The plant Opuntia stricta, known as prickly pear, has represented losses for livestock farmers in the arid and semi-arid regions of Kenya for decades. The British brought this invasive species to the colony during the colonial era as a decorative hedge, and it began to spread rapidly, displacing local vegetation, degrading pastures, and threatening the livelihoods of thousands of families dependent on livestock.
Despite its vibrant appearance, the fruits of the prickly pear are one of the most destructive invasive species in Kenya. Wild animals such as elephants, giraffes, and goats feed on these fruits, unintentionally dispersing thousands of seeds through their excrement. When the rains come, the seeds germinate quickly, allowing the cactus to occupy more and more territory at an astonishing rate.
Sharon Bundi from the Laikipia Permaculture Centre notes that 'the germination rate is extremely high,' and after the rains begin, the seeds establish very quickly, making the plant extremely difficult to control. Furthermore, the cactus accumulates a large amount of water, allowing it to survive long dry periods, competing with other plants for limited moisture and nutrients in the soil.
For pastoralist communities, every new patch of cactus means a loss of pasture. Dense, thorny thickets replace nutritious grass, forcing herders to travel further in search of feed. However, the greatest danger often comes from tiny, hair-like spines called glochids found inside the fruit. These glochids get stuck in the mouths and digestive systems of livestock, causing painful ulcers, infections, malnutrition, and, in severe cases, death, leading to the gradual destruction of family livelihoods.
Goats are particularly vulnerable because they greedily eat the fruits despite the danger. Bundi explains that 'when goats eat the fruits, their mouth becomes painful and swollen. Eventually, they cannot feed normally because both their mouth and stomach are affected.' For families whose lives revolve around livestock, the loss of even a few animals can mean the loss of food, income, and financial stability.
Japan Saruni, a herder from Koiji, personally witnessed this devastation. He reported that the invasive prickly pear took much of his livestock, leaving the family with significant financial losses. According to Saruni, many animals are injured trying to eat the cactus fruits; the tiny spines penetrate their mouths, making every bite painful. Others suffer serious eye injuries while trying to reach the fruits among the thorny leaves, and some eventually lose their sight.
Instead of viewing the cactus solely as a problem, the Laikipia Permaculture Centre (LPC) applied a circular economy approach, ensuring that every part of the plant is used for productive purposes. The fruits are processed into prickly pear juice, jam, and wine, developed in collaboration with the University of Nairobi. The seeds undergo cold pressing to yield premium cosmetic oil, and the remaining seed pulp is used as nutritious feed for livestock. The fruit peels are dried into a natural dye powder, and the cactus leaves are fed into biodigesters to produce methane for cooking.
The residual nutrient-rich slurry is applied as organic fertilizer to kitchen gardens, improving soil fertility and household food production. Bundi emphasizes: 'Essentially, we don't throw anything away from the cactus. Every part of the plant has value.' To ensure product safety, the centre collaborates closely with the Kenya Bureau of Standards and research institutions to guarantee that all products meet national quality standards.
In addition to producing value-added products, this initiative creates new economic opportunities for communities that traditionally relied almost entirely on animal husbandry. Residents now earn money by harvesting cactus fruits, supplying raw materials, and participating in processing and value addition. The long-term goal is to establish community-owned processing centers, allowing local residents to retain most of the profits.
Bundi explains that 'if income only comes from livestock, communities become very vulnerable during droughts. By creating enterprises around cactus, honey, aloe, and other natural resources, families have multiple ways to earn a living.' The project also works with communities on mechanically removing the cactus while simultaneously introducing biological control using cochineal insects, which naturally weaken the invasive plant. After clearing, the degraded land is sown with pasture grasses, moringa, and *Aloe secundiflora*. Aloe is processed into soap, lotions, and cosmetic products, while moringa provides both nutritional and commercial value. These efforts together restore ecosystems and create additional sources of income.
The environmental benefits of the project extend beyond combating the cactus. Biogas reduces reliance on firewood, organic fertilizer improves soil health, and restored vegetation reduces erosion, enhances water retention, and promotes livestock health. Although Opuntia stricta remains difficult to eradicate due to its easy regenerative capacity and continued spread via wild animals, the Laikipia Permaculture Centre demonstrates that environmental problems can become economic opportunities.
By combining ecological restoration, renewable energy, scientific innovation, and community entrepreneurship, this initiative offers a practical model for enhancing climate change resilience in Kenya's arid regions and beyond. For years, Opuntia stricta symbolized loss: lost pastures, dying livestock, shrinking incomes, and degrading landscapes. Today, thanks to the innovations of the Laikipia Permaculture Centre and the determination of local communities, the same cactus produces juice, jam, cosmetic oil, livestock feed, renewable energy, organic fertilizer, and new sources of livelihood. Bundi concludes: 'What was once a thorn in the side of pastoralist communities is becoming a symbol of resilience and innovation.' In Kenya's arid regions, communities are proving that when life gives you a cactus, it can be much more than just an invasive plant: it can be hope.
For the fourth consecutive year, Indian Grey Hornbills have successfully reproduced in the Gir landscape located in Gujarat. This success signifies more than just the return of a single bird.
The species disappeared from Gir sometime between the 1950s and 1960s. Thanks to a carefully planned reintroduction program, the hornbills have begun nesting, raising chicks, and establishing territories again. Approximately 40 individuals were released between 2021 and 2023, and scientists note that the population shows signs of self-sustainability.
For nature conservation specialists, this is a cause for joy. For everyone else, it is a reminder that some bird species serve as indicators of the health of an entire forest mass, and the hornbills are such examples.
Unlike many bird species capable of adapting to fragmented landscapes, hornbills are highly selective in their habitat choice. They require mature forests with large native trees, tree cavities sufficient for nesting, and fruiting trees that provide food throughout different seasons. It is critically important that the forests remain extensively connected.
Without any of these elements, it is difficult for hornbills to survive, which is why scientists call them indicator species. Their presence signals to researchers that the forest maintains the necessary structure, diversity, and ecological balance to support a wide range of wildlife. The success of the reintroduction in Gir was achieved not only through the release of birds but also through years of habitat restoration, protection, and monitoring efforts that allowed the landscape to become suitable for them again.
Hornbills are sometimes called the 'farmers of the forest,' and this title is well-deserved. Most hornbill species feed on fruits, especially figs, berries, and other large forest fruits. Many of these seeds are too large to be dispersed by small birds. After feeding, they can fly several kilometers before dropping or regurgitating the seeds. The seeds land far from the parent tree, which reduces competition and gives new seedlings a better chance of growing. Over time, this contributes to the natural regeneration of forests.
Researchers in the Western Ghats of India and the northeastern region have shown that hornbills are among the most important long-distance seed dispersers in tropical forests; without them, many local tree species would struggle to spread.
Hornbills possess one of the most remarkable nesting strategies in the world of birds. When the mating season begins, the female enters a cavity in a large tree trunk. The pair seals the entrance with mud, fruit pulp, and excrement, leaving only a narrow slit. The female remains inside for several weeks. The male becomes the sole provider for the family, delivering fruits and food daily through the tiny opening until the chicks are old enough.
This is an exceptional survival strategy, but it has one condition: the tree must remain alive. If the old nesting tree is cut down, the entire breeding season can be lost. This is another reason why hornbills are so dependent on ancient forests filled with mature trees that have developed natural cavities over decades.
When restoring forests, the main focus is usually on young saplings. However, old trees are indispensable for hornbills. Large trees provide nesting cavities, shade, food, and shelter for countless birds, mammals, reptiles, and insects. Many of these cavities form naturally only after decades of growth. Once these giants disappear, they cannot be replaced overnight. The return of hornbills to Gir indicates that there are now enough of these ecological building blocks for the birds to reproduce successfully again. This is encouraging not only for the hornbills but also for many other forest species inhabiting the same environment.
The program in Gir was not only aimed at releasing birds. Forestry staff monitored their movements, restored suitable habitats, and controlled reproductive success, involving local communities in landscape protection. Recent data shows that the birds have settled in the landscape and are reproducing like a wild population. This is a significant change. Wildlife conservation is measured by counting individual animals, but true success occurs when these animals begin to reproduce independently and no longer depend on constant human intervention. It appears this is happening in Gir.
India is home to nine species of hornbills, ranging from the Indian Grey Hornbill found on the plains to the impressive Great Hornbill of the Western Ghats and the northeast. Many face increasing pressure due to habitat loss, the disappearance of old nesting trees, and forest fragmentation. Their future depends on something extraordinarily simple: protecting large forests, protecting old trees, and maintaining the natural connections that allow wildlife to move freely.
When hornbills disappear, the forests lose one of their greatest gardeners. When they return, they bring much more than their characteristic calls. They transport seeds across the landscape, helping forests regenerate. They remind us that healthy ecosystems develop slowly, over decades, through the relationships between trees, birds, and countless other species that depend on them. This is why the recent reproductive success in Gir means more than just the return of a bird after 60 years; it is a sign that when forests are given a chance to recover, nature knows how to heal itself.
The Iranian Ministry issued a statement appealing to residents to turn off air conditioners during peak hours. This measure is aimed at ensuring stable electricity supply in the southern provinces, which are currently suffering from severe heat and attacks by the United States on power plants.
The United States conducted bombings of Iran again last night. Tehran accused Washington of causing casualties during attacks on civilian infrastructure. Other US allies in the Middle East also reported being targeted by attacks, including one power plant, marking a further escalation of the conflict.
US military representatives stated that early in the morning they attacked 'dozens of Iranian military targets,' including coast guard and air defense facilities, military logistics infrastructure, and maritime objects.
Iranian authorities reported damage to the country's electrical grid in the south, prompting the appeal to the public to reduce energy consumption. Furthermore, Tehran reported bombings of bridges, ports, airports, telecommunications infrastructure, and a railway station. The official news agency IRNA registered eight deaths and 20 injuries.
Every architectural project uses materials that, in their origin, are extracted from distant locations, such as sand, stone, or lithium. These inputs arrive at their destination after a complex logistical process involving transport and customs clearance, which completely obscures their original provenance. Although architecture treats these materials as readily available, it is at the moment of extraction that the construction process truly begins.
The world trade in construction sand operates on a scale comparable to the illicit markets for wood, gold, and fish combined, utilizing violent networks that endanger the lives of journalists and activists. In one example from Tuscany, a single mountain produced more marble recently than in the previous two thousand years, exploited by a workforce whose history of resistance has been widely ignored.
In salt flats across three South American countries and in the copper belt of Central Africa, minerals destined for a more sustainable future are removed from lands inhabited by indigenous communities for generations, and in some cases, mined by children. Although each transaction is presented as common trade, it also represents a territorial transaction whose terms were defined far from the site of material removal.
The link connecting sand, stone, and critical minerals is not just the distance traveled, but who resided at the extraction site and the minimal decision-making power this population held over the transaction. Examples include a riverside community in Cambodia, a quarry town in the Apuan Alps, and an indigenous family witnessing the drying up of a valley in Argentina. None of these groups participated in signing the contract that determined the fate of their lands.
Understanding a marble facade or a battery pack merely by its finish implies accepting a depoliticized narrative, ignoring that all phases of the process involve who controls the land and who is forced to abandon it.
Globally, annual sand consumption reaches fifty billion tons, classifying it as the planet's largest extractive industry, with a projected growth of up to 45% by 2060. However, civil construction requires angular and coarse sand transported by rivers and coasts, unlike desert sand, which is not suitable for binding concrete. This need forces the industry to extract the material from other locations, creating a contradiction between abundance and scarcity.
A specialist from the Federal Police in Brazil, focusing on extractive industries, estimates that the global illegal trade in sand moves between two hundred and thirty-five billion dollars annually, surpassing the sum of illegal wood extraction, gold mining, and fishing. Despite this, sand receives little scrutiny because it is viewed as a common resource, and legal and black market material are indistinguishable on the construction site. In India, illegal sand mining has become the largest organized crime activity, resulting in hundreds of deaths, and in 2019, a journalist was murdered for exposing corruption linked to this practice.
The dynamic between suppliers and consumers carries a strong political charge. In Southeast Asia, there was a dispute between Singapore, the importer, and Malaysia, which restricted exports. The demand for maritime landfills in Singapore led to illegal sand dredging in Cambodia and Indonesia, causing the territorial expansion of one country to occur at the expense of another's decline.
In the Mekong River basin, sand extraction is intense in Cambodia and Vietnam, driven by real estate growth, affecting the six riparian nations that have little decision-making power over a trade shaped by geopolitical rivalry and domestic demand. Singapore's reclaimed coast is, therefore, transferred geology, built from the margin of another country.
An independent ecologist studying the Mekong Delta points out that legislation classifies sand merely as a common material, ignoring its structural role in maintaining territory. Continuous extraction can force the redrawing of the delta map due to coastal erosion and riverbank deformation.
In extraction areas, populations suffer from forced displacement due to bank erosion and housing collapse. Meanwhile, financial profits concentrate in distant urban centers. Furthermore, sand mining reduces the water table, forcing destitute farmers to migrate to cities that depend precisely on the extraction that displaced them, perpetuating a vicious cycle.
More marble has been taken from Carrara in recent decades than in the previous two thousand years, with annual production reaching about four million tons. The Apuan Alps host more than 650 distinct quarries, exceeding the number of active quarries throughout the entire United States, a much larger country than Carrara.
The workforce involved in this extraction has its own political history. In the late 19th century, Carrara was a hub of anarchism in Italy, especially among quarry workers, many of whom were ex-convicts or fugitives. They revolted against working conditions, organizing under anarchist principles (the Lunigiana revolt). The Italian state severely repressed the uprising, leading many workers to emigrate to the United States, where they found employment in marble and granite quarries in Vermont.
This connection persisted: two Carrara companies, R.E.D. Graniti and Mazzucchelli Marmi, currently operate the Danby quarry in Vermont, the world's largest underground marble quarry. The marble does not stay in Carrara, and the former extractors never had lasting rights over what they took. Large blocks are exported, where cheaper labor manufactures luxury cladding and furniture. Thus, the city lost much of its artisanal industry.
China has become a major buyer of raw blocks, absorbing more than half of certain exports, while the United States remains the main market for finished slabs and pieces. A material formed by the compression of a mountain range travels twice through global supply chains before reaching a kitchen, proving that the value of marble resides not only in the stone but in the geography it crosses.
The extraction process generates dust that contaminates regional aquifers, rendering water unusable for consumption, and eroded slopes that cause geological instability, increasing the risk of landslides and floods. Such dangers have already caused major displacements, such as a flood in 2014 that required the rescue of four hundred people. Anna Marson, former regional secretary of Tuscany, proposed a stricter environmental regulation plan in 2014 but faced an intense campaign of opposition from quarry owners.
While sand and stone represent ancient forms of extraction, the minerals driving the energy transition mark a more recent and ideologically complex chapter. To meet zero-emission targets, global lithium production must increase more than fivefold by 2030, demanding over one hundred billion dollars in new investments. This forces us to question what the acceptable cost is for the mineral that promises to reduce global emissions.
Argentina, Bolivia, and Chile hold more than half of the known lithium resources, concentrated in high-altitude salt flats. Chile possesses about a quarter of global reserves, much of it in the Atacama Salt Flat, ancestral territory of the Lickanantay people. Extraction involves pumping millennia-old underground brine into evaporation tanks, consuming between 450,000 and 650,000 liters of water per ton of lithium carbonate. In Atacama, miners are accused of depleting up to 65% of the region's vital water sources.
An indigenous activist, who grew up near the oldest lithium mine in Argentina, in the Salar del Hombre Muerto, reported how this depletion affects a family: a river that sustained llamas, goats, and sheep was diverted and dried up due to lithium production, leaving a valley that, according to him, 'was once beautiful' and today 'there are no animals because everything is dry.' Researchers from the University of Chile confirm this degradation through satellite analysis.
