The Amazon Rainforest generates its own weather. Each day, the forest’s 390 billion trees release approximately 20 billion metric tons of water vapor into the atmosphere through evapotranspiration, creating what Brazilian scientists call rios voadores — flying rivers. These aerial currents of moisture flow westward from the Atlantic, recirculating water from the forest canopy before turning south to deliver rainfall across South America’s agricultural heartlands. But the mechanism is breaking down. Since the 1970s, Brazil has cleared 88 million hectares (217 million acres) of Amazon forest, most converted into low-productivity pastures, with around 45 million hectares (111 million acres) considered severely or moderately degraded. The consequences extend beyond biodiversity loss, carbon emissions and social disruption: deforestation threatens the continent’s productive capacity and the economic livelihoods of hundreds of millions of people. Droughts in 2023 and 2024 affected more than 50 million hectares (124 million acres) of forest, and scientists warn that continued deforestation could push the system past a tipping point where the Amazon can no longer sustain its rainfall regime. Yet hidden within this environmental crisis lies an economic opportunity. Brazil’s Forest Code, revised in 2012, requires private properties in the country’s Amazonian region to maintain native vegetation on 80% of their landholding as a “legal reserve” (reserva legal). Properties that clear forest beyond the 80% threshold carry a “forest debt” with a legal obligation to restore equivalent forest cover. Analysis using Brazil’s Rural Environmental Registry (CAR) indicates about 280,000 properties are noncompliant, with a collective deficit of 10…This article was originally published on Mongabay

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The deep, dark forests of northern Europe supplied people with wood, timber and food for millennia. They gave rise to myths, legends and fairy tales, and offered refuge to the persecuted. Over time, though, the forests themselves became subjugated, forced to submit to the will of humankind as forestry turned into a mighty machinery. Sweden is one of the world’s largest exporters of forest-based products: paper, timber, cardboard and biofuels travel across the globe, ending up in your packaging, your books, in your homes. Decisions made in Sweden about how forests are managed ripple outward far beyond the kingdom’s borders. That is why the Swedish government’s recent forestry inquiry should matter not just to those living in Sweden, but to anyone concerned about the global climate crisis. The inquiry’s central message is clear: increase forest growth, harvest more biomass, and thereby contribute to the green transition. This might sound promising. More trees mean more carbon absorbed, more wood products to replace unsustainable products. But the plan overlooks the most important part of the forest: the soil. Sweden’s oldest boreal forests are carpeted with berries and lichens, which reindeer rely on for winter forage. Photo courtesy of Staffan Widstrand. Most of the carbon in a forest is not in the trees we see, but locked into the ground, in roots, humus, fungi, microbes, and the intricate networks of life below. When forestry is intensified — through shorter rotation times, clear-cutting, heavy machines compacting the earth, and the removal of branches and…This article was originally published on Mongabay

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A landmark global treaty to curb billions of dollars in government subsidies for overfishing took effect on Sept. 15, Mongabay contributor Elizabeth Fitt reported. The agreement marks the first time the World Trade Organization (WTO) has approved an environmental sustainability agreement in its 30-year history. The deal came into effect after Brazil, Kenya, Tonga and Vietnam ratified it, bringing the total number of accepting countries to 111, the two-thirds majority needed among the WTO’s 166 members. Governments worldwide channel an estimated $35 billion toward the fishing sector, but a 2019 study showed that $22 billion of that, or 63%, supports harmful practices. The treaty, known as Fish One, bans subsidies for illegal, unreported and unregulated (IUU) fishing as well as fishing of already overfished stocks. It also prohibits subsidies for fishing in international waters, also known as the high seas. “There are weaknesses and gaps, and there’s still work to be done, but this is the start of the WTO trying to have a positive impact on environmental sustainability,” Daniel Skerritt, senior analyst at the U.S. marine conservation nonprofit Oceana, told Fitt. Fish Two, the more challenging second part of the treaty, remains under negotiation with another four years to reach an agreement. The treaty was split into two after countries stalled over disagreements on subsidies that expand fishing fleets, which could eventually lead to overfishing. Representatives from Kenya, Brazil, Vietnam and Tonga after submitting their instruments of acceptance on Sept. 15 at a WTO meeting in Geneva. Image courtesy…This article was originally published on Mongabay

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For more than three decades Nigel Sizer has orbited the front lines of environmental policy. His résumé spans forest conservation in Amazonia, the launch of Global Forest Watch at the World Resources Institute, and campaigns on human rights, climate change, and even pandemic preparedness. The arc of that career has led him to an unglamorous but decisive arena: what the world eats. “While our food system is a major driver of many crises, it also has huge potential to be part of the solution,” he says. The way meat is produced touches national security, biodiversity, public health, and the climate all at once. Sizer has just taken the helm at the Good Food Institute (GFI), a nonprofit dedicated to speeding the shift from conventional animal protein to plant-based, fermentation-enabled, and cultivated meat. He sees the role as “a chance to work at the root-cause level of the exact challenges I’ve spent my life tackling.” If alternative proteins become mainstream, he argues, they can relieve pressure on forests, protect wildlife, cut greenhouse gas emissions, and improve resilience to global health shocks. His past posts have prepared him for a job built on coalition building. Whether designing satellite-driven tools to monitor forests or mobilizing resources for restoration, Sizer has specialized in convening disparate actors around common goals. GFI’s work, he notes, will require the same skills: international collaboration, new partnerships, and a diversity of approaches across regions to transform how the world produces protein. “Scaling impact and unlocking critical resources,” he says,…This article was originally published on Mongabay

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Josep “Pep” Canadell, executive director of the Global Carbon Project, says he believes countries large and small need to think twice before pledging to collectively plant billions of trees as a primary emissions-reduction strategy to meet climate action goals. “We have somehow sold reforestation as a kind of easier path [to fighting climate change], and it’s not easy at all,” Canadell told Mongabay. “In my view, it’s not even easier than carbon capture and storage, a technology we’re still developing. That’s because when you bring humans into landscapes and try managing landscapes where people live, all of a sudden, this stuff becomes very complex.” Canadell is the co-author of a new study in Science that found, among other things, that the amount of land deemed suitable for newly planted and restored forests — an area roughly the size of India — quickly shrinks by as much as two-thirds when taking into account adverse impacts on biodiversity, food security and water resources. The study used new modeling tools to create global maps of soil carbon change that show carbon gains and losses, especially in topsoil. Researchers mapped the global carbon sequestration rates after forestation based on existing tree-planting pledges, then compared that with the realistic limits of those pledges. They also sorted through permanent land use changes after deforestation — for agriculture and ranching, for example — and recognized that ever returning those lands to forests was highly unlikely. In real terms, the study found that the potential to store an…This article was originally published on Mongabay

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Alberto Franco* has long lost count of how many times he has had to hide in the forest until the gunfire dies down. The southern Colombian forest where he grew up has been a battlefield for decades. Over the last few years, armed groups have robbed his people of their freedom. Franco was born in the upper part of Buenavista, in Putumayo, an Indigenous reserve that was formalized in 1983 and is referred to as the ‘ancient root.’ It is a community founded by seven families led by Arsenio Yaiguaje, a visionary taita (elder). Franco is the son of a Mestizo father and a Siona mother and found himself growing up between two worlds, though he ultimately chose his mother’s. His true schooling, however, was from his grandparents and the use of yagé (ayahuasca). In 2008, he became a governor and later went on to coordinate the Indigenous guard. The Siona have ancestrally been the guardians of their territory. They have protected the river with the boa, the earth with the tiger, and the sky with the eagle, according to their spiritual history. However, in 2014, when the Colombian oil company Amerisur attempted to enter their communities, they discovered that spiritual defense alone was insufficient. That was when they decided to formalize the Indigenous guard, the same group they had tried to organize seven or eight years prior, despite many setbacks. The Buenavista Indigenous Guard employs spiritual, political, and educational approaches that involve men, women and children. Image courtesy of…This article was originally published on Mongabay

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