The people of northern Kenya currently face many daily hardships. Primarily pastoralists by livelihood, their cycle of life focuses on the basics – securing food and water for family and livestock, constructing shelter from the unforgiving sun, and finding sustenance when periodic droughts ravage the region. A 2011 drought affected millions of people, and tens of thousands of livestock died. Approximately 90 percent of the area’s population lives below the poverty line.

The original version of this article appeared on the Environment, Conflict, and Cooperation (ECC) Platform.

The Environment, Conflict, and Cooperation team talked to Eileen Hofstetter from the Swiss Agency for Development and Cooperation. She is co-author of the Inventory of Shared Water Resources in Western Asia released at this year’s World Water Week in Stockholm. The Inventory was prepared by the United Nations Economic and Social Commission for Western Asia and the German Federal Institute for Geosciences and Natural Resources.

There’s a popular saying in Afghanistan reflecting the value of water: “Let Kabul be without gold, but not without snow.”

Living in a refugee camp across the border in Pakistan during the Soviet occupation, my father, who worked as a doctor in Samangan, Bamyan, Kunar, and Balkh provinces, used to tell me about the importance of our country’s natural wealth. He was optimistic that it was Afghanistan’s land, water, forests, and minerals that would help the country re-emerge as a strong nation. However, he also knew that the mismanagement of our natural resources is partly to blame for the instability, insecurity, and vulnerability that have gripped our country for so many years. This is the paradox of the natural resource wealth in Afghanistan.

In August, Solomon Hsiang, Marshall Burke, and Edward Miguel published a provocative piece in Science in which they sought to demonstrate a correlation between climate extremes and violence across a range of time periods, countries, and different levels of conflict. It’s a massive undertaking and one that predictably has evoked some criticism – some of it warranted.

I remember the first moment when my interest in national security came crashing into ecological reality. I was on a U.S. government trip to Central Asia to inspect uranium mines in the newly-independent states of the former Soviet Union. The Cold War security imperative to achieve nuclear superiority had done a number on the environment there: Uranium was leached from the ground with sulfuric acid, transformed into a uranium oxide powder called yellowcake, and shipped off to be enriched for nuclear reactor fuel or weapons. The generals in Moscow who issued these orders did not see the collateral damage that their idea of security wreaked on the environment in Central Asia. In their attempt to out-weaponize the United States, they laid waste to the groundwater, agriculture, and public health of their own citizens.

As President Obama readies a new road map for addressing climate change in the United States, experts warn that poorly designed and implemented initiatives, especially in already-fragile parts of the world, could unintentionally provoke conflicts, rather than diffuse them.

Arrayed along India’s southwest coast is a 1,600-kilometer-long mountain chain with forests older than the Himalayas: the Western Ghats. The mountains are one of the top biodiversity hotspots in the world, and UNESCO recently recognized the region as a World Heritage site. They’re also one of the tensest of India’s emerging battlegrounds between development and conservation and a potential recruiting ground for its Maoist insurgency, called the country’s “greatest threat to internal security.”