War has always left a lasting impact—not just on infrastructure and human lives, but also on the environment. Conflict accelerates environmental degradation and can even hasten the effects of climate change. With the recent announcement of a ceasefire proposal by the United States and Israel in the ongoing Middle East conflict, the world waits to see whether Iran will also de-escalate. While geopolitical considerations dominate the headlines, the environmental implications of such conflicts often go unaddressed.
One of the gravest fears is the potential for nuclear confrontation. According to a 2022 report published in Nature Food, even a limited regional nuclear conflict could result in global agricultural collapse, with over 2 billion people at risk of famine. The detonation of nuclear weapons would inject soot into the stratosphere, drastically cooling the planet, disrupting rainfall, and collapsing food systems.
Even in non-nuclear conflicts, the environmental toll is profound. War zones see massive destruction of forests, contamination of water bodies, displacement of people, and strain on ecosystems. When civilians flee conflict zones, receiving regions often face sudden population surges, placing pressure on limited resources. Forests are cleared for firewood, water systems are overused or contaminated, and waste management collapses under the strain.
In Kenya’s northern coast, the village of Koreni in Lamu County tells a story of conflict’s long shadow. Decades ago, the community fled after attacks by the Shifta militia, a group responsible for widespread insecurity in northern Kenya during the 1960s and 1970s. Alhaman Dokota recalls fleeing as a young boy with his family to escape the banditry that terrorized pastoral communities in the area.
Their return in 2001, during President Mwai Kibaki’s administration—often called Kenya’s “second liberation” era—offered hope. But when they came back, they found their ancestral land had been grabbed and occupied illegally. To this day, they remain embroiled in legal battles to reclaim their land. Living as squatters, their temporary shelters are constantly under threat from floods caused by dam overspill from the Tana River during heavy rainfall upstream. The same community then suffers severely during prolonged droughts, losing livestock and grappling with disease and hunger.
Climate change has intensified these cycles of hardship. Kenya has seen increasingly erratic rainfall patterns in the past two decades. The 2020–2023 drought, the worst in 40 years, left over 4.4 million people in Kenya food insecure, according to the United Nations. Simultaneously, flooding from unusually heavy rains in 2024 displaced thousands more, further stressing fragile communities like Koreni.
International donors have made efforts to install clean water infrastructure and support tree nursery projects aimed at conservation. Yet as Mzee Alhaman notes, they cannot fully engage in climate action like tree planting until land ownership is resolved. “We want to plant trees, but how can we plant on land that is not legally ours?” he asks.
Conflict and climate change are intricately linked. Insecurity halts conservation efforts, displaces communities, and accelerates environmental degradation. Without peace, meaningful action against the climate crisis becomes nearly impossible. As the world grapples with political tension, it must also prioritize the overlooked casualty of war—the planet itself.
