Mildred is a fish trader in Kenya. I met her a few years ago, when I was conducting research. (“Mildred” is not her real name; I promised all my participants anonymity as I worked.) She mentors, trains, and educates young women on how to dry, gut, fry fish, and run successful fish businesses.  

Seeing Loreta sort and dry her Omena sardines at the shores of Lake Victoria in Western Kenya, one may dismiss this small, middle-aged woman as an ordinary fishmonger struggling to earn a living.

Over the past decade, our understanding of how climate change affects conflict and security has advanced considerably. Yet, how to best address the overlapping challenges of climate change, conflict, and human security remains an open question. In an article published in World Development, I address this topic by examining how climate security discourses inform development policy and, in turn, how the structures of development enable or constrain institutional capacity to address climate security. This research identifies not only the unique barriers the development sector must overcome, but also the ways in which the most common framings of climate change (i.e., as a threat multiplier) limit the scope for policy and programming.

Until 2016, the agrarian residents of east Kenya’s Kitui county had never encountered a water quality monitor like Mary Musenya. Wearing a bright blue company jersey and furnished with sample bottles and plastic trays, the young Kenyan is a water safety officer for FundiFix, a tiny rural water supply service company. She is one of 20 staff who manage 130 pumps, plus pipes and water tanks that serve 82,000 people across a 1,000 square-mile service area in Kitui and Kwale counties. 

Joyce Makasi, a young woman in Kambiti village, Kitui County, Kenya, went into labor with her second child one afternoon in December 2020. She had just enough money to hire a motorbike to take her to nearby Waita health center. At the facility, the clinical officer and nurse told her she would need a cesarean delivery. It wouldn’t be her first cesarean, but COVID-19 presented new obstacles.

Amid the COVID-19 pandemic, communities across the globe are experiencing unprecedented climate disasters.

According to modeling by ProPublica, the Pulitzer Center, and The New York Times Magazine, in the event that governments take “modest action to reduce climate emissions, about 680,000 climate migrants might move from Central America and Mexico to the United States by 2050.” That number leaps to above a million people in a scenario where no action is taken. The impacts of climate change on people’s decision to move are not constrained to the developing world, or even across borders. A recent study found that one in 12 Americans currently residing in the southern U.S. will move to California and the Northwest over the next 45 years because of climate influences.

“Our world is grappling with the COVID-19 pandemic and also coming to terms with systematic racism and oppression that black communities and communities of color continue to experience in the United States and in other parts of the world,” said Sarah Craven, Director of the Washington, D.C. office at the United Nations Population Fund (UNFPA) at a recent webinar launching UNFPA’s 2020 State of the World’s Population Report. This year’s report, titled Against My Will, covers three widespread practices that violate human rights, but are still accepted in many cultures—son preference, child marriage, and female genital mutilation/cutting (FGM/C).

The global coronavirus pandemic, now in its third month, is precipitating a financial crisis for water utilities in low- and middle-income countries as many of these service providers face drastic cuts in revenue and rising costs to respond to the public health emergency.