lynx, migratory birds, plus old forests, wetlands, and other vital, natural habitats are being reclaimed, said EuroNatur, one of the conservation organizations monitoring the European Green Belt. Political barriers disappeared, and ecological connectivity remained. Aerial view of the hiking trail along the Green Belt at the Borderland Museum Eichsfeld in central Germany. Wolkencratzer/Wikimedia CC BY-SA 3.0 Germany, however, also offers a warning. After the border opened, roads, railways, and tourism development fragmented parts of the ecological corridor. The German Association for Environment and Nature Conservation (BUND Naturschutz) has documented how, after the border opened, roads, railways, and tourism fragmented parts of the ecological corridor. It also showed how agricultural and industrial development pressed on Green Belt borders and threatened sensitive species' habitats. Peace for the ecology of the long north–south strip was not assured with the tearing down of barriers. In many ways, the harder challenge began afterward. Korean DMZ areas (beyond the border fence in the foreground) are strictly off-limits to civilian activity, allowing diverse natural ecosystems to remain preserved. Photo courtesy of DMZ Museum Korean DMZ: A Core of the Peninsula’s Biodiversity The Korean DMZ, though still off-limits to the public, is internationally recognized as a region of exceptionally high biodiversity-conservation value, despite the continued military and political tensions surrounding it. The DMZ stretches east to west for 248 kilometers (154 miles) and spans 4 kilometers (2.4 miles) in width along the Military Demarcation Line. This ribbon-like landscape begins in the rugged mountain spine of the Baekdudaegan range in the east, continues through central rivers and wetlands, and reaches the Han River estuary and tidal flats in the west. [The DMZ’s] uninterrupted mosaic of forests, grasslands, rivers, wetlands, farmland, and mudflats give it ecological functions far more powerful than isolated protected areas. Its uninterrupted mosaic of forests, grasslands, rivers, wetlands, farmland, and mudflats give it ecological functions far more powerful than isolated protected areas. In ecology, connectivity is considered essential for species movement, genetic exchange, food web stability, and adaptation to climate change. Connected ecological corridors thus offer far greater survival potential than fragmented reserves. According to surveys by the South Korean National Institute of Ecology, more than 5,900 species of wildlife have been identified in the DMZ region, and 37.8% of Korea’s endangered wildlife species inhabit the DMZ or adjacent areas. Within this narrow military boundary lies a concentrated core of the Korean Peninsula’s biodiversity. Endangered wildlife, including the yellow-throated marten—a top predator despite its charming appearance—inhabit the DMZ ecosystem. Photo courtesy of the South Korean National Institute of Ecology The ecological value of the Korean DMZ does not lie merely in the presence of rare animals. More importantly, it is a space of coexistence, where living organisms sustain intricate relationships with one another. In the Cheorwon Plain, endangered red-crowned cranes and white-naped cranes move between wetlands and farmlands in search of food. In rivers, otters function as apex predators, maintaining food web balance. In the eastern mountains, rare mammals, such as long-tailed gorals and musk deer, help shape vegetation structure, which in turn alters habitat conditions for insects, birds, and smaller mammals. In the western Han River estuary, tidal flats serve as breeding and resting grounds for black-faced spoonbills and countless migratory birds. The DMZ is more than wildlife habitat. It is a living system of life, in which species sustain one another through a web of ecological interdependence. The Korean DMZ is more than wildlife habitat. It is a living system, in which species sustain one another through a web of ecological interdependence. The endangered long-tailed goral, a protected wildlife species discovered in the DMZ. Photo courtesy of the South Korean Ministry of Environment An Asiatic black bear, photographed by an unmanned sensor camera in the DMZ. Photo courtesy of the South Korean Ministry of Environment An Ecological Laboratory Born of Military Tension The Korean DMZ is often imagined as a pristine primeval forest untouched by humans. In reality, it is not. Limited wildfires, disturbances around guard posts, maintenance of military facilities, and certain forms of human management have continued over the decades. Yet despite these disruptions, the DMZ has maintained extraordinary biodiversity precisely because limited disturbance has created an array of habitats. Ecologist Joseph Connell’s Intermediate Disturbance Hypothesis helps explain this phenomenon. If disturbance is excessively severe or absent altogether, biodiversity declines. But moderate levels of disturbance create a patchwork of grasslands, shrublands, forests, and wetlands that allow more species to coexist. The DMZ was never intentionally designed as such but, in effect, the Cold War created a vast ecological laboratory. War destroyed forests, but military tension prevented large-scale development. Here lies a paradox rare in both ecology and politics: Human hostility became a shield for nature. Invisible Death: Landmines and Wildlife North Korean soldiers laying landmines in the Demilitarized Zone. The inset photograph shows a mine exploding during emplacement operations. Photo courtesy of Republic of Korea Joint Chiefs of Staff The DMZ’s ecological miracles in Europe and Korea are also home to one of war’s most brutal legacies: landmines. Hundreds of thousands of mines are still believed to remain in the Korean DMZ and DMZ-border areas. Hidden underground and largely invisible, they pose deadly threats not only to humans but also to wildlife. Cases of wild boar, water deer, gorals, and other large mammals being killed or severely injured after triggering mines have been repeatedly reported. The damage caused by landmine explosions extends beyond individual casualties. Mines disrupt soil structure, destroy vegetation, and leave behind contamination from heavy metals and chemical residues. The danger is particularly acute for large mammals that follow established movement corridors. Yet the damage caused by landmine explosions extends beyond individual casualties. Mines disrupt soil structure, destroy vegetation, and leave behind contamination from heavy metals and chemical residues. For wildlife, landmines are invisible instruments of death. To protect wildlife, international demining experts have proposed a new approach that might be called “ecological demining.” Rather than indiscriminately excavating land in search of buried explosives, this approach combines high-resolution terrain analysis, drone-based thermal sensing, wildlife movement data, and low-disturbance equipment so that mine removal can be carried out while minimizing ecological damage. Some international specialists have also proposed identifying major wildlife migration routes first and securing ecological safe corridors as a priority. In Korea’s DMZ, however, such systematic wildlife-oriented protection measures have yet to be meaningfully established. Is the Korean DMZ the Quietest Prelude to Reunification? In Korea, political rhetoric still uses the language of confrontation. Military exercises continue on both sides of the zone. The barbed wire does not rust away, and the surveillance lights continue to illuminate the border night after night. Yet within those boundaries, a completely different order has long been at work. Cranes cross the border. Otters move along waterways. Plants scatter seeds on the wind. Rivers do not learn military demarcation lines, and migratory birds do not ask for nationality. Life does not recognize the divisions humans create. A portion of the Korean DMZ in winter. Photo courtesy of Gyeonggi Provincial Government The DMZ is not merely a military boundary. Nor does it belong exclusively to either South Korea or North Korea. It is a shared ecological asset born of division. Political scientists and experts in environmental diplomacy have long proposed transforming the DMZ into a Peace Ecology Zone for the Korean Peninsula. Ideas such as joint ecological surveys, designation as an international biosphere reserve, cooperative wetland management, and cross-border migratory bird protection have been proposed as trust-building mechanisms capable of easing military tensions. Human societies have yet to reach agreement, but nature has maintained an order of coexistence for decades. Germany transformed the wounds of division into a Green Belt. At the same time, it showed how quickly development after opening can destroy ecological corridors. After 1991, Germany transformed the wounds of division into a Green Belt. At the same time, it showed how quickly development can complicate ecological corridors. Korea, too, may one day face the same dilemma: When the barbed wire comes down, will the land be filled with roads and industrial development? Or will it be allowed to remain a corridor of life for future generations? The DMZ raises a question for both Koreas that is as practical as it is profound: After decades of separation, is it possible to find a way to live together again? Nature does not offer a political solution, but it does provide a powerful example. For decades, the forests and wildlife of the DMZ have shown that life can return, connections can be restored, and coexistence can emerge even in a landscape shaped by conflict. *Chi-Hyun Park is a longtime Korea-based environmental journalist who holds a PhD in engineering.

How America’s Original Woodland Ecosystems Can Be Restored, Plot by Plot By Leniva Leon* A forest needs to be shrewdly managed to restore it to its original character. Pixabay Conventional wisdom says the best way to protect a forest is to leave it alone. Forester Ethan Tapper says such advice can doom many of America’s woodlands. Sometimes, he argues, the most loving thing a person can do for a forest is to pick up a chainsaw. That unsettling idea lies at the heart of Tapper’s forest philosophy. Drawing on his experience restoring a badly degraded Vermont woodland, he challenges the assumption that human intervention is inherently harmful. His argument reflects a growing body of research by forest ecologists and Indigenous scholars suggesting that many forests—especially those already transformed by centuries of logging, farming, invasive species, and climate change—require thoughtful stewardship rather than passive protection if they are to become healthier, more resilient, and closer in character to the virgin forests of three and four centuries ago. In 2017, Tapper paid $150,000 for 175 acres of forest in Bolton, Vermont. He named his plot Bear Island, though by his own description, his “island” of trees in the middle of a larger forest was a wreck. It had every problem you could imagine for a patch of woods. It had been high-graded—meaning the best timber was stripped away long ago, leaving only low-value trees of poor form to fill the space. Invasive plants had moved into the gaps, and the soil in logging roads, hastily built decades ago, was actively washing away. From the road, it looked like a forest, but it was really just a forest in name only. “When I first walked this land in 2017,” he told The Earth & I in an email exchange, “I saw this forest as a symbol of everything that was wrong with the world—a forest with every problem that a forest could have.” The overlogging was evidence of the planet’s rampant human greed, and the lack of compassionate management signaled human callousness toward the natural world. But now, he says, “I see it as a symbol of what is possible—a symbol of hope.” Tapper is a professional forester, so he knew what he was looking at. He bought it anyway, and spent the following years doing something that still makes many conservationists uncomfortable: cutting some trees in order to save others. Creating gaps in a forest’s canopy can be good for allowing native trees to grow. Dominik Gryzbon/Pexels His book How to Love a Forest: The Bittersweet Work of Tending a Changing World, published in September 2024 and winner of the 2025 New England Book Award for nonfiction, is built around a provocation he states plainly from the start: “Only those who love trees should cut them.” Tapper did not take a straight path into forestry. After just two semesters at the University of Vermont, he stepped away from college to join a six-month wilderness expedition that changed the course of his life. For the next year, he knew that he wanted to continue spending as much time outdoors as possible. He went on to work as a wilderness guide, lived for a year in an uninsulated yurt with a floor made of fir boughs, and apprenticed with a logger who worked with draft horses. When he eventually returned to the university, “I chose ‘forestry’ out of a list of majors, not because I knew what it was, but because it had the word ‘forest’ in it.” His studies soon changed his understanding of forestry. He learned that the profession involved much more than cutting trees. In the current era, he said, “forestry is sometimes practiced with that old-school mentality, [but] I see modern forestry, especially in the eastern US, as much more ecologically focused.” “Today,” he said, “I identify as an ecologist as much as a forester.” The Problem with ‘Leave It Alone’ The forests of the northeastern United States carry a complicated history. Between the 17th and 20th centuries, European settlers cleared more than 99% of the forests in New England and New York—not just once but two or even three times, first for agriculture and timber, and then for industry. Most farms were eventually abandoned, and whatever could survive the transition grew back. Then came high-grade logging—a practice described as “cut the best and leave the rest”—which, as Penn State Extension explains, leaves woodlands containing mostly low-value, undesirable species and trees of poor form, with very little future potential. High-grade logging—a practice described as “cut the best and leave the rest”— … leaves woodlands containing mostly low-value, undesirable species and trees of poor form. What many hikers call “the woods” are actually just ecosystems struggling to recover, and they aren’t always heading in a good direction. Japanese barberry and glossy buckthorn are among the most problematic invasive shrubs in the Northeast: Their seeds are spread by birds; they leaf out early and block sunlight to native plants; and many states—including Vermont, New Hampshire, and Maine—have banned their sale. But they are not going away on their own. Tapper’s argument is not that humans should manage every forest. His point is that in forests where human decisions have already altered the path, opting out of further decisions does not return the forest to anything it was before. It just cedes the next chapter to whichever species can take advantage of current conditions. What Active Management Actually Looks Like The practical work Tapper describes is simpler than the argument. Selective thinning—removing crowded, low-quality, or invasive trees to give better individuals more light and space—is the main tool. The goal is to accelerate what the forest would eventually do on its own, given centuries and stable conditions. The hillside above Tapper’s house offers a clear example of Bear Island’s transformation. To improve his degraded forest, he rented an excavator to stabilize the eroding logging roads and build new, more resilient trails. Then, using a chainsaw and skidder (a heavy-duty log puller), he began managing the forest through a technique known as “crop tree release.” The method involves identifying healthy trees and cutting back the less healthy or invasive ones competing with them. On the hillside, he said, “I found a red oak, then another, then another. I found a sugar maple, then a yellow birch, then a basswood, then another oak, and released all of them from competition. Today, I walk through that same stand that I once thought was hopeless and I see a forest of healthy trees, filled with promise.” Tapper also looks to birds for evidence of the forest’s recovery. Birds are bio-indicators, he explains, meaning that the species present in an area can reveal a great deal about the habitat and environmental conditions. Since he began managing Bear Island, he has witnessed a remarkable and profound increase in bird biodiversity. The target is structural complexity: varied tree ages, canopy gaps, debris on the forest floor—the features that make old-growth forests resilient and ecologically rich. A degraded forest can be moved in that direction, but it takes knowledge, time, and cuts that initially look like damage. “Mother trees” are exceptionally large, and their roots act as the heart of a colossal network of fungal filaments spreading out to many other parts of a forest, nurturing them. Hans/Unsplash Most landowners don’t have that knowledge. Most state forestry programs don’t have the funding to provide it. And the results, if they come, may take decades to show. Roots and Obligations Dr. Suzanne Simard, a professor of forest ecology at the University of British Columbia (UBC), has shown through many years of research that forests are not simply collections of competing trees. Using DNA forensics, Simard identified “mother trees”—enormous trees that act as central hubs for vast underground fungal-filament networks, supporting seedlings by infecting them with fungi and sending them the nutrients they need to grow. These findings are detailed in her 2021 memoir Finding the Mother Tree. Industrial logging removes those trees first. But selective management identifies and protects them—and that difference, Simard’s work suggests, is what can keep a forest healthy. “Indigenous territorial jurisdictions around the world have the highest carbon storage and biodiversity, whereas the colonial model of industrial forestry is very low.” Helping lead the way in creating healthy woodlands are Indigenous forest management methods. “I’m pretty optimistic as we build better relationships between Western science and Indigenous ways of knowing,” Simard told the UBC website. “Indigenous territorial jurisdictions around the world have the highest carbon storage and biodiversity, whereas the colonial model of industrial forestry is very low. We need to go back and learn from our Indigenous partners and use our Western science tools.” Botanist Robin Wall Kimmerer, a State University of New York Distinguished Teaching Professor and enrolled member of the Citizen Potawatomi Nation, reaches a similar conclusion from a different starting point. In her landmark book Braiding Sweetgrass, she argues for a relationship of reciprocity with the natural world—one in which humans are not merely consumers of nature’s resources but participants with a responsibility to give back. Applied to forestry, it means the decisions of what to cut, what to protect, and what to restore are not purely technical. They are relational. A landowner operating from that framework tends the land differently than one who sees ownership as a passive right. According to the Congressional Research Service, most forests in the United States are in the eastern half of the country, and most of that forest land—83%–is in private ownership. If more of those private landowners operated from a sense of reciprocal obligation, more degraded forest would be managed. But reciprocity, as Kimmerer frames it, is not just a philosophy. It asks something specific of the person standing in the woods. The Weight of Caring The passive observer has a simple relationship with a forest: If the trees are standing and the place feels peaceful, everything seems fine. But the active steward sees the same landscape differently. A standing dead tree, for example—which untrained eyes might dismiss as scenery or ordinary decay—tells a different story to someone responsible for what happens next. It may signal disease moving through a stand, a canopy gap soon to be colonized by invasive shrubs, or a structural problem that will shape the next generation of the forest for the worse. That shift in perception is the product of knowledge combined with accountability. One person is passing through. The other cannot just walk past. Buckthorn is a common invasive bush and small tree in northeastern US forests. Its berries are inedible for humans. Oleg Marchak/iStock That responsibility is hard to sustain in a culture oriented toward quick returns. Forest stewardship works on a timeline measured in decades, sometimes generations. The person making cuts today may never see the canopy those cuts were designed to create. Tapper is direct about this in How to Love a Forest: The work is “counterintuitive, uncomfortable, even heartbreaking.” It also tends to be underfunded and largely invisible to the people who benefit from it most. [Proper forest management can be] “counterintuitive, uncomfortable, even heartbreaking.” Which points to a gap that rarely gets addressed. The hiker, the town drawing clean water from a managed watershed, the region that depends on connected wildlife corridors and wildfire prevention—all of them benefit from decisions made by people they will never meet, on land they will never own. That relationship has no name and no structure. And when stewardship asks everything of the person doing it while returning almost nothing, the number of people willing to take it on will keep shrinking. Wildfire Prevention Tapper points out that his approach to managing forests could help even with wildfire prevention. Thinning overcrowded forests, diversifying tree species and tree ages, and reintroducing what he calls “good fire” can all help. “Good” fire is characterized by controlled, prescribed burns that mimic natural fire cycles. In ecosystems that evolved with fire, these small, deliberate blazes clear out hazardous fuelwood and revive local ecology. “Another important nuance,” Tapper says, “is letting [naturally caused] fires burn whenever possible. And another important nuance to that is reforming the way we regulate development—concentrating development, rather than letting it sprawl across the landscape, fragmenting habitats and creating structures and people everywhere that need to be defended, thus inhibiting our ability to let [natural] fires burn.” The Limits of the Argument None of this means that active management is always right. Poorly executed thinning can damage soil, open forests to new invasives, and prioritize short-term appearance over long-term resilience. The chainsaw is not self-correcting. Forest management decisions driven primarily by carbon credit markets rather than local ecological goals can replicate the extractive logic they claim to replace, just with better branding. Forest management decisions driven primarily by carbon credit markets rather than local ecological goals can replicate the extractive logic they claim to replace, just with better branding. Tapper is aware of these limits. He writes in How to Love a Forest that the world “is degraded both by people who do too much and by those who do nothing.” His case is not for management as a universal answer. It is for management as a serious option—one that requires exactly the kind of person he describes: someone who loves the forest enough to do hard things on its behalf. The shift Tapper is describing is less technical than it is psychological. It asks landowners to accept that their presence on the land is not automatically a problem and their absence is not automatically a solution. It asks for a different kind of engagement: slower, more observant, willing to make decisions whose results will arrive long after the person who made them is gone. Tapper donated a conservation easement on Bear Island in 2022—protecting the forest forever. He is not managing it for profit or for his own timeline. He is managing it for what comes after. That may be the most honest definition of stewardship available—and also the hardest one to scale. *Leniva Leon is a freelance author living in Prince George’s County, Maryland.

Rajasthan communities flourish with education, revival of traditional water management tactics By Yasmin Prabhudas* Rajasthan, the largest state in India, is home to 69 million people. It also overlaps with 77,000 square miles of the Thar Desert, which means it is hot, semi-arid, and very prone to drought. Water scarcity can have a devastating effect on people’s lives, but thanks to the long-standing work of Dr. Rajendra Singh—through Tarun Bharat Sangh (TBS), the NGO he helped create—communities are learning to cope. From Humble Beginnings to “Waterman of India” Rajendra Singh, the “Waterman of India,” at the National Water Convention 2021 in Gwalior, India. ©Rajendra Singh/TBS Singh was born a farmer’s son in Daula, a village in Uttar Pradesh. A trained doctor in Ayurvedic medicine, he worked in government in the 1980s, overseeing adult education. However, Singh longed to offer his knowledge further afield. “In 1984, I decided to follow my hunches and quit my job. I then boarded a bus in Jaipur and traveled to Kishori, a small village in the Alwar District of Rajasthan. It was there that the true adventure of my life began,” he said in a biographical statement for the People’s World Commission on Drought and Flood, which he heads. He began to offer Ayurvedic medicine to the local people and to educate their children, but he soon discovered it was water that they needed. Pooja Bhati, one of Singh’s colleagues at TBS, says: “What is scarcity in itself? It starts with kids not going to school, especially girls because they have to fetch water. If there’s no water, there’s no irrigation. If they don't have water for irrigation and animal grazing, people migrate to cities for jobs. But they don’t have the skills to survive in the cities, so another struggle starts.” “What is scarcity in itself? It starts with kids not going to school, especially girls because they have to fetch water. If there’s no water, there’s no irrigation.” Singh and others came together to form TBS to help victims of a campus fire at the University of Jaipur. He became TBS chairman in 1985 and began to expand its mission. Singh would soon become known as the “Waterman of India.” Gram Swaraj Inspired by Mahatma Gandhi’s principle of gram swaraj (village self-development), Singh set out to harness the efforts of rural communities to create sustainable sources of water. He began reintroducing traditional rain-harvesting methods, such as johads (pond-like water structures), which had been abandoned due to a government scheme to introduce taps in every household. (Singh has said it’s not a tap that people need in every house. It's the water in the tap that is required. What if you turn on the tap and there’s no water?) River rejuvenation has also been a prominent part of TBS’s work. A johad in Thathawata, Rajasthan, India. ©Photo by LRBurdak/Wikimedia (CC BY-SA 3.0) TBS contributes about 70% toward a project, while the community funds the rest. Locals also volunteer to work on the construction. Volunteering gives villagers a sense of ownership, so they continue to look after the structure. “Women’s participation in decision-making is also vital,” adds Bhati. “Dr. Singh always asks women what they want. As a result, there are a lot of changes in their lives—the biggest one was the removal of parda pratha [a custom in which women must segregate and cover themselves in a veil].” [Watch the video Neer Nari Nadi (Water, Women, River)] Impact and Accolades Since its founding, TBS has helped about one million people, including 400,000 women, mainly across Rajasthan, but also in Maharashtra and Karnataka states. It has assisted communities in building 13,800 johads, which has meant 25 billion liters (5.4 billion gallons) of water have been conserved every year, benefiting 1,500 villages. Women typically transport the water and also work in the fields. ©Rajendra Singh/TBS The work has also transformed the local ecology—thirteen rivers have been rejuvenated, forestation has increased by 30%, and 70% of previously barren land can now be cultivated. Water security has also been established for one million families and agricultural productivity has increased by 100%, with income levels doubled. And 75% of girls now attend primary school, compared with 5% previously. Water security has been established for one million families and agricultural productivity has increased by 100%, with income levels doubled. And 75% of girls now attend primary school, compared with 5% previously. Singh has received numerous accolades for his work, including being on The Guardian’s list of “50 people who could save the planet,” being awarded the Ramon Magsaysay Award for community leadership in 2001, and winning the Stockholm Water Prize in 2015. He also received a lifetime achievement award in 2022 from the Central University of Rajasthan. Recent Projects But how does TBS go about setting up a project? Puneet Bhalla, another TBS representative, explains: “We do a needs assessment of the rural villages where there is water scarcity. Then our field workers start communicating with the gram panchayat (village council) and with local communities. After getting permission from the gram panchayat and the community, we start construction.” “We also have to find out which area is most affected by floods when there is rainfall,” Bhalla adds. “So we construct the rainwater structure in the form of a johad in that area.” Two areas in eastern Rajasthan have benefited. In Karauli, 393 johads have been constructed (watch a video of TBS’s work in Karauli). Water is scarce because of the rocky terrain, high levels of deforestation, low levels of groundwater, and porous soil that lacks the capacity to retain water. Unpredictable monsoon rains also lead to frequent droughts. Traditional water management practices are no longer being used, and modern water-management systems have proven inadequate, making irrigation difficult. These have impacted agricultural productivity and livestock rearing, but with TBS’s help, it is expected that the local rural communities’ fortunes will turn around, resulting in better access to water. They will also obtain the know-how to conserve and manage water. TBS restored the Baindi ki Pokhar (pond) in Karauli, India. ©Rajendra Singh/TBS In the thirty villages in Alwar, not only have 1,607 johads been built, benefiting 200,000 people and conserving 8 billion liters (1.75 billion gallons) of water, but irrigation systems have also been improved, further strengthening farmers' resilience to climate change. Anticipated outcomes include a 30% reduction in the loss of water and a 20% increase in income from agricultural produce per acre. TBS has also helped local people rejuvenate Rajasthan’s Sairni River. It now meets the community’s needs and enables wildlife to thrive. TBS helped increase biodiversity of the Sairni River through rejuvenation efforts. ©Rajendra Singh/TBS Singh’s vision includes encouraging local communities to build their knowledge of water management—some 100,000 people have become “water literate” since TBS began its work. Meanwhile, the Waterman Academy raises water conservation awareness among the next generation through online courses. Harnessing Local Knowledge Three ways of making sure any water conservation project is a success are: 1) get the community involved, 2) make sure women participate, and 3) help initiate a change in people’s behavior. In the words of the Waterman of India: “Let us use the wisdom of local communities and global indigenous knowledge systems to fight the modern global problems of climate change.” He declared: “The environment has been exploited by humans by taking excessive amounts of resources from it. […] I have devoted my entire life to bridging the gap between people’s hearts and minds and the rivers and environment in which they live.” *Yasmin Prabhudas is a freelance journalist working mainly for nonprofit organizations, labor unions, the education sector, and government agencies.

Over One Million Homes Were Lost After Catastrophic Flooding *By Natasha Spencer-Jolliffe Architect Yasmeen Lari sits in front of dwellings designed by her foundation. ©Wikimedia/BBC Urdu (CC BY 3.0) Designing safe, sustainable dwellings for those without means or access is beginning to have its day. One determined Pakistani architect is at the forefront of this response. The 'Barefoot Architect' After a storied career as a pioneering Pakistani architect, Yasmeen Lari pivoted away from designing glitzy modern architecture—with its high carbon footprint and other drawbacks—to address the plight of Pakistan’s disaster-plagued poor. Lari has turned her focus to designing environmentally friendly disaster-relief dwellings for a populace that faces periodic earthquakes and flooding. Known today as the “barefoot architect” for the “poorest of the poor,” Lari repurposed her professional career—she calls her former self a “starchitect”—and set up Barefoot Social Architecture (BASA), which, according to Dezeen magazine, works to “uplift impoverished communities without impacting the planet.” Descended from a compassionate, public-minded father who sheltered Muslim refugees at the time of Partition, Lari has long been committed to the preservation of her heritage, having set up the Heritage Foundation of Pakistan in 1980 with her historian husband. With the same determination that led young Lari to study architecture and succeed as the first woman to register as an architect in Pakistan, Lari’s foundation set about preserving historically important architectural treasures, such as those of the once-prosperous Sethi family in Peshawar, among many others. A view of the Sethi Mohalla, preserved by Lari’s Heritage Foundation. ©Wikimedia/Teseum (CC BY-SA 4.0) The foundation’s urgent work to address disaster relief housing for the poor followed later—with a particular concern for women and children whose lives in Pakistan have traditionally revolved around the home. Empowering people to create their own safe, affordable, nature-based housing and communal structures—carrying “the sweat and pride” of the community—eventually became more important to Lari than designing prestigious commercial structures. Since her career pivot, considerable attention has been paid to her work. In 2023, at the age of 82, she was awarded the Royal Gold Medal, considered one of the world’s most prestigious architectural accolades. Sustainability In Service to Women and Children Yasmeen Lari’s designs prioritize using locally sourced, renewable materials and incorporating traditional techniques and vernacular architectural styles. In an interview with BBC Urdu in 2020, she described her design motto as “low-to-no cost, zero carbon, and zero waste.” (See video) Houses built with support from Lari’s foundation (2020). ©BBC Urdu/Wikimedia Her approach is highly regarded by architects, environmentalists, and humanitarian organizations. With many women and children in Pakistan spending much of their lives near the home, designing disaster-resistant homes with natural, nontoxic materials is a necessity. Disaster mortality rates are generally higher for women and children. [See The Earth & I, April, 2021]. The women and children of Sindh Province. ©DFID/Wikimedia Feminist architect Nourhan Bassam, founder of the think-tank GamingX, spoke with The Earth & I about the importance of Lari’s work in addressing this need. “By acknowledging the distinct impact of these disasters on women, we understand that ‘disasters are a feminist issue’,” Bassam said. “Through her foundation, Lari has not only influenced architectural practice but also inspired a broader conversation on intersectionality and cross-cutting topics of sustainability, feminism, and disaster resilience in the field of architecture,” said Bassam. Strong Collaboration Required Providing adequate safe housing for a population as large as Pakistan’s is not easy. “Designing disaster-resistant, affordable housing from local and sustainable materials is a complex process that requires a holistic approach,” Maulik Patel, managing partner at UniquesCadd, an architecture firm focusing on disaster-resilient architecture, told The Earth & I. Various stakeholders need to be involved. “Addressing these challenges requires interdisciplinary collaboration, community engagement, and innovative approaches to design and construction,” Patel added. Dezeen reported that from 2012 to 2014, [Lari’s] foundation provided 40,000 new shelters that housed about 300,000 people following severe flooding in Sindh Province. Lari’s track record suggests that her foundation is uniquely qualified to help address the disaster housing challenges of Pakistan’s poorest populations. Dezeen reported that from 2012 to 2014, her foundation provided 40,000 new shelters that housed about 300,000 people following severe flooding in Sindh Province. Addressing Pakistan’s Floods Catastrophic flooding in Pakistan (2022). ©zms/iStock Lari’s foundation was severely tested when heavy rains led to catastrophic floods in Pakistan in 2022. A third of the country was submerged and 33 million people were forced from their homes or otherwise impacted. (See video here). According to UNICEF, half of those affected were children. A total of 1.4 million homes were destroyed in what the World Economic Forum (WEF) described as a “climate-fuelled catastrophe” that claimed at least 1,700 lives. In the aftermath of the devastating floods, Yasmeen Lari and the Heritage Foundation of Pakistan launched a plan to build a million flood-resistant homes throughout the country by 2024. The initiative also aims to ensure that every affected household has essential resources. While Lari’s plan addresses the urgent need to focus on disaster relief, it also emphasizes the need for disaster preparedness—such as safety shelters for communities. Video on shelter assembly. ©2024 Heritage Foundation of Pakistan The shelter project draws heavily on Lari’s expertise and experience working closely with local communities and utilizing indigenous, renewable materials—such as lime, mud, and bamboo—to create durable, yet easily replaceable structures. In a 2023 interview with RIBAJ, Lari said the know-how to complete one of her shelters was already freely available through a YouTube channel that had over 5,000 subscribers at the time. Through the channel, anyone can learn to build one of the foundation’s houses via detailed step-by-step instructions. Lari envisions positioning shelters on elevated roads that normally are not submerged during flooding. These structures can be relocated to permanent foundations for long-term use. Durable, sustainable, personalized—Heritage Foundation shelters. ©2024 Heritage Foundation of Pakistan Lari said it is possible to construct 25 shelters a day wherever the foundation has people “on the ground.” In the RIBAJ interview, Lari said it is possible to construct 25 shelters a day wherever the foundation has people “on the ground” to facilitate skill-sharing among villages. The WEF reported that about 1,000 homes had been completed in heavily stricken Sindh province as of September 2023. In addition to providing basic shelter, Lari also aims to provide water, toilets, and Lari’s “eco-alternative” Pakistan Chulah Cookstoves, which are self-built from local mud and CO2-absorbing lime plaster. Lari-designed chulahs can be self-made from local natural materials. ©2024 Heritage Foundation of Pakistan The stoves, which are fueled by agricultural waste, cut wood use by 50% to 70%, Lari told Dezeen magazine. The result was a healthier cooking environment compared with the traditional Pakistani wood-burning chulah. According to Dezeen, the health benefits of replacing open fires with Lari’s cookstoves include reduced air pollution, skin burns, and likely lowered rates of respiratory or heart diseases. The reduced need for firewood also impacts deforestation rates and time spent searching for firewood. Resting on a solid raised platform, they are also less likely to be swept away during a flood. ©Claude Renault/Wikimedia (CC BY 2.0) ©Muhammad Amjad/iStock Traditional indoor (left) and outdoor (right) wood-burning chulah cookstoves. Progress and Frustration The WEF reported that Lari’s foundation had, as of November 2023, helped 2022 flood victims build approximately 4,500 homes with the goal of doing so for “at least 350,000 households.” According to the WEF report, Lari has been frustrated by the UN’s humanitarian system “and institutions like the World Bank” for handing out aid “without building the capacity of the people,” and for constructing concrete structures in Pakistan following disasters. The WEF report included responses from a World Bank representative and the Sindh People’s Housing Foundation (SPHF), set up by the Sindh government to address the province’s flood disaster housing needs. Mariam Altaf of the World Bank of Pakistan told WEF the bank preferred permanent “brick and mortar” houses, which she said “are more resilient housing options than mud-based ones.” The SPHF told WEF they were aware of Lari’s work, but preferred “burnt brick and cement” structures over mud-based, which they said had been the majority of those washed away during prior flooding. *Natasha Spencer-Jolliffe is a freelance journalist and editor. Over the past 10 years, Natasha has reported for a host of publications, exploring the wider world and industries from environmental, scientific, business, legal, and sociological perspectives. Natasha has also been interviewed as an insight provider for research institutes and conferences. Editorial notes Sources: Interview with Nourhan Bassam, architect, feminist urbanist and founder of GamingX, a think-tank focusing on community development and empowerment. Interview with Maulik Patel, managing partner at UniquesCadd.

By Alina Bradford* ©K. Riemer/Pixabay Modern homes are typically built to keep people cozy or cool inside. But these tightly sealed, insulated dwellings can also trap noxious chemicals, allergens and more. People who live in homes with poor air quality can experience health problems ranging from frequent colds and allergies to life-threatening diseases. On the bright side, most people can easily upgrade the air at home. Here are some tips on getting started. Why People Should Care about Air Quality Poor air quality can lead to many different long and short-term health problems, say groups like the American Lung Association (ALA). These include: Allergies Trouble breathing Migraine headaches Asthma attacks Nausea Vomiting Dermatitis Neurological problems Cancer Liver and kidney damage These symptoms and problems are typically caused by volatile organic compounds (VOCs) in the air. VOCs are gases emitted from thousands of different types of natural and man-made products, many of which are found in homes. The US Environmental Protection Agency (EPA) says that indoor concentrations of many VOCs are consistently higher—up to ten times higher—than outdoors. Poor Air Quality Culprits There is a multitude of everyday things that contribute to poor air quality at home. Some of the more obvious contributors include pet dander, smoke from burning a meal in the kitchen, and cigarette smoke. However, there’s a wide range of other things that can make indoor air less than healthy. A common contributor to indoor pollution is building materials. New homes or renovations, which use pressed wood products like plywood as well as carpeting, paint, and adhesives, can release formaldehyde and other VOCs, according to the ALA. Even older materials, like some drywall and flooring, can release toxic chemicals into the air. Cross-section of particle board. ©wikipedia Air fresheners and cleaning products are supposed to make homes cleaner and more enjoyable, but they, too, can contribute to poor air quality. Studies show that these products can release toxic VOCs, such as formaldehyde, acetaldehyde, benzene, toluene, ethylbenzene, and xylenes, into the air. Cooking indoors with wood can increase health risks. ©Nuzree/Pixabay The air in kitchens with wood-burning or natural gas stoves can also be toxic. Studies over the past forty years show that natural gas stoves and other gas appliances can release methane and nitrogen oxides (NOx) into the air, even when they aren’t in use. Particles released from wood-burning stoves can cause bronchitis, pneumonia, and asthma. Indoor cooking with wood can increase health risks. ©Pixabay Measuring Air Quality An easy way to test for poor air quality at home is to use an air quality monitor. The cost of these monitors can range from around $30 to $200, depending on the features. Some of the fancier versions will send an alert via phone when air quality reaches unsafe levels. When shopping, be sure to look for a monitor that measures CO, CO2, VOC, and formaldehyde (HCHO). It’s also important to get one that can detect dust mites and other allergens. Devices that can detect these air quality menaces are labeled as PM 2.5 (for particulate matter less than 2.5 micrometers in size). How to Keep Air Clean at Home Once people understand what can cause poor air quality and how to track it, they’re ready to make their indoor air safer. Here are some things that can be done right away: Stop using air fresheners or look for products that are “non-toxic.” Use natural cleaning products. Eat more raw foods or steam or bake foods to reduce the smoke caused by frying and searing. Stainless steel (left) and bamboo food steamers. ©Kowloonese/Wikimedia (CC BY-SA 3.0) Smoke or vape outside only. Clean with a vacuum with a HEPA filter regularly to rid the home of pet dander and dust. Use HEPA air purifiers throughout the home. Change HVAC, air purifier, and vacuum air filters regularly, and ensure that the filters use HEPA filtration. Open windows on low-pollution days to let out VOCs and let in fresh air. Throw out food before it becomes moldy. Clean home air vents regularly. Modern residential building codes require kitchen ventilation, so use ventilation hoods on stoves whenever cooking. Spider plants are popular indoor plants. ©Peter-coxhead/Wikimedia Some long-term solutions to consider include removing carpeting—if air quality levels remain poor after one’s best efforts—or switching to electric appliances over gas water heaters, ovens, and heaters. There has been a lot of buzz online about the air benefits of houseplants, but don’t get too excited. While houseplants have also been shown to improve indoor air quality, the effects are small, at best. According to the EPA, it would require 680 plants in a house to keep the air clean. Don’t Forget to Take Outdoor Breaks While practicing all of these ways to improve the quality of the air indoors, people shouldn’t forget to simply get outdoors for some fresh air. For those who live in an area with low pollution, the air outside can be up to ten times cleaner than indoor air. Get out and enjoy some fresh air! ©joenomias/Pixabay Also, when at work, take a stroll outside during breaks or eat lunch outside. During the weekends take up an outdoor hobby, take a swing in a hammock, or go for a picnic with the family. Find any excuse to go outside for a more grateful and healthier respiratory system. *Alina Bradford is a safety and security expert that has contributed to CBS, MTV, USA Today, Reader’s Digest, and more. She is currently the editorial lead at SafeWise.com.