In our most read post of the month, Adilsonio da Costa outlines the environmental and livelihood risks Timor-Leste citizens face if the government and proponents of a petroleum infrastructure project do not implement environmental protections and follow Timor-Leste’s environmental laws, and dismiss affected communities while continuing to build the project.

Usually after dinner, Mr. Ma would take off his shirt, shut the door, and begin work making plastic pellets from scrap. But tonight, he sits in his darkened yard staring at two SUV-sized plastic processing machines and a bundle of colorful scrap plastic. No lights are on, no machines grind, and no familiar theme song of CCTV-1 plays in the background. Walking through other villages in Wen’an County, more men meander around their yards filled with the same idle processing machines and mini-mountains of scrap plastic. Most have never studied English, but they are fluent in the language of plastics, sprinkling words like ABS, PP, and PVC into their conversations. They are the owners of small plastic scrap recycling workshops that were once booming—but are now silent.

Recognizing the need to address environmental challenges in the wake of war and disaster, American University’s School of International Service and World Wildlife Fund (WWF) joined together to launch the project “Environmental Dimensions of Sustainable Recovery: Learning from Post-Conflict and Disaster Response Experience.” As representatives of a leading conservation NGO (World Wildlife Fund) and a professional graduate school with extensive expertise in environment, development, and conflict resolution (American University’s School of International Service), Anita van Breda and Ken Conca’s partnership helped to conduct a truly cross-organizational, cross-perspective exchange and familiarized them with the challenges and opportunities that occur when working across sectors and organizational cultures.

As an inhabitant of the Himalayan region of Nepal, where 8 of the 10 highest peaks of the world are situated, I am experiencing first hand several environmental stresses and insecurities. Many of the high mountains I can see from my village, once covered in snow, are turning black. Neighboring areas are experiencing massive out-migration and demographic changes. Consequently, agriculture in the region is facing an unprecedented crisis.

Late last year, Reuters reported that the U.S. Defense Department plans to fund mining and processing operations for rare earth elements—a class of minerals for which China dominates the global market, producing over 80 percent of the world’s supply. In the past, China has restricted exports of rare earths, and recently threatened to do so again. Even with a phase one trade deal hammered out between the United States and China, natural resources are likely to remain a point of geopolitical tension.

At the September 2019 United Nations General Assembly (UNGA) Climate Summit, the U.S. delegation, under the shadow of intended withdrawal from Paris, did not volunteer a speaker. Attention instead focused on China. As the world’s largest carbon emitter, China was poised to assert leadership on the climate crisis.  However, perhaps lacking the sibling rivalry pressure that brought the U.S. and China together in 2014 on a joint climate agreement, State Councilor and Foreign Minister Wang Yi offered no new commitments: no carbon tax, no increased investment in renewables, and no announcement to set a more ambitious coal consumption cap.

Environmental peacebuilding is a good idea. As a practice, it aims to address simultaneously environmental problems and challenges related to violent conflict. Examples include the promotion of environmental cooperation between rival states, conflict-sensitive adaptation to climate change, and restoring access to land and water in post-conflict societies. As a concept, environmental peacebuilding directs researchers’ and politicians’ attention to cooperative adaptation as a response to environmental stress. It thus helps to correct one-sided narratives about environment-conflict links.

In the Global South, climate change-induced resettlement requires a holistic and integrated approach, involving all stakeholders—state institutions, local customary and civil society institutions—and in particular respectful engagement with local traditional actors and networks. In a policy brief for the Toda Peace Institute, we examined climate change-induced resettlement from the Carteret Islands in the Pacific, a case which encompasses a broad range of issues relevant to future relocation efforts elsewhere. Those who seek to make this type of resettlement possible would do well to heed these lessons.