When catastrophic floods struck civil war-ridden Libya in the late summer of 2023, the catastrophe caused over 10,000 deaths and wreaked immense destruction throughout the nation’s northeastern regions. But because none of the warring factions were in full control of the country and international responders were concerned about being caught in the crossfire, relief efforts were delayed and limited. This confluence of factors amplified human suffering, particularly in Libya’s remote and worst-affected areas.

Yet disasters striking armed conflict zones are by no means a rare phenomenon. In 2023, an earthquake hit Syria, and cyclone Doksuri struck the Philippines. Nigeria saw floods in 2022, and recent droughts have plagued Somalia, to name just a few other recent examples. Experts have long warned that countries with a history of large-scale violence are more vulnerable to—and hence more likely to suffer from—such disasters.

These vulnerabilities arise because fighting destroys vital infrastructure in these countries. Planning for disasters is complicated in any instance, and much more so in zones of conflict— and external actors can provide only limited support. Unmitigated climate change, rapid urbanization, and widespread geopolitical instability will likely amplify these trends in the future.

In spite of the urgency of these challenges, research has paid scarce attention to what happens when disaster strikes armed conflict zones. It is a knowledge gap that I sought to address in my new book, Catastrophes, Confrontations, and Constraints: How Disasters Shape the Dynamics of Armed Conflicts (MIT Press). The book provides new insights into 36 cases of disasters occurring in conflict zones, spread across 21 countries in Africa, Asia, Latin America, and the Middle East. The breadth and depth of the study offer new ways to look at this difficult convergence of disaster and conflict across regions and political boundaries.

A Peace Dividend in Disaster?

Do disasters facilitate the de-escalation of civil wars and provide temporary opportunities for peace? It is a rarely considered argument, but there is evidence that it does occur in some cases.

After the 2005 earthquake in Kashmir, for instance, a number of factors converged to do so. The destruction of rebel camps, as well as a requirement to participate in local relief efforts and close scrutiny by international media, caused separatist insurgents to reduce their fighting against the Indian government. Likewise, the 1997 floods in Somalia made it hard for civil war parties to move and deploy their troops—or to extract funds from the local economy. Therefore, warring groups had to scale down their military efforts.

Such dynamics were present in 25% of all cases analyzed in the book. They normally occur when disaster impedes the fighting capacities of one or both civil war parties in a highly vulnerable region. While such disaster-related conflict de-escalation usually only persisted for a few months, it holds a promise of catalyzing a successful peace process—as it did in Aceh (Indonesia) after the 2004 tsunami.

This finding challenges an environmental security debate that only considers two possible reactions to environmental stress: business as usual (no change) or more violence.

Capitalizing on Catastrophe

My research also discovered that precisely the opposite was true in 25% of cases: disaster contributes to higher armed conflict intensity.

Usually, this happens when the rebels try to capitalize on the disaster-related weaknesses in government forces. After the 1999 Armenia earthquake in Colombia, for instance, the government had to deploy 6,000 security forces to the disaster response. A rapid decline in GDP also forced the Colombian government to scale down its “winning hearts and minds” programs in contested areas. These developments provided welcome opportunities for Colombia’s FARC rebels to extend their activities.

In another instance, floods in Assam also allowed local insurgent groups to recruit deprived or aggrieved survivors for their struggle against the Indian government. Yet state forces can also benefit from disaster-related opportunities, as when the Nigerian military extended its operations in 2022 after a flooding of Boko Haram strongholds.

This particular finding holds important lessons for debates around climate security. Policymakers are increasingly concerned that climate change will increase political instability by causing more disasters. The UN Security Council has discussed such a climate-disaster-conflict nexus various times, most recently in February 2023. In academia, the relevance of drought as a cause of the Syrian civil war has sparked controversial debates. The finding that disasters frequently increase armed conflict intensity confirms that, in certain contexts, climate change does act as a threat multiplier.

Applying the Lessons

Despite these cases in which factors converge for peace or increased conflict, my research concludes that neither climate change nor disasters have a deterministic impact on conflict risks. In half of all cases I analyze, disasters do not influence armed conflict dynamics at all. Sometimes, this happens because the disaster occurs far away from the main fighting zone or from the power base of the conflicting parties. More often, wider political and economic developments are more relevant drivers of armed conflict dynamics.

Taken together, however, these findings do not just matter for the “academic ivory tower.” They have very practical implications for anyone working in conflict zones as well.

When a disaster hits a vulnerable area and provides one conflict party with advantages over (and relative to) the other side, for instance, fighting is likely to escalate. This means that relief providers—including international organizations, foreign governments, and NGOs—need to be careful about avoiding the crossfire when sending personnel (or even goods). Informal, pre-negotiated agreements with the conflicting parties might be necessary to ensure staff safety.

By contrast, if disasters impede the logistics and capacities of armed conflict parties, the associated reduction in fighting intensity might provide opportunities for diplomacy. National and international public scrutiny also creates incentives for armed actors to hold back and allow aid delivery.

One notable feature of the research in my book is the breadth of the conclusions that can be drawn from analyzing numerous cases across regions. The number of cases (36) that I studied allowed me to compare a number of different countries, disasters, and conflict types, thus reducing the risk that the findings only apply to particular contexts. The depth of the rich qualitative information I gathered also allowed me to avoid incorrect inferences. In around one-third of all cases, for instance, statistical data on battle-related deaths provided a misleading picture of the disaster-conflict-nexus on the ground.

The integration of various data types in my research also offers a fuller picture of the disaster/conflict nexus. This is important because to fully understand the impact of disasters on conflict intensity, we need to combine multiple strands of information: poverty levels, the amount of inflowing aid, local grievances, and rebels’ support networks.

Only by crossing the boundaries between policy and research, as well as between different methods and theoretical approaches, can one fully understand and respond to the significant and intertwined challenges of disasters and armed conflict.