In 2023, I embarked on a journey with a group of energy policy researchers from Beijing to visit several Chinese coal cities. We wanted to understand the implementation of China’s decarbonization policies in the heartland of coal mining. As we drove into a coal-rich town in western Shanxi Province, the narrow roads were filled with loud rumbling coal trucks. Amid soot-streaked buildings, newer homes housed families who were relocated from areas affected by coal mining subsidence. The town’s existence hinged on coal. Yet, this dependency has an expiration date — the local mines will be depleted in 10 to 15 years.

Li Meini, a junior high school student in Beijing’s Tiantongyuan Community, was seeing more news about wildfires, floods and heat waves and couldn’t stop worrying about the safety of the local wildlife. “…Animals have nowhere to escape from wildfires and floods…their homes are destroyed in an instant. Humans have technology to reduce the impact of climate warming. I hope these technologies can also help wild animals better survive.”

Each spring, as Shenzhen’s mangroves burst into life, the region becomes a prime spot for birdwatchers observing the endangered, black-faced spoonbill. Known as the giant panda of birds, this species winters in Shenzhen Bay from October to April, in preparation for its northbound migration. Shenzhen Bay, located in southern China and part of the Pearl River Delta expanding into Hong Kong, is a crucial stop-off point for migratory birds using the East Asian-Australasian flyway. The mangroves support over 200 species of birds and host 100,000 migratory birds each winter, drawing enthusiasts and scientists alike to witness these natural spectacles against the backdrop of one of China’s most bustling urban settings.

During the World Wildlife Fund’s Plastic Policy Summit in March in Washington D.C., I grabbed coffee in a white ceramic mug provided by the convention venue. Reusable mugs seemed unusual amid today’s prevalence of single-use cups, prompting me to reflect on how we have normalized single-use: I bought yogurt and soda in returnable bottles in Beijing; generations before us grew up with reuse. Why did we move away from it?

Like bamboo sprouts after the rain, nuclear reactors are going up quickly across China. There are 36 reactors under development, and Beijing can approve as many as 10 new ones a year. Within a decade, China will likely pass the United States—which has 93 operating commercial nuclear reactors at 54 power plants—as the world’s biggest generator of nuclear power.

The construction boom across Southeast Asia, driven by burgeoning urban development and infrastructure projects, vividly highlights the dual impacts of progress. For instance, the rapid expansion of road networks, ports, and urban centers, while catalyzing economic growth, has also led to significant environmental and social displacement. These projects rely heavily on sand, a fundamental component of concrete and asphalt, extracted in vast quantities from local riverbeds. Annually, this global demand reaches approximately 50 billion tons, positioning sand as the world’s most consumed resource after water. In the Vietnamese Mekong Delta alone, 50 million cubic meters of sand are extracted annually.

Back in 2020, Shiyang Li at Rare visited restaurants across China to interview over 30 different owners and staff about the attitudes, beliefs, and everyday behaviors that contribute to food waste.  Similar to global trends, food waste in China remains a significant challenge. A 2020 survey found restaurants in Chinese cities wasted at least 34 million tons of food every year, which can feed as many as 49 million people.

During a visit to Vietnam in November 2023, I cringed as my aunt tossed our now empty bánh mì plastic bag onto the sidewalk. “It doesn’t really matter,” she shrugged, “there aren’t any nearby trash cans anyway.” Finding a trash can wouldn’t have helped much, as two-thirds of Vietnam’s plastic waste ends up burnt, landfilled, or leaked.