The original version of this article first appeared on The Globalist.

Haze may be the new weapon of mass destruction. Not in the narrow sense of an incoming ballistic missile, of course, but for millions in Southeast Asia, this summer’s sooty haze poses a threat more dire than a nuclear-tipped missile.

For a country that once made headlines for famine, poverty, and war, Ethiopia is gaining a reputation as a development leader on the African continent. In just over 10 years, the country has slashed child mortality rates by half, rising in global rank from 146 in 2000 to 68 in 2012. More money is being spent on health care, poverty levels and fertility rates are down, and twice as many children are in school.

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.

The original version of this article, by Susan Moran, appeared on Ensia.

Lean and towering at 6 feet 5 inches, Ken Giller blends right into the rows of climbing beanstalks he is examining on this blisteringly hot spring day in Buhoro, a village in northern Rwanda. Local farmers who have been growing various varieties of beans bred for high yields and other desirable traits proudly show him their plots on the terraced hillside.

Since 2008 – a year in which rapid increases in the global prices for major grains helped to trigger outbreaks of civil unrest in more than 40 countries – scholars and policymakers have paid increased attention to the potential influence of global food prices on social and political instability. Since that time, spiking prices have periodically sparked public protests and governments have struggled to respond.