Category: environment

  • From the ground in Kenya to the gold stud in the ear

    From the ground in Kenya to the gold stud in the ear

    Artisanal gold mining in Kenya’s Western region is raising environmental and public health concerns as mercury contamination threatens both the miners and local water sources.

    At sunrise in western Kenya’s Migori County, small groups of men and women gather at makeshift gold pits, sifting through soil in search of a precious livelihood. Across Kenya’s western counties, tens of thousands of people have turned to artisanal gold mining — small-scale, informal mining operations, often characterized by manual labor and the use of basic tools and low-tech equipment — as global gold prices rise and traditional farming incomes decline. 

    But while mining offers a vital economic lifeline, it brings a toxic legacy: mercury contamination that threatens health, water and livelihoods far beyond the mines.

    A growing Industry in Western Kenya, small-scale gold mining has expanded rapidly in counties such as Migori, Kakamega and Vihiga. Recent estimates suggest that Kenya is home to more than 250,000 artisanal miners, with more than one million people depending on gold-mining for their livelihoods. In Migori alone, gold mining injects an estimated US$37 million into the local economy each year.

    Despite the dangers, mining remains the most viable source of income for many. Surveys in Migori found that a significant majority of miners would not leave the industry, citing a lack of alternatives. 

    Extracting gold

    Women make up an estimated 38% of Kenya’s small-scale gold mining workforce, often involved in ore processing — where mercury exposure is highest — yet receive just 11% of the sector’s revenue. 

    Nashon Adero, a lecturer at Taita Taveta University and a Kenyan mining policy expert, said that women’s roles and vulnerabilities are often overlooked in policy discussions. 

    Herman Gibb, a lecturer at George Washington University and managing partner and president of Gibb & O’Leary Epidemiology Consulting said that mercury is widely used by artisanal miners because it is cheap, accessible and effective at extracting gold from ore. 

    “It’s the easiest way for miners with limited resources to extract gold,” said Gibb, who used to work for the U.S. Environmental Protection Agency. 

    The process, known as amalgamation, involves mixing crushed ore with liquid mercury. Mercury binds to gold, creating an amalgam, which is then heated to vaporize and remove the mercury, leaving behind pure gold. But Gibb said that this heating releases toxic mercury vapour, endangering miners and nearby communities. 

    Mercury poisons

    Researchers, including Gibb, have warned that mercury vapour can settle in households, exposing families, particularly children and pregnant women. Biomonitoring studies, including hair sampling, have shown high levels of exposure among women in small-scale gold mining regions. 

    However, research shows that testing capacity in rural Kenya is limited, and the logistics of sampling, storage and analysis pose additional barriers to effective surveillance. Mercury poses a variety of risks, depending on the form of exposure and who is exposed. 

    Elemental mercury, the liquid form used in gold extraction, poses serious risks when inhaled as vapour, which can cause neurological symptoms such as tremors, memory loss and cognitive impairment. Prolonged exposure can also cause kidney damage. 

    “Mercury vapour can damage the brain, especially in children whose nervous systems are still developing,” Gibb said.  

    Methylmercury, on the other hand, is an organic form of mercury created when elemental mercury enters water bodies and undergoes microbial transformation. It accumulates in fish and other aquatic organisms, entering the food chain. Methylmercury is particularly harmful to pregnant women and children, as exposure can lead to severe developmental disorders, intellectual disabilities and long-term neurological damage.

    Chemicals in the food stream

    Gibb said that when methylmercury enters the food chain, the risks become even more serious. “This is a toxin that affects the most vulnerable in invisible but lasting ways,” he said.

    Although Kenya’s Mining Act of 2016 bans mercury use in mining, enforcement remains weak, and mercury is still widely available in local markets. News reports from the Kenya Chamber of Mines, the main mining industry organization in Kenya, state that many miners lack awareness of its dangers or access to protective equipment. 

    A 2023 study found that groundwater within six kilometers of mine sites in Migori contained mercury levels exceeding Kenya’s safe drinking water limit of 0.001 mg/L during the dry season. Soil samples from mine tailings (waste materials left over after valuable minerals have been extracted) showed mercury concentrations above 9.6 mg/kg, surpassing the National Environment Management Authority discharge limits. 

    Kenya’s mercury crisis is part of a wider global problem. Gibb said that the World Health Organization estimates prenatal exposure to methylmercury causes more than 227,000 new cases of intellectual disability each year, contributing to nearly two million “disability-adjusted life years” — a measure of years lost to ill-health or disability. 

    Mercury ranks among the top chemical threats to global health. Gibb said that its burden is compounded by the fact that most harm is invisible and long-term, making it difficult to prioritize in health budgets. 

    Science diplomacy

    In 2017, Kenya ratified the Minamata Convention, an international treaty designed to protect human health and the environment from releases of mercury, committing to reduce mercury use and emissions. Yet implementation lags. A 2022 Auditor General’s report found that the Ministry of Petroleum and Mining had not mapped or formally designated artisanal mining zones in key counties.

    Adero, the Kenyan mining expert emphasized the need for “science diplomacy” — the use of geospatial technologies (mapping tools and location data) and data-driven reports to influence local and national policymakers. Recent GIS-based research (Geographic Information System, or mapping software that shows roads, rivers, houses etc.) show mercury levels remain high in soil and water near mines. 

    “This highlights enforcement gaps and spatial risks [risks due to location] that many policymakers overlook,” he said. 

    Monitoring mercury exposure in rural areas is especially challenging due to limited laboratory facilities, transportation and technical capacity. 

    “We cannot manage what we do not measure,” Adero said. “Without proper exposure tracking, policies are just words on paper. We need data that is local, current and trusted by both governments and communities.” 

    Enforcing regulations

    Gibb said that constraints around sample collection, storage and analysis hinder the ability to track exposure and enforce regulations. 

    The Migori county government has signed an agreement with the State Department for Environment and Climate Change to establish demonstration sites for mercury-free processing. But while these techniques can be effective, Gibb said, they require up-front investment, training and new equipment and that some alternatives such as cyanide also pose environmental risks. 

    Adero said that early adoption in countries such as Tanzania and Ghana shows promise but similar scale-up in Kenya remains limited. 

    Gender and social dimensions organizations such as the Association of Women in Energy and Extractives in Kenya address gender disparities by organizing cooperatives, providing training and advocating for gender-sensitive safety policies. 

    In his research, Adero found that significant gender gaps remain, with women overrepresented in the most dangerous roles but undercompensated. This research underscores that these disparities are rooted in systemic deprivation and limited access to education and financial literacy, he said. 

    Bureaucracy and fees

    While formalizing small-scale gold mining through Kenya’s Mining Act of 2016 could improve safety and access to technical assistance, progress is slow, hindered by bureaucracy and high fees. Adero advocates simplifying the permitting processes, reducing costs and exempting small-scale miners from fees — learning from successful models such as Ghana’s community mining schemes.

    Yet until real changes happen on the ground, artisanal miners remain caught between economic necessity and the invisible dangers of mercury poisoning. 

    “It’s what we know, and it works — you can see the gold right away,” said a miner from Migori. 

    But Dr. Adero warns that real progress requires concrete actions, not just policy declarations. Reliable, on-the-ground data to measure mercury exposure and inform decisions is key.

    As Kenyan miners struggle with mercury poisoning, consumers around the world unknowingly wear and invest in gold that carries hidden human and environmental costs. Ultimately, addressing mercury contamination is not just a local challenge, it’s a call to action for global accountability, connecting distant luxury markets directly to the miners who risk their health and lives for precious metals.


     

    Questions to consider:

    1. Why do some people in Kenya risk their health to mine for gold?

    2. What are some things the Kenyan government is doing to improve the lives of gold miners?

    3. Why do you think gold is considered so valuable?


     

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  • Can the sea’s rise be a language’s demise?

    Can the sea’s rise be a language’s demise?

    A language is not merely a collection of words; it is a symphony of memories, a melody that holds the heartbeat of a nation. It is a living chronicle of history, breathed across the ages, inscribed on the rhythms of life and sung by the winds that dance upon the sacred lands.

    Picture a serene village cradled among ancient mountains, where elders speak a tongue as timeless as the rocks beneath their feet. Each syllable is a thread, knitted into a rich tapestry of legends, lore and traditions that bind them to the soil they call home.  

    But what becomes of this language when the land itself starts to crumble? When the waves rise to consume coasts, or parched earth splits under a blistering sun, does the song fall silent? Today, as the planet warms, it is not only ice caps and forests that vanish — but languages, and with them, entire ways of perceiving the world.

    Around the globe, ancient languages — the essence of human history — are vanishing. Climate change, a tenacious force reshaping landscapes, frays the delicate cultural threads that root communities to their identity. Rising seas engulf islands where indigenous tongues blossom like rare flowers. Wildfires sweep away more than homes, reducing sacred spaces and oral histories to ash. Each vanished habitat is a stilled voice, an erased library of metaphors, idioms and songs that offered a unique lens on life.

    Language extinction

    According to a 2021 report by the UN Permanent Forum on Indigenous Issues, more than 40% of the world’s estimated 7,000 languages are at risk of disappearing. “When a language dies,” said linguist K. David Harrison, “a unique vision of the world is lost.”

    While globalisation and modernisation are often blamed for the erosion of ancient languages, environmental destruction plays an even more insidious role, quietly displacing communities and severing their linguistic roots. When climatic disasters scatter people, they do not only lose their home — they lose the vessel of their shared soul. Dispersed and assimilating, their words, their tales, their melodies — once carried across centuries — fade into echoes long forgotten.

    Today, nearly half of all languages spoken globally are endangered. According to UNESCO, one language disappears every two weeks — a rhythm of loss as steady as the ticking of a clock. In this tide of vanishing voices, climate change surges as an unrecognised adversary, disrupting the habitats where these languages are rooted.

    Consider the small island nations of the Pacific — Tuvalu, Kiribati, the Marshall Islands — where languages are inseparable from the ocean’s ebb and flow. As seas rise up to threaten these vulnerable islands, the inhabitants must depart, and with them, their distinct vision of the world drifts away. Words that once named the tides, the winds, the colour of the sky before monsoon, these vanish as the speakers are displaced.

    Likewise, in the Arctic, the Sámi and Inuit communities confront an ugly truth: their languages, like their frozen lands, are melting under the pressure of a warming world. The vocabulary used to describe different types of snow, hunting rituals or the behaviour of migrating herds holds ancestral wisdom. As the landscape changes, the words that once matched its rhythms no longer apply — and are slowly lost.

    Worldviews and wisdom

    When languages are lost, they take with them entire worldviews and centuries of wisdom encoded in words. The knowledge of forests, of skies, of seas — how to farm to the beat of nature, how to heal using the plants that grow in secret groves — is lost.

    For instance, in the Amazon rainforest, indigenous languages such as Kayapo contain the secrets of life-abundant ecosystems. According to Survival International and linguistic researchers, these languages encode unique ecological wisdom that cannot be translated. Each word is a secret to decoding the harmony of nature and each lost language shelves an irreplaceable piece of the puzzle.

    In the Philippines, the Agta people hold oral traditions that teach sustainable fishing and forest stewardship. Their language contains knowledge passed down through chants and stories that teach children when to harvest, what to leave behind and how to give back. Without their land, without their rituals, such teachings dissolve.

    In Vanuatu, where the rising tide of the ocean promises to wash away land and language, communities are in a mad dash to record their heritage. Elders and linguists collaborate, transcribing words into digital platforms, preserving the poetry of their world for future generations. Stories once passed from mouth to ear around firelight are now finding their way into apps, audio archives and cloud storage — fragile vessels carrying ancient truths.

    A fading past and uncertain future

    Technology, too, becomes a bridge between the fading past and an uncertain future. Apps like Duolingo and platforms like Google’s Endangered Languages Project breathe new life into ancient words, making them accessible to the young and curious.

    Augmented reality and virtual storytelling spaces are beginning to preserve not just the language, but the experience of being immersed in it. But technology alone cannot carry the weight of this preservation. It must be paired with policies that protect the vulnerable — giving displaced communities a voice not only in language preservation but in shaping climate action itself.

    Governments must go beyond digitisation and invest in cultural resilience. Language must be taught in schools, inscribed in constitutions, spoken on airwaves and celebrated in ceremonies. We need climate policies that understand that saving ecosystems and saving languages are part of the same struggle. Both are about preserving what makes us human.

    In the end, saving a language is an act of defiance against the erasure of identity. It is a way to honour the past while forging a path to a sustainable future. These languages do not merely recount history — they carry the wisdom of living in harmony with the Earth. In their poetry and proverbs, in their songs and silences, they have answers to questions we have not even thought to ask yet.

    To preserve these voices, we must become their echoes. We must act before it’s too late. Before the last storytellers fall silent. Before the rivers can no longer remember the songs they once inspired. To save a language is to save a piece of ourselves — the spirit of who we are, where we’ve been and the dreams of where we might go.

    When we lose a language, we don’t just lose words — we lose the Earth’s voice itself. If these voices vanish, who will remember the names of the stars? Who will tell us how the mountains mourned or the forests sang? The Earth is listening and its languages are calling. 

    Let us not forget how to answer.


     

    Questions to consider:

    1. Why are languages at risk of extinction due to climate change?

    2. How are preservation of language connected to whole cultures?

    3. Why might someone want to master a language that is not widely spoken?


     

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  • A pipeline of prosperity or plunder

    A pipeline of prosperity or plunder

    In the sticky heat of an April afternoon in Kampala, Uganda nine university students stood outside the headquarters of Stanbic Bank, their voices raised in protest. It is a sound that has echoed for more than half a decade.

    Their signs called for an end to the East African Crude Oil Pipeline (EACOP), a $5 billion project: 1,443 kilometers of 24-inch wide, heated and buried steel ambition, snaking from Uganda’s oil-rich Lake Albert basin to the Tanzanian port of Tanga on the Indian Ocean. Before the hour was out, they were in police custody.

    The government has hailed the project as a pillar of economic transformation. But critics — students, activists, and environmental groups — argue it will displace communities, threaten biodiversity and entrench a model of development that sidelines democratic participation. Dissent has been met with arrests, surveillance and a steadily shrinking civic space. The protests, though often silenced, persist, challenging a narrative that equates oil with progress.

    Five days after the arrests, in the same city, a different kind of statement was made. At the Eleventh Africa Regional Forum on Sustainable Development, held from April 7th to 11th, delegates issued a call that seemed — if only for a moment — to resonate with those voices on the street.

    The route of the East Africa Crude Oil Pipeline. Wikimedia Commons

    Members of the UN Economic Commission for Africa urged a shift away from exporting raw materials and toward value addition through manufacturing and industrialisation. Mining, they said, and the export of cash crops like cocoa, tea and coffee must no longer be the end of the story, but the beginning of something built to last.

    Shouting into the void

    For the students arrested, whose protests have long been dismissed as anti-developmental by a government intent on progress-by-pipeline, this sudden harmony of rhetoric might feel like vindication — if only the delegates meant what they propose.

    The students may have been shouting into a void, but the echoes resonate with a wider pattern etched deep into the continent’s political and economic architecture. Back in 2016, journalist Tom Burgis, author of “The Looting Machine”, put it in a 2016 interview with CNN: “There is a pretty straight line from colonial exploitation to modern exploitation.”

    Burgis has long documented the mechanisms of resource extraction in Africa and pointed to the lingering dominance of oil and mining multinationals — entities that, decades after independence, still wield economic and political influence akin to that once held by colonial administrations.

    Zaki Mamdoo, a South African climate justice activist and campaigner with the Stop EACOP coalition, agrees with Burgis’s notion of modern resource imperialism — only now, the governors wear suits and operate through shareholder meetings.

    “How come TotalEnergies owns 62% shareholding power, while Uganda and Tanzania hold just 15% each?” he said.

    Partnership or plunder?

    The numbers speak for themselves. The French oil giant TotalEnergies, with Chinese partner CNOOC in tow, controls the lion’s share of the project. Uganda, the country from which the oil originates, has been cast in the role of host, not owner. Tanzania, whose land will bear the pipeline’s longest stretch, fares no better. For Mamdoo and many others, this is not a partnership; it’s a palatable version of plunder.

    “This is not African-led development,” Mamdoo said. “It’s an extractive model dressed up in nationalist rhetoric.”

    To critics, EACOP is a 21st-century replay of old patterns — resources extracted with little local benefit, profits flowing abroad and environmental costs left with the people. What’s different now is the packaging: marketed as part of an energy transition and a driver of economic empowerment. But on the ground, the reality is displacement, disrupted livelihoods and fragile ecosystems in the pipeline’s path.

    According to EACOP’s official figures, more than 13,600 people have been affected, with 99.4% of compensation agreements signed and paid. But activists argue the numbers mask deeper issues — slow and uneven compensation, uprooted communities and long-term uncertainty.

    “The real number is far higher,” said Mamdoo. “We’re talking well over 100,000 directly impacted — and many more indirectly. But of course, Total reports a few tens of thousands.”

    Differing views on sustainability

    From Uganda’s farmlands to Tanzania’s reserves, the pipeline cuts through forests, wetlands and biodiversity hotspots — what critics see as a trail of ecological and human disruption beneath a polished PR campaign.

    By underreporting those impacted, critics argue, multinationals shrink their obligations — and their compensation budgets. The payments, when they come, have been slow, sporadic and, in some cases, still absent. Yet the construction rolls forward.

    To Morris Nyombi, a Ugandan activist now living in exile for his work opposing EACOP, the narrative of compensation is as hollow as it is dangerous.

    He watches from afar as national television and international media spotlight a few smiling beneficiaries — residents celebrating a new house, a fresh coat of paint, a sense of reward.

    Nyombi sees what isn’t shown. “Let’s state facts, when minerals are found somewhere, just know that’s lost land — it becomes government property,” Nyombi said. “And to the select few given houses, what then? You’re an agriculturist. Giving you a house somewhere else doesn’t mean giving you land to till. You’re killing a way of life.”

    A pipeline of displacement

    Without farmland, families are forced to sell off whatever land remains and move to towns and cities in search of new beginnings.

    “They end up in Kampala renting, looking for what to do,” Nyombi said. “It’s displacement without a plan. Progress for someone else.”

    Farmers who were near the pipeline’s path are now scattered across the Uganda-Congo border, Nyombi said. “They were duped into compensation. When they resisted, they started receiving threats. Husbands arrested. The women and children forced to run, to hide. That’s the reality.”

    These, Nyombi said, are the people the government never talks about. They don’t show up in speeches or glossy brochures about development. But their lives tell the story better than any pipeline prospectus ever could.

    But speaking out against EACOP is dangerous. “It’s a gamble with one’s life,” Nyombi said. Being an activist, he adds, is a kind of social exile. Most organizations won’t hire you — won’t even stand next to you. In much of Africa, governments don’t hesitate to hit below the belt.

    A lake that sustains life

    Nyombi has been on the government’s radar since 2020. He has been threatened and surveilled and been the subject of smear campaigns. As a result, he stepped back from frontline organizing.

    But what if the project were perfectly managed with strict environmental safeguards, zero corruption and full compensation? Would that make EACOP justifiable?

    Mamdoo said that isn’t what is happening, citing reports of oil slicks on Lake Albert and elephants rampaging villages. The very question betrays a fundamental misunderstanding, Mamdoo said. Environmental damage isn’t a hypothetical risk, it’s already unfolding.

    “If oil spills hit Lake Victoria—the region’s largest freshwater body—over 40 million people would be poisoned,” he said.

    Lake Victoria sustains agriculture, fishing, drinking water, and transport across Uganda, Tanzania and Kenya. It’s East Africa’s largest inland water body — and the source of the Nile. Yet while project backers point to EACOP’s technical safeguards, critics like Mamdoo argue that no pipeline cutting through seismically active zones, protected ecosystems and critical watersheds can ever be truly safe.

    “You can’t just contain a pipeline,” Mamdoo adds. “You can’t plug all the holes when the system is built to leak — money, justice, land, people.”

    Keeping oil where it is extracted

    Supporters of the pipeline argue that projects like EACOP could open the door for substantial donations to tourism development and wildlife protection, especially in ecologically sensitive zones where the pipeline runs near or through national parks. The idea is that the extractive industry might fund preservation as part of its footprint.

    But to Mamdoo, that premise is flawed from the start.

    “What’s that compared to the 62% they’re taking?” Mamdoo asks. “You shouldn’t settle for peanuts when you own a resource.”

    Being a funder, he adds, doesn’t make you the owner. Mamdoo would like to see the oil stay in Uganda. “We’d be having an entirely different conversation if the plan was to have our own refineries, process it locally, then sell the products to them,” he said.

    Nyombi isn’t surprised that the government supports EACOP. Historically, leaders who stand up to corporations and the Global North haven’t lasted. “These multinationals don’t want an Africa that sees clearly,” Nyombi continues. “They want us manageable. If you open your eyes and demand real sovereignty, you become a threat to global stability.”

    Taking on global establishment isn’t easy.

    Some critics point to the case of Muammar Gaddafi, the Libyan leader who championed a gold-backed African currency and pan-African resource control before being toppled in a NATO-backed intervention. His fall, they argue, wasn’t just about domestic tyranny — it was about challenging the global status quo.

    Yet among younger Ugandans, particularly students, the legacy of figures like Gaddafi is often blurred or reduced to villainy — taught more as a cautionary tale than a case study in resistance. The narratives they inherit are tightly curated. But still, a shift is happening.

    Especially among those studying environmental science, Nyombi sees a growing restlessness.

    “These students, they want to act,” Nyombi said. “They’re interested in ground action. But more than that — they’re asking deeper questions. They wonder, why keep planting trees that won’t grow?”

    There’s a frustration with symbolic gestures — school-organized clean-ups, ceremonial tree-plantings — that often sidestep the policies creating the very destruction they’re meant to remedy.

    “They’re starting to say, no, the problem isn’t the seedling. It’s the system. So why not challenge policy instead?” Nyombi said. “But to challenge policy, you have to get out there.”

    That’s how the students who were arrested on 2 April while approaching Uganda’s Stanbic Bank came to act.

    Taking protests to the front line

    Mamdoo said that the protest was not just symbolic — it was strategic. Stanbic is one of the banks linked to funding the East African Crude Oil Pipeline. For the students, it was the front line.

    “They’re trying to secure their future,” Mamdoo said.

    But the bank saw it differently. Kenneth Agutamba, Stanbic Uganda’s country manager for corporate communications, defended the institution’s involvement.

    “Our participation aligns with our commitment to a just transition that balances economic development with environmental sustainability,” Agutamba said. “The project has met all necessary compliance requirements under the Equator Principles and our Climate Policy.”

    For the students, though, no statement or principle outweighs what they see as the theft of their future. Their protest, they insist, is not rooted in mere outrage. It’s anchored in a growing global reckoning: at least 43 banks and 29 insurance companies have declined to support EACOP, citing its environmental threats and human rights risks.

    But despite the pressure from abroad, the pipeline — and the crackdowns — continue to move forward.

    “That’s why we’re targeting the funders,” Mamdoo said. “If the money dries up, the project can’t survive.”

    Dissent and disappearance

    The students arrested will likely be released — this time. They’re lucky. Local papers spoke of them. Many others vanish into cells for months, even years, without trial — especially those without lawyers, or whose names never make it into the headlines.

    If there’s a single line that captures the price of resistance, it might be Braczkowski’s blunt warning: “Any oil activist in Uganda will be sniffed out before Total.” Oil, he adds, has become Uganda’s gold — a lifeline that may help service the country’s mounting debt.

    “That’s exactly the problem,” Mamdoo counters. “If all it does is pay off debt, what’s left for the people? There won’t be money for schools, for hospitals — just enough to keep the lights on in their offices.”

    It’s been nearly a decade since EACOP was first proposed. Only now, as shovels hit soil and risks become real, has public scrutiny begun to catch up. And that, Mamdoo and Nyombi agree, is because of activism.

    “Without it,” Nyombi said, “this would’ve gone quietly. Smoothly. Just another deal signed behind closed doors.”

    But things aren’t moving as fast as they once were.

    “Activism has slowed them down,” Nyombi adds. “It’s not moving at the pace they wanted.”

    So what’s the real equation here? A pipeline backed by billions. A government banking on oil. A continent still clawing for control of its wealth. And in the middle — students, farmers, mothers, exiles — bearing the cost of asking the most dangerous question of all:

    What if we said no?


     

    Three questions to consider:

    1. What is EACOP?

    2. Why are many people in East Africa opposed to a pipeline that promises to bring money to the region?

    3. If you were in charge of natural resources for Uganda, what policies would you put in place?


     

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  • What happens to the ski runs when the snow runs out?

    What happens to the ski runs when the snow runs out?

    I’m in high school now, and skiing is one of my favorite things to do — but I know it’s something my grandkids may never get to experience. 

    Normally the bike trails underneath the chairlift would be buried under a thick blanket of snow in the winter. But as temperatures begin to rise, more and more people are beginning to see the snow fade to brown earlier than ever before. Skiing could very well become a relic of the past — an age-old sport confined to history books and old photographs. 

    According to a study conducted by U.S. climate scientists in 2017 and funded by the U.S. Environmental Protection Agency’s Office of Atmospheric Programs, “season length changes” due to warming winters “could result in millions to tens of millions of foregone recreational visits annually by 2050, with an annual monetized impact of hundreds of millions of dollars.”

    These same scientists found that ski seasons in the United States are expected to see reductions in length, exceeding 50% in 2050 and 80% in 2090 for some locations.

    The reality is that by the end of the century most resorts in the United States will have closed. While it may seem like artificial snow is the solution to this monumental problem, that is not the case. This fake snow may be able to help resorts stay afloat for the next decade or so, but it is not a viable option in the long run.

    Can we make snow?

    According to an article published by the American Chemical Society in 2019, snow making takes energy, mostly fossil-based, which further exacerbates the issue by contributing to more carbon emissions.

    Not only are these snow makers harmful to the environment, but as temperatures begin to rise, there are less windows for snowmaking itself. 

    Dr. Elizabeth Burakowski, a climate scientist at the University of New Hampshire, said that snowmaking operations require temperatures that are below freezing to operate efficiently. This means that even though artificial snow can be useful in the short term, it won’t be a feasible solution in the future as the conditions needed for making that snow begin to disappear.

    More importantly, artificial snow is merely a band-aid on a much larger wound. The onus is instead on ourselves to remedy this problem and not the resorts trying to scramble for answers. 

    Amie Engerbretson, a professional skier and climate activist, thinks that both skiers and resorts are reluctant to talk about the problem. “I think they’re scared,” Engerbretson said. “I think they’re scared of being called a hypocrite.” This fear is understandable. Many in the ski-industry rely on fossil-fuel powered lifts and snowmobiles and travel to enjoy the sport they love. 

    Let’s speak for the snow.

    To Burakowski, speaking out means acknowledging these contradictions. “If anyone expects to be a perfect advocate, then they’re setting the bar impossibly high,” she said. 

    This is where the conversation around climate change usually stalls. Many athletes and outdoor enthusiasts hesitate to take a stand because they either don’t think their opinion matters or they don’t want to seem like hypocrites themselves. However, advocacy can reflect the complications as long as what is being advocated is progress toward a greener future.

    Most people get too caught up in the individual aspect of climate advocacy and climate change in general. However, if we try to address this problem as individuals, we won’t make much progress. 

    Instead, change will come from systemic action and involvement in the public sphere. When I asked Dr. Burakowski what the best thing someone can do to make an impact, she said: “vote”. 

    With the way things are going, just remembering to turn off your lights when you leave a room or buying an electric car will not be the difference between sustainability or catastrophe. Real progress requires a collective effort — new climate policy, corporate accountability and government action. 


    Questions to consider:

    • Why does the author think that his grandchildren won’t get the chance to experience skiing?

    • Why can’t making snow make up for a lack of snowfall? 

    • What sports do you like that might be at risk from climate change?


     

     

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  • Can we de-stress from climate change distress?

    Can we de-stress from climate change distress?

    Consider that BP, one of the world’s biggest oil companies, popularised the term “carbon footprint”, which places the blame on individuals and their daily choices. 

    Anger also comes up a lot, Robinson said, particularly for young people. 

    “They’re angry this is happening,” she said. “They’re angry they have to deal with it. They’re angry that this is their world that they’re inheriting and that all totally makes sense. It’s not fair to burden young people with this. It’s really important that they have support and action by adults in all kinds of ways throughout society.”

    Working through our feelings

    Then there’s sadness and grief. 

    “We have of course loss of life in many climate disasters,” Robinson said. “That’s really significant. And loss of habitat, loss of biodiversity, loss even of traditions and ways of life for a lot of people, often in Indigenous cultures and others as well.”

    One of the most simple and effective ways we can deal with climate distress is by talking about it, and by giving young people the opportunity and space to do so. 

    “One of the hardest things is that people often feel really isolated,” Robinson said. “And so talking about it with someone, whether that’s a therapist or whether that’s in groups … just anywhere you can find to talk about climate emotions with people who get it. Just talk about climate change and your feelings about it.”

    Having a space to discuss climate change and their feelings associated with it can help a young person feel understood. Talking about feelings in general, known as “affect labelling”, can help reduce the activity of the amygdala — the part of the brain most associated with fear and emotions — in stressful times.

    Unplug yourself.

    Unlimited access to the internet does allow young people to connect with like-minded people and engage in pro-environmental efforts, but the amount of information being consumed can also be harmful. 

    Climate change is often framed in the media as an impending environmental catastrophe, which studies say may contribute to this sense of despair and helplessness, which can lead to young people feeling apathetic and being inactive. 

    Robinson said that while you don’t need to completely cut out reading the news and using social media, it is important to assess the role of media consumption in your life. She suggested setting a short period of time every day where you connect to the media, then try your best to refrain from scrolling and looking at your phone for the rest of the day. 

    “Instead, look outside at nature, at the world we’re actually a part of instead of what we’re getting filtered through the media,” she said.

    For some people, looking at social media around climate is a way of connecting with a community that cares about climate, so it can still be a useful tool for many people. 

    “Our nervous systems can get really hijacked by anxiety,” Robinson said. “We know that when mindfulness is a trait for people, when it really becomes integrated into who they are, that it does help. It’s associated with less climate anxiety in general.”

    Take in the nature around you.

    Studies show that mindfulness can improve symptoms of anxiety and depression. Robinson says this is partly due to it allowing us to be present with whatever feelings come up, that it helps us to stay centred throughout the distress. 

    It can be as simple as taking a mindful walk in a nearby forest or green space. While of course forests are helpful in absorbing carbon and reducing emissions, they can also help us reduce stress. Some studies have shown that spending more than 20 minutes in a forestnoticing the smells, sights and sounds — can reduce the stress hormone cortisol

    Robinson said that one of the more powerful things you can do is to band together with others. 

    “Joining together with other people who care and who can have these conversations with you and then want to do something along with you is really powerful,” she said. “We’re social animals as humans, and we need other people and we really need each other now during all of this. And it’s so important to be building those relationships if we don’t have them.”

    It is possible that climate anxiety can increase when young people learn about climate change and the information is just thrown out there, Robinson said, and the opportunity to talk about emotions should be incorporated into learning. 

    “It is different than learning math, or learning a language,” she said. “It’s loaded with all kinds of threat. Kids need to know what to do with that because there is going to be an emotional response.”

    Take climate action.

    It has also been shown that action can be an “antidote” for climate anxiety and that education centred around action empowers youth, when providing ways of engaging with the crisis collectively. 

    Teachers can then help students connect their feelings with actions, whether that be in encouraging their participation in green school projects or on a broader level in their communities. 

    “That action, it helps, it really gives people a sense of agency and they know that they are making a difference,” Robinson said.

    We need to come together, she said, not just to help us feel better, but to find solutions. “I really think that our connection, our systemic issues that we have, are so profound and they really push us away from each other in so many ways.”

    Our societies often favour consumption over connection, she said. “As human beings we developed in the context of nature, evolutionarily,” she said. “We were immersed. We were part of nature, and we are still, but we have increasingly grown apart from that relationship.”

    That changed over time. Now people spend little time in nature even though it’s often all around them.

    “From an eco-psychological sort of point of view, we’re embedded in that system, and we’re harming that system because of that separation that’s developed,” she said. 


     

    Questions to consider:

    1. What is “climate anxiety”?

    2. What is the connection between climate anxiety and education?

    3. How do you handle the stresses that you are under?


     

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  • Giving species the space they need

    Giving species the space they need

    In 1979, Patricia Majluf, then a biology student, started studying eared seals at San Juan. Two species coexist without competing for food on the peninsula: the South American fur seal (Arctocephalus australis) and sea lions (Otaria flavescens).

    A colony of South American fur seals resting at a beach. (Photo: Alfonso Silva-Santisteban)

    In Spanish, they are known as the “fine” and “common” sea lions (lobo fino y lobo chusco), because of their type of fur that led them to be hunted for clothing decades ago.

    Majluf is now one of the most respected marine biologists in the region, whose work led to the creation of a Punta San Juan Program. In 2009, the Peruvian government declared San Juan a natural protected area. Cárdenas arrived as Majluf’s student in 2004. Today, she is a professor at the Universidad Peruana Cayetano Heredia and directs the program.

    “You are the biologist behind the wall, you live and die there,” she said.

    A sea wall protects sea life.

    Kevin Farfán during a daily monitor round.

    Kevin Farfán during a daily monitor round. (Photo by Alfonso Silva-Santisteban)

    Kevin Farfán puts on his windbreaker, hangs up his binoculars and camera and begins his daily monitoring round at 6:30 a.m. He started as an intern seven years ago and now coordinates the station. He walks by San Juan’s 20 beaches, while Odeth Perez, who is on her way to an observation post, says hello from afar.

    All year round, at least two people at the station observe animal behavior, count species with drones and camera traps and monitor sea and air temperatures. Once a year, with the help of U.S. veterinarians, they capture and tag a sample of eared seals and penguins to attach transmitters and study their movements.

    “We have 40 years of data,” Cárdenas said.

    Since 2013, the team has crossed the wall separating the peninsula to connect with the residents of Marcona, a neighboring town founded in the 1950s after the discovery of an iron deposit.

    They began with guided tours. Since 2023, they have initiated a project called Natural Classrooms with students from local schools, serving a town with 15,000 inhabitants.

    Biologist Ximena Turcke is one of the guides. “It is important to reach the children, especially the younger ones,” Turcke said. On this day, she was leading a group of 30 students from Miguel Grau School to one of the viewpoints and later, to a neighboring beach for group work. “I’ve always liked people to identify with their place, wherever they go,” she said.

    Recovery and threats

    The most important thing to remember when walking in San Juan is not to disturb the animals. The eared seal breeding season starts in October and peaks between January and February.

    A group of 1,500 guanay cormorants arrived in October 2024. Before the avian flu in 2022, there were so many that they sometimes blocked the entrance to the team’s observation booth.

    Cárdenas said that there are few places where so many different animals with breeding colonies come together and that’s why the virus spread so quickly.

    Avian influenza AH5N1 is a subtype that affects birds and mammals, including humans in rare cases. The virus emerged in China in 1996 and has caused sporadic outbreaks. However, in 2020, a more transmissible variant of the virus passed from poultry to wild birds and began migrating worldwide. It reached North America in 2021 and South America in 2022. The flu spread from Peru to Chile, Argentina and Uruguay, affecting sea birds and mammals. There were no human cases.

    When Cárdenas arrived in San Juan, wildlife was recovering from the 1998 El Niño phenomenon and she saw how animals adapt to cycles when food is scarce. That’s why she remains optimistic about the repopulation of San Juan. But it will take several years and human activity must not alter the conditions for recovery.

    “There’s an incredible resilience,” she said.

    Limits on fishing

    One of the main threats is fishing. Industrial fishing takes almost 9 out of 10 anchovetas from the Peruvian sea to make fishmeal. Four tons of anchoveta produce one ton of fishmeal, which is mainly used to feed salmon, pigs or chickens in industrial farms around the world.

    Year after year, there are tensions between the fishing industry, the state and environmentalists over fishing quotas or minimum sizes of anchovies that can be caught. The Institute of the Peruvian Sea, the national scientific organization concerning the sustainability of marine resources, is part of the Ministry of Production.

    The conflict of interest is evident for Cárdenas, whose team has observed, by analyzing the feces of eared seals, that these are feeding more and more on smaller fish with less nutritional value. They are consuming what ecologists have called marine ecosystems’ junk food.

    In 2023, the state suspended the first industrial fishing season due to El Niño but reinstated the second one. It was too soon for Cárdenas and Farfán. They oppose the industry’s approach of expanding fishing almost indefinitely without consequences. “There have been no lessons learned from all this,” Cárdenas said. “It’s when these things happen that conservancy is most urgent.”


    Three questions to consider:

    1. How does fishing affect sea life?

    2. How are researchers working to help the sea life at Punta San Juan?

    3. What, if anything, can you do to help wildlife near you?


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  • Could Trump’s tariffs end up spurring green innovation?

    Could Trump’s tariffs end up spurring green innovation?

    U.S. President Donald Trump has never been a champion of the environment. From gutting climate policies to rolling back crucial environmental protections, the track record of the U.S. president speaks for itself. 

    But his announcement this month of steep tariffs on a sweeping range of foreign-made goods intended to boost U.S. production may also inadvertently fuel a global shift toward green innovation and a more sustainable future.

    During his first term, Trump pulled the United States out of the Paris Agreement, slashed pollution regulations and gave the fossil fuel industry a free pass. One of his most controversial moves was opening up the Arctic National Wildlife Refuge (ANWR) to drilling — a pristine, ecologically-sensitive area home to polar bears, caribou and Indigenous communities that depend on the land.

    Now, he’s back — and this time, his weapon of choice is tariffs. The Trump administration has imposed tariffs on all imports from China, Mexico and Canada, as well as on steel, aluminium and cars from around the world.

    By targeting key imports like clean energy components and critical minerals, Trump’s latest trade war threatens to derail climate progress, drive up costs for renewable energy and push the United States further into fossil fuel dependence. The damage is real and the consequences could be catastrophic.

    Tariffs could hamper climate change efforts.

    The implementation of broad tariffs is poised to significantly hinder efforts against climate change and weaken environmental legislation. Here’s how:​

    Disruption of clean energy supply chains: The tariffs, particularly those targeting imports from China like steel, aluminium and lithium directly affect the availability and cost of clean technology components. For instance, the United States imports a substantial amount of lithium batteries from China — $1.9 billion worth in December 2024 alone. Increased tariffs on these imports could raise costs for renewable energy projects and electric vehicles, slowing the transition to cleaner energy sources. ​

    The energy sector is already grappling with shortages of essential parts. New tariffs exacerbate this issue, making it more challenging to procure necessary components for renewable energy infrastructure. This could delay projects and increase reliance on fossil fuels, counteracting efforts to reduce greenhouse gas emissions. ​

    Strain on environmental initiatives: The stock market’s negative reaction to the tariff announcements, with the Dow Jones dropping nearly 1,700 points and erasing approximately $3.1 trillion in market value, indicates broader economic instability. Such financial turmoil can lead to reduced funding and support for environmental programs, as both public and private sectors may prioritize immediate economic concerns over long-term environmental goals. ​

    As Trump imposes tariffs, his administration is also rolling back environmental protections. His Environmental Protection Agency is now questioning a key 2009 ruling that classifies greenhouse gases like carbon dioxide as harmful to human health. If the courts overturn it, this could weaken U.S. climate laws and make it harder to fight climate change.

    Unintended consequences

    While Trump’s tariffs largely threaten climate progress in the United States, they could have unintended environmental benefits elsewhere.

    Boosting green manufacturing in other countries: If U.S. tariffs make Chinese solar panels, batteries and EV components more expensive, other countries — especially in Europe, India and Latin America — may ramp up their own clean energy production. China itself may increase investment and focus on domestic EV adoption, hydrogen technology or battery recycling. 

    This could lead to a more diversified and resilient global supply chain for renewable technologies, while also strengthening domestic energy resilience by encouraging countries to develop and secure their own clean energy resources, reducing reliance on foreign imports.

    Strengthening regional trade alliances for green tech: With the imposing trade barriers, countries looking to avoid tariffs might strengthen regional partnerships, such as the EU-India green energy collaboration or China’s push to supply African and Latin American markets with solar and wind technology. This could decentralize the clean energy economy, reducing reliance on any single country.

    Reducing export-driven deforestation: If tariffs make U.S. imports of commodities like beef, palm oil and timber more expensive, countries that export these products (e.g., Brazil, Indonesia) may face declining demand. Less demand equals less incentive to clear forests for agriculture.

    On the other hand, the EU Deforestation Regulation (EUDR), adopted in June 2023, aims to block imports of commodities linked to deforestation unless they can be verified as deforestation-free. The EU is a huge consumer of these commodities. 

    With two major markets (U.S. and EU) becoming less profitable for deforestation-linked goods, exporters might change their practices to comply with stricter regulations. This could encourage more sustainable supply chains.

    However, this would depend on whether other countries, like China, pick up the slack and implement EUDR-like regulations.

    Backing off petroleum

    If trade wars escalate and tariffs disrupt global markets, long-term investments in fossil fuel projects could become riskier due to economic uncertainty. Tariffs on fossil fuel-related goods — like equipment, machinery or raw materials — can increase production costs for oil and gas companies. 

    As the cost of extraction, refining and transportation rises, companies could face shrinking profit margins, making fossil fuel investments less appealing. This, and shifting focus to clean energy, might push investors toward renewables, which are increasingly seen as more stable and future-proof.

    There’s a catch: These benefits depend on how other countries respond. If the U.S. tariffs cause economic slowdowns, some nations might double down on fossil fuels to stabilize their economies. So while tariffs could have some green silver linings, they’re more of a chaotic wildcard than a deliberate climate strategy.

    While the tariffs imposed by the Trump administration present significant challenges to global climate efforts, they also create opportunities for positive change. The disruptions in the clean energy supply chain, economic instability and rollbacks of environmental protections are certainly concerning. However, the unintended side effects of these actions might just catalyze a shift in global energy dynamics.

    In the long run, this “chaotic wildcard” could make fossil fuel investments riskier and accelerate the global pivot toward renewables. Countries and industries could be forced to innovate and adapt faster than expected. 

    While the path ahead may seem uncertain, there’s a silver lining: resilience, innovation and adaptability are key to overcoming these challenges. As the world adjusts to these new realities, the opportunity to cultivate a cleaner, more sustainable future is within reach — if leaders recognize this moment and take bold action to seize it. 

    So, while the road ahead may be bumpy, there is still reason to hope and act. 


     

    Questions to consider:

    1. How can governments turn the economic disruptions caused by tariffs into opportunities for advancing clean energy and climate goals?

    2. How can a decentralization of green energy technology be a good thing? 

    3. How can government intervention combined with market forces, like the rising cost of fossil fuels, accelerate the transition to renewable energy?


     

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  • The mining of sand scars Kenya’s land

    The mining of sand scars Kenya’s land

    From space, Kenya’s sand-mining crisis is starkly visible. Satellite images reveal scars gouging riverbeds throughout its historic Rift Valley and fully extending border to border, west to east, from the shorelines of Lake Victoria to the Indian Ocean. 

    These growing scars tell the story of the nation’s booming construction sector and of a largely unregulated trade: sand harvesting.

    Sand is the world’s second-most consumed natural resource after water. It fuels construction booms globally, including in Kenya, where urban expansion and large infrastructure projects have surged. Yet sand is also among the most illegally trafficked natural commodities.

    In Kenya alone, around 50 million metric tonnes of sand worth roughly US$600 million are extracted each year, mainly for expansion of the nation’s capital, Nairobi, and major infrastructure projects. Yet the true cost of this extraction, particularly illegal operations, is far higher in terms of environmental degradation and human impact.

    “The scale of environmental crime related to sand harvesting is significant but poorly understood,” says Dr. Willis Okumu, a senior researcher at ARIN Africa, an organization dedicated to sustainable management of natural resources and environmental governance. 

    A multinational problem

    Okumu describes Lake Victoria — Africa’s largest lake by area, bordering Tanzania and Uganda as well as Kenya — as a convergence point for environmental crimes. These include illicit sand harvesting, charcoal burning and timber smuggling, facilitated by weak enforcement across bordering countries.

    Illegal sand harvesting strips riverbanks and lakeshores. It weakens soil structures, causes landslides and floods and devastates aquatic habitats. River systems feeding into Lake Victoria have suffered badly, threatening fisheries crucial to local livelihoods.

    These operations cause severe environmental impacts. Unregulated extraction weakens riverbanks, disrupts ecosystems, and significantly increases risks of flooding and deadly landslides. 

    River ecosystems, including those around Lake Victoria, suffer profound damage. Aquatic habitats and biodiversity are severely disrupted, jeopardizing livelihoods that rely on fishing and farming. Communities struggle with declining water quality and availability that are directly tied to unregulated sand extraction.

    In Mombasa, a city in southeastern Kenya along the Indian Ocean, unregulated sand extraction has altered river flows. This has disrupted irrigation systems, making it harder for farmers to grow food in a region already hit by drought.

    Sand loss and social ills

    Socially, the consequences are equally dire. The United Nations Environment Programme reports that “sand extraction and its trade are fuelling a myriad of social issues in Kenya, with violence and deaths related to sand trade widely documented.” School dropouts, teenage pregnancies and drug abuse spike as impoverished youth turn to illegal sand mining for quick income.

    Communities in the Rift Valley face a difficult trade-off: short-term survival through sand work or long-term sustainability. In Nakuru County, uncontrolled sand extraction has left homes exposed to erosion and collapse. Residents report that land beneath their feet is quite literally disappearing.

    Consolata Achieng, of Asieko Village in Nakuru County, told a local news reporter that all the land surrounding her property had been sold off to harvesters over the last eight years. “We were assured that harvesting had stopped but we still see workers and lorries every day,” she said. “A lot of people live around here and have nowhere to go. This is the place we call home.”

    Communities can also find themselves caught between environmental concerns and lack of alternatives. “All you need is a spade,” noted one senior Kenyan civil servant, highlighting how easy it is to mine sand. Labourers, including school-aged children, work in dangerous pits for low wages. 

    The lucrative nature of sand mining has attracted organized criminal groups that exploit the resource with impunity. Violent confrontations have occurred between cartels and local communities attempting to protect their resources, leading to injuries and fatalities.  

    These organized crime groups — known locally as “sand cartels” — are central to the illegal trade, often operating under the protection of corrupt state officials, enabling them to bypass regulations and continue illegal activities. 

    Countering illegal mining requires coordinated efforts

    According to ENACT Africa, a program that focuses on addressing transnational organized crime in Africa, weak co-ordination among law-enforcement agencies across borders allows such networks to thrive. Violent confrontations have occurred between cartels and local communities attempting to protect their resources, leading to injuries and even deaths. 

    Efforts to regulate the industry have largely failed due to corruption and ineffective governance. In a UNEP Global Sand Analysis report, a senior official bluntly observed: “All you need to do is pay,” reflecting systemic bribery and regulatory capture, which occurs when a government agency that was created to act in the public’s interest ends up serving the interests of the industry it’s supposed to be regulating. 

    UNEP has warned that sand is becoming dangerously scarce. It advocates for stronger global regulations, regional co-operation and alternative construction materials such as crushed rock and recycled debris.

    In Kenya, sand isn’t just used locally. It’s also smuggled to neighbouring countries and, allegedly, to international markets — further complicating enforcement.

    However, there are signs of hope. Kenyan authorities have created specialized investigative units in the Mining Police Unit to crack down on illegal extraction. Officials are also piloting new tools, such as satellite tracking and GPS monitoring of trucks, to improve oversight.

    Protecting the land

    Some counties are fighting back. In West Pokot county, authorities recently launched new sand-harvesting policies to control extraction and protect the environment. 

    In Makueni County, the government implemented a comprehensive sand regulation act that has significantly reduced illegal activities and environmental damage within its jurisdiction. When the county lifted its decade-long ban on commercial sand mining to boost revenue, the move sparked concern among residents, who fear the return of water shortages and environmental degradation.

    The persistence of illegal sand mining underscores the need for robust enforcement of regulations, community engagement and the promotion of alternative construction materials to reduce reliance on natural sand resources. 

    Without urgent and co-ordinated action, Kenya faces continued ecological destruction and intensified community conflicts. As Okumu emphasized, transparent governance and meaningful community participation are critical. “With currently poor public participation, rehabilitation work rarely follows in Kenya’s land-based sand mining projects,” he said, underscoring the critical need for reform.

    Research across Africa shows a consistent pattern: profits flow to powerful players, while environmental costs fall on the poorest. Labourers risk their lives in collapsing pits. Farmers and fishers lose the very resources they rely on.

    “We are running out of time,” Okumu said. “Without immediate regional action, environmental damage from sand harvesting will become irreversible, devastating ecosystems and the communities dependent upon them.”

     


    Questions to consider:

    1. Why is sand so valuable?

    2. How are countries like Kenya trying to stop the mining of sand?

    3. Can you think of ways concrete and cement are used near you? Could you think of alternative materials?


     

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  • Can fiction help us get to the truth about climate change?

    Can fiction help us get to the truth about climate change?

    Truth in fiction

    That’s where fiction can come in. But most climate fiction presents gloomy scenarios: think the waterless world of Arrakis in Frank Herbert’s “Dune” series or our earth after a virus wiped out most of human life in Margaret Atwood’s “Oryx and Crake” trilogy.

    In contrast, Baden’s story showed more positive solutions. Her own research found that 98% of her readers changed their attitudes. A month after reading the story 60% of readers actually adopted a green alternative.

    She’s set to release “Murder in the Climate Assembly“, a fictional story about the ramifications of a murder that takes place in a citizens’ assembly on climate.

    Some media organizations are now including climate change awareness initiatives that use fictional examples into their marketing campaigns.

    Baden worked with BAFTA, the British Academy of Film and Television Arts, to create social media content that provided solutions with a tinge of humour. For example, they contrasted the carbon footprint of two popular characters from books and movies: James Bond who drives a gas guzzling sports car and has a walk-in wardrobe versus Jack Reacher who traveled by bus and shopped second-hand.

    Making environmentalism fun

    Pilot testing showed interesting results: “If we just presented the negative one like James Bond, some people laughed and thought it was funny, but a few people thought they were being a bit preached at and switched off,” Baden said. “Whereas when you kind of had both together with a bit of humor, that seemed to hit the right spot.”

    Pike agreed: “Comedy too allows us to let our guard down. When we open our mouth to laugh, our mind is open to learn.”

    When Pike was in Chile working on the PhD that led to her book she found that she loved the animated series “The Simpsons“. In 2008, one of the three TV channels played Simpsons episodes endlessly, she said. Simpsons creator Matt Groening intended his show to make people aware of environmental challenges and complications in ways that start conversations, she said.

    Context makes a difference too. “I read ecoactivist discourse in South America and it seemed so darn white and privileged,” Pike said. “If you read “Burning Rage of a Dying Planet” in a comfortable U.S. suburb, it’s one thing. If you read the same book in Chile, it feels different, almost too precious, definitely not the tone I would take in talking about ecology in South American countries.”

    The Center for Health Communication at Harvard University says that showing, not telling induces stronger emotional responses as visual imagery and helps our brains understand abstract and complex associations like those between climate and health.

    Connecting emotion to change

    Telling stories through books, plays or social media also help to create emotion, and change beliefs and behaviours. They may also reduce feelings of anxiety and depression that surface when bombarded with alarmist news about the climate crisis. Focusing on solutions is more effective.

    Pike said the way to get through the barrage of media messages and talk about the climate crisis is with honesty, independence and humour. “Acknowledge the hypocrisy and move on toward solutions,” Pike said. “A solution offers me a choice, agency, a chance to put up a sail and navigate to a goal.”

    Pike taught a class called “Environmental Reporting for a Hopeful Planet” in the spring 2024 semester. One assignment was “Forest Friday”: students were asked to read, watch or listen to examples of environmental storytelling.

    One week, the students were assigned a video of Rebecca Solnit. She’s a writer, historian and activist who has been examining hope and the unpredictability of change for more than two decades. In 2023 she co-edited an anthology called “It’s Not Too Late”, a guide for finding hope even while climate change-induced disasters continue. This is what one student said after they watched that video:

    “I felt reassured by her calmness and her endless lists of knowledge of times and places in which meaningful change has occurred. I think she makes many great points about the way that just because ideas don’t always get the opportunity to fully take shape they are still impactful on society as a whole.”

    So, what’s the best way to write about the climate crisis?

    “Read environmental writing and write,” Pike said. “Be so deeply curious about how ecology works, how nature and culture interact, how businesses and institutions works and their role in the climate crisis.”

    Ways to write effectively

    Having a community of people who also write about and care about the environment can also help. But most importantly, Pike said: “Work to tell a story well.”

    This means reading the publications which interest you and seeing if your story would be a good fit. Try different mediums. Take Dr. Seuss’ “The Lorax”. It’s a children’s book written in 1971 about a character who speaks for the trees as a business tycoon destroys the environment. The story encourages activism and involvement in making the situation better. In it the Lorax tells us: “Unless someone like you cares a whole awful lot, nothing is going to get better. It’s not.”

    More recently, there are films like “Flow“, which won an Academy Award for Best Animated Feature and was nominated for Best International Feature Film, and “The Wild Robot“, which was nominated for three Academy Awards including Best Animated Feature.

    In both, climate change is a world-building element; one showed a submerged Golden Gate Bridge, the other showed a flood of biblical proportions. But they’re both animated films, with cute animals coming together to save the world, reaching a younger audience who will grow up with climate change and its impacts.

    Creating a story that can make people think about our planet and how we can tackle climate change isn’t easy. Pike said it is worth persevering.

    “If you get tired, don’t give up,” Pike said. “Rest and get back to it when you can. We all plant seeds and it’s hard to say which ones will take.”


     

    Three questions to consider:

    1. What makes you switch off the news when a story about climate change comes on?
    2. What happens to our brain when we show, rather than tell, in our writing on climate change?
    3. What might you learn in a course like “Environmental Reporting for a Hopeful Planet?” 

     

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  • Decoder: The Paris (Dis)Agreement

    Decoder: The Paris (Dis)Agreement

    The newspapers dubbed it “unprecedented”, “historic”, “landmark”.

    Then-U.S. President Barack Obama called it a “tribute to strong, principled American leadership”.

    When 195 countries came together nearly 10 years ago to adopt a legally binding agreement to try to avert the worst effects of climate change, it was considered a triumph of diplomacy and a potential turning point for the world. The deal that emerged is now so well-known it is referred to simply as “the Paris Agreement” or “the Paris Accords” — or sometimes just “Paris”.

    But with a stroke — or several — of his black-and-gold pen, U.S. President Donald Trump has taken the United States out of the fight to stop global warming, casting the future of the pact and everything it hoped to accomplish into doubt.

    Has the departure of the United States doomed the campaign to cut greenhouse gas emissions to failure? And if not, who will take up the torch Trump has cast aside?

    Uncharted waters

    The good news is that climate change experts believe the benefits of a transition to renewables — from energy independence to cleaner air — are so compelling the shift will go with or without the United States.

    The bad is that Trump’s actions will give many countries and companies an excuse to leave the battlefield. And that may make it impossible to meet the Paris Agreement’s goal of holding temperature rises to well below 2 degrees Celsius.

    Listing all the steps Trump has taken so far to undermine the climate campaign would take hundreds of words. So here are just a few.

    Since 20 January 2025, the newly-minted U.S. government has:

    Withdrawn from the Paris agreement for the second time – joining the ranks of Yemen, Iran and Libya as the only countries outside the pact.

    • Said the Environmental Protection Agency would look at overturning a 2009 ruling that greenhouse gases threaten the health of current and future generations – effectively gutting the agency’s legal authority to regulate U.S. emissions.

    • Rolled back dozens of Biden-era pollution rules.

    Abandoned a deal under which rich countries promised to help poorer ones afford to make the transition to sustainable energy.

    • Eliminated support for domestic and international climate research by scientists.

    Halted approvals for green energy projects planned for federal lands and waters.

    • Removed climate change references from federal websites.

    • Set the stage to fulfil Trump’s promise to let oil companies “drill, baby, drill” by declaring an energy emergency, which will allow him to fast-track projects.

    Eliot Whittington, chief systems change officer at the Cambridge Institute for Sustainability Leadership, said that the United States is entering genuinely uncharted waters.

    “The Trump administration is making changes far in excess of its legal authority and drawing more power into itself and away from Congress, states and the courts,” Whittington said. “It is doing so in service of an explicitly ideological agenda that is hostile to much green action — despite the popularity of environmental benefits and high level of environmental concern in the U.S.”

    Alibi for inaction

    Trump has repeatedly — and falsely — called the scientifically-proven fact that mankind’s actions are leading to planetary heating a hoax. In November 2024, following the onslaught of deadly Hurricane Helene, he said it was “one of the greatest scams of all time”.

    For a hoax, climate change is packing a painful punch.

    Last year was the hottest on record, and yet even with countries touting net-zero gains, emissions also hit a new high. According to World Weather Attribution, the record temperatures worsened heatwaves, droughts, wildfires, storms and floods that killed thousands, displaced millions and destroyed infrastructure and property.

    In other words, the need to curb emissions is only growing more urgent.

    Alister Doyle, a News Decoder correspondent who authored “The Great Melt: Accounts from the Frontline of Climate Change“, believes Trump’s anti-green policies will slow but not stop the move away from fossil fuels.

    “But while other nations will stick with the Paris Agreement, almost none are doing enough,” he said. “Trump’s decision to quit will provide an alibi for inaction by many other governments and companies.”

    Voters look to their wallets

    Ambivalence about net-zero policies had been on the rise even before Trump took office, stoked by populist political parties.

    There are clear long-term economic benefits of the transition — from faster growth to the avoidance of costs linked to natural disasters. But Whittington said that the short-term sacrifices and infrastructure spending it will require have proven a tough sell when voters are facing difficult financial circumstances at home.

    “After a global inflation shock post-pandemic, governments have little financial space to defray the costs of upfront investment and generally voters feel like they don’t have the space to take on additional costs, even as a down payment on a better future,” Whittington said.

    This is further complicated by a powerful lobby against climate action led by oil and gas companies, which have devoted hundreds of millions of dollars to the effort. While most have also made public commitments to green goals, the sentiment shift has led several to abandon most or all of these in the past few weeks.

    Whittington believes that, despite these setbacks, the energy transition will eventually gain enough momentum that even fossil fuel producers will be unable to step on the brakes. It will be led by multiple countries and propelled by a variety of forces.

    Chief among these is the need in today’s politically fractured world for energy security: the guarantee a country will have access to an uninterrupted — and uninterruptible — supply of energy at a price it can afford. This is particularly important to countries dependent on imported energy.

    China leads the way.

    In its pursuit of energy self-sufficiency, China — both the world’s largest fossil fuel importer and the world’s top greenhouse gas emitter — has earned itself a less dubious distinction: it now leads the globe in the production of renewable energy and electric vehicles.

    “The International Energy Agency says that China could be producing as much solar power by the early 2030s as total U.S. electricity demand today,” Doyle said.

    Europe, meanwhile, has been on a quest to wean itself of Russian oil and gas and has rapidly increased its adoption of renewables. The United Kingdom, meanwhile, is currently the world’s second-largest wind power producer and plans to double capacity by 2030.

    “Europe as a whole — including the UK — generally is leading the world in showing how to cut emissions and grow the economy,” Whittington said.

    The United States, he added, will likely stay involved in areas where it holds a technical edge, such as battery development.

    Even the Middle East will have an increasingly compelling motive for going green(er): the need for other sources of income as fossil fuel demand falls from a peak expected in 2030.

    Public pressure itself may again become a driving force for change.

    As hurricanes, wildfires, droughts, heatwaves and other climate-related disasters increase — and as a younger, more climate-aware generation finds its voice — voters may start worrying less about their personal finances and more about the future of the planet.

     


    Three questions to consider:

    1. What is meant by the “green economy”?
    2. How can a government encourage or discourage climate action?
    3. What, if any, changes to your lifestyle have you made to help our planet?


     

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