It’s telling that one of the first actions that Russian forces took in their invasion of Ukraine was to blow up a dam on the North Crimean Canal (NCC), allowing water to flow back into Crimea. The current war being waged by Russia in Ukraine has its origins in fractured and contested political history, but there are also key natural resource security questions which often go overlooked. While there are established debates about the extent to which natural resources contribute to conflict, the current conflagration exemplifies a rare use of water as a means of direct leverage in a military standoff. Regardless of the outcome of the conflict, the tensions between Russia and Ukraine over the NCC illustrate the need to consider the role of natural resources—and access to them—in broader diplomatic efforts.

“After a series of poor harvests, limited rainfall, and an increase in the price of fertilizer, farm work has become unprofitable,” said Lazher, a fellah (agricultural laborer) from Tataouine in the rural south east of Tunisia. The 45-year-old had worked the land for half his life, even dropping out of school early to support his young family. However, when I met Lazher in December 2021, he was making the final arrangements to migrate to Tunisia’s capital, Tunis, in search of better job opportunities. Now, with diminishing local opportunities for agricultural work and few local companies that might hire unemployed laborers, Lazher secured work in one of Tunis’s many dried fruit shops called hamas. 

“Water wars”—violent clashes over scarce water resources—have for decades been predicted as likely or certain to happen. But while water-related issues can be contributors to conflict, Jeroen Warner and Sumit Vij dispel the water wars hypothesis in last month’s top post, arguing that it diverts attention “from issues like human security and governance of natural resources.” 

In Nairobi this month, the world’s governments will discuss the path towards the first global treaty to tackle plastic pollution. But with multiple proposals on the table, the scope and ambition of a potential treaty hangs in the balance.

“The COVID-19 pandemic has amplified pre-existing inequalities and vulnerabilities,” writes the United Nations Population Fund (UNFPA) in a recent report on the impact of COVID-19 on sex workers in East and Southern Africa. The pandemic has had an impact on people in marginalized communities around the world, but for sex workers globally, “the impact on livelihoods, human rights and health has been devastating, leaving many struggling to survive,” states the report.

As northeast China freezes with the onset of winter, cranes fly south to Poyang Lake, China’s largest freshwater wetland sanctuary, along with hundreds of thousands of migratory wildfowl. For birds that feed on tubers of submerged aquatic plants, such as the critically endangered Siberian Crane, the threatened and declining Swan Goose, and thousands of Tundra Swans, Poyang’s food-rich winter wetlands are key to their survival. However, dams along the Yangtze River and growing floods are disturbing the natural rise and fall of water levels that are needed for Poyang’s aquatic plants to thrive. Poorly regulated and expanding sand dredging in the Yangtze River and Poyang Lake is increasing turbulence in the water, limiting light reaching the aquatic plants that migratory birds rely on. 

Evidence shows that in low- and middle-income countries, the expansion of health coverage or access to care has not always reduced overall mortality, said Dr. Patricia Jodrey, Child Health Team Lead in the Office of Maternal and Child Health and Nutrition at the U.S. Agency for International Development (USAID). “However, the analysis also showed that when countries have progressed in improving the quality of their health systems, the survival rate tends to improve,” she said.

Growing up in Austria in the 1990s, one of the underlying lessons I learned in middle school was that nuclear power is humanity’s downfall. Though never explicitly described that way in the curriculum, from a young age my peers and I knew to associate the black-and-yellow trefoil symbol with apocalyptic environmental destruction. Reflecting on my upbringing helps me understand why so many in Germany, Austria, Denmark, Greece, and Italy argue that nuclear power should be our last resort as an energy resource. How could we allow the development and use of such dangerous technologies in our own lives? How could we just move on and accept that a nuclear accident could kill all of us at any moment?