The Lanjiang river in Eastern Zhejiang, China, reached its peak water level of 100 feet the night of June 25, 2017. Lanxi residents remember this day as “6.25,” marking the worst flood since 1955. Elsewhere in China that month, 7.3 million people were affected by floods, landslides, and heavy rains in northwestern Sichuan Province alone. Northern Guangxi suffered direct economic losses of 2.9 billion RMB (US$460 million). In the autonomous regions, 92,000 people were relocated. Flash floods caused the deaths of 10 people and forced 76,800 people to evacuate from Shanxi Province.

In late 2017, I visited the several Rohingya refugee camps (Leda, Mainner Ghona, & Kutupalong-Balukhali Makeshift Settlements) in Ukhia Upazila (Cox’s Bazar District), Bangladesh. These camps are home to more than a million refugees escaping ethnic violence in Myanmar.

Natural bioshields—wetlands, forests, and urban green spaces—are critical tools for reducing the impacts of disasters on vulnerable communities. Between 1994 and 2014, nearly 7,000 natural disasters occurred worldwide, causing an average of almost 68,000 deaths each year. Climate change, growing populations, and widening economic inequality are all expected to increase the impacts of disasters. Bioshields—nature’s own solutions to natural hazards—can help protect people from these dangerous floods, storms, and heat waves.

In 2014, we met with some of the technical leads of a major Chinese river basin authority in Beijing and asked them whether they were more worried about pollution or climate change impacts. Both, the engineers replied. Pollution affects us every day, they said, but changes in the climate erode our ability to supply drinking and irrigation water, manage floods, and generate electricity.

China must address its environmental and climate change challenges, such as reducing water pollution and building resilience to droughts, floods, and long-term climate shifts. But existing sources of finance have not met the growing demand for environmental projects.

“Resilience isn’t an outcome,” said USAID Resilience Coordinator Greg Collins at a recent Wilson Center event on measuring resilience; it is “the ability to manage adversity and change without compromising future well-being.” The wide array of individual factors that contribute to building resilience—ranging from livestock insurance and microsavings, to risk tolerance and women’s decision-making—can be challenging to measure individually, let alone in concert. But this assessment is essential for designing and implementing successful development projects: “We have to be able to answer the question: Is this building resilience, yes or no?” said Cornell University’s Chris Barrett.

Without warning, water rushed into a woman’s home on a raised platform above the floodplain of Bangladesh’s Teesta River. She was just a hand’s distance from her infant son, but she couldn’t stop him from falling into the floodwaters. “She can’t recover back from the trauma,” said the University of Dundee’s Nandan Mukerjee of the mother who lost her child to the currents of climate change.

The summer of 2017 was a stark reminder that climate change exacerbates both the intensity and frequency of natural disasters—and that the most vulnerable people are most severely affected. A recent study shows that from 2004-2014, 58 percent of disaster deaths and 34 percent of people affected by disasters were in the most fragile countries, as measured by the Fragile States Index. Disasters in these countries receive considerably less media coverage than the recent hurricanes that hit the United States. This lack of attention also leads many policymakers to overlook a possible opportunity: By working together to reduce fragility and vulnerability, could we not only better prepare for disaster, but also help prevent conflict? We have the policy tools to take an integrated approach to climate, conflict, and disaster—but we need the political will to use them.

As the Climate Conference of Parties (COP-23) wraps up in Bonn, Germany, the prime minister of the tiny Pacific island nation of Tuvalu, which is sinking a few millimeters every year, made an impassioned call for transparency in the Paris Agreement “rule book” and for ratcheting up worldwide ambitions to reduce climate change.  While informal texts were drafted to guide implementation of the historic 2015 Paris Agreement, formal adoption of these rules will have to wait until COP-24, to be held in Poland next year.