Following heavy rains, a landslide occurred at the Moshi landfill in Pune, trapping about 20 people. In 2018, IAS officer Ashish Singh faced a similar problem in Indore: he needed to remove 1.3 million tons of garbage from an area spanning 100 acres.
Accumulated historical waste poses a serious threat to public health, safety, and the environment. In 2018, 1.3 million tons of waste were present at the Devguradia landfill in Indore over an area of 100 acres.
Residents of nearby houses daily faced unbearable odors, smoke from frequent fires, and pollution. Instead of hiring contractors, the Municipal Corporation led this mission independently, renting equipment, setting daily targets, and monitoring every stage of the work.
The team employed bio-mining and bioremediation methods, using biological solutions to treat decades-old waste. Subsequently, heavy machinery separated plastic, metal, textiles, gravel, and soil. The extracted plastic was sent to recycling plants, cement factories, and road projects, while the cleaned land found new uses. By extracting value from the waste, the city managed to ensure that only 15% of the material was sent to the scientific landfill.
This project, which was expected to take years, was completed in just six months, allowing for the removal of 1.3 million tons of garbage and the return of 100 acres of valuable urban land to use. Furthermore, the project cost surprised experts: initial contractor estimates were nearly 65 crore rupees, but Indore completed all the work for less than 10 crore rupees, demonstrating that innovation can save both public funds and the environment.
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.
In the 'Sulaymon Saikal' farm in the Khatirchi district of Navoi region, drones are being used to treat cotton. The country is paying special attention to modernizing agriculture and widely implementing digital technologies and innovative solutions.
Thanks to the reforms led by the President, the use of resource-saving and highly efficient technologies in the agrarian sector is constantly expanding. This contributes to increasing labor productivity and the yield of farms.
In the spring, 22 hectares were sown for this year's cotton harvest at the farm. On 20 hectares, a drought-resistant variety 'XinLuZao-87', adapted to climatic conditions using the Shenzhou technology from China, was planted, and modern agrotechnologies are used for its cultivation.
Currently, specialized drones are being used on these cotton fields for plant fertilization and pest control. The modern unmanned aerial vehicle allows for the spraying of microelements and plant protection products in precise doses and in a short time. This not only improves the quality of agrotechnical measures but also eases human labor.
Farmer Sulaymon Zulfiqorov notes that one of the main advantages of using drones is saving time and resources. This method allows for work to be done significantly faster than traditional equipment, which reduces fuel and labor costs. Furthermore, the effectiveness of pest control increases due to the uniform coverage of the plant leaves both from above and below.
Another important point is that the drones perform treatment without driving into the field rows, thus avoiding damage to the plant rows, as tractors do. This guarantees the preservation of every cotton stalk, increases final yield, and provides economic benefit to the farmer.
The reforms being implemented in the country to develop digital agriculture, apply scientific achievements, and produce innovative technologies demonstrate such practical results. The drone technology being tested in the Khatirchi district is one of the key steps towards transitioning cotton farming to a new stage, increasing labor efficiency, rational resource use, and forming a competitive agriculture.
Of course, the spread of this advanced experience will contribute to the development of the country's agrarian sector based on modern technologies, strengthening food and raw material security, and increasing the effectiveness of the New Uzbekistan reforms.
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.
