By Paul E Hardisty
FIRST Afghanistan, and now Iraq. The next phase in the ‘war against terror’ seems set to visit the Middle East soon. Whatever the political and social justifications (or not) for war, one thing is sure: war causes catastrophic and widespread environmental damage, often bringing misery which far outlasts the shock and destruction of battle itself. And so while world leaders ponder the future, and the balances of power and greed, they should spare a few moments to consider the longer-term implications for the environment that sustains and nourishes us all.
More than a year ago, the American-led coalition joined battle with the Taliban and al Qaeda in Afghanistan, a country already deeply scarred from years of bloody civil war and a protracted conflict with its Soviet invaders. The cost in human lives and suffering has been immense.
But a hidden cost of war now threatens the country and its people. The physical destruction of the natural environment in Afghanistan over the past two decades has been staggering. Carlotta Gall, correspondent for the New York Times in Kabul, calls it the forgotten part of the conflict, which “may prove the most lasting of the disastrous legacies of 23 years of war in Afghanistan”.
Conflict interrupts the normal routine of life, cutting off supplies of water and fuel, driving people from their homes. Refugees are forced to survive by whatever means possible, living off the land, cutting wood for fires and shelter, finding food wherever they can. As social order breaks down, even on a tribal level, criminal interests have free rein to exploit the natural resources of the region, from centuries-old cedars to the pelts of endangered species.
Since 1977, Afghanistan has lost much of its forest cover to illegal logging and the seemingly insatiable hunger for fuel wood and lumber. The huge conifer forests which once covered the northern and eastern regions of the country have been virtually destroyed, leaving bare rocky ground and naked hills.
Great Siberian Cranes stopped migrating through Afghanistan 15 years ago. Flamingos, which once bred in wetlands in the south, have not been seen for four years. Indeed wetlands all over the country have dried up and disappeared, casualties of a protracted drought, the result of the combined forces of deforestation, climate change, and over-exploitation of the remaining water resources.
The combination of drought and deforestation is also fundamentally changing the landscape. Deserts are expanding, their sands advancing into new territory, conquering villages and farmers= fields. Seasonal rains, infrequent though they are, sweep unprotected soil from hillsides, leaving barren rocky slopes. And endangered species, such as the elusive snow leopard, are forced into smaller and smaller areas of remaining habitat, pursued relentlessly by poachers who sell their pelts for a few hundred dollars to tourists in Kabul street markets. So widespread is the environmental damage that the UN has warned that is could threaten the very existence of the Afghan people.
The causal links between war and environmental destruction are not difficult to understand. Fighting a war requires resources on a huge scale. In less-developed nations, from Angola to Iraq, money for weapons and equipment is usually raised through ruthless exploitation of natural resources, from diamonds to oil to lumber. Wartime harvesting of these resources is rarely done carefully, or with any consideration of the long-term environmental impacts involved.
War is by very definition an immediate and short-term state, a struggle for day-to-day survival. When faced with imminent destruction, few thoughts can be spared for laudable but inherently long-term concerns such as environmental sustainability. So nature is harvested as quickly and efficiently as possible, and converted into the tools of destruction. Explosives, rockets and bullets, tanks and planes, nerve agents and anthrax and nuclear-tipped missiles are used to ensure survival and ultimate victory. Along the way, houses and power plants and hospitals are destroyed, forests burned, seas and rivers poisoned, and people killed, maimed and displaced.
Long after the fighting is over, the damage to the environment remains, leaving victors and defeated alike sharing a common problem: the increasing scarcity of basics such as food and clean water. Inevitably conflict arises over access to what remains. Prices rise, desperation sets in, and illegal and uncontrolled harvesting of whatever is left soon follows. At this point, there is usually a worldwide appeal for relief aid, food and medicine to prevent starvation and death on a massive scale. We have seen this Malthusian nightmare so many times before, in Eritrea, the Sudan, Ethiopia, and Afghanistan. Centuries ago, the world was large enough, and the human population small enough, that environmental recovery was possible. But today’s circumstances are different. We are already using more of everything each year than the natural world produces. There is nowhere left to run. Natural ecosystems destroyed by war can no longer be replaced. They can sometimes be slowly and painstakingly repaired. Often they may be lost forever.
A decade ago, the US led a war against Iraq to liberate Kuwait and its oilfields. Environmental disaster ensued, as Saddam Hussein ordered the release of thousands of tons of crude oil into the Persian Gulf and the torching of Kuwaiti oil wells. The impacts on the marine and coastal habitat in the Gulf are still being felt today. Thousands of seabirds, fish and invertebrates were killed and poisoned. Vast amounts of oil soaked into the ground, contaminating groundwater supplies. Oil fires raged uncontrollably for months, spewing thick clouds of toxic gases into the atmosphere, darkening the skies of the region.
One can only imagine the scale of environmental damage possible if another war fought, this time in the heartland of Iraq, and the devastating impact this would have on the lives of ordinary Iraqis in the aftermath of conflict. If similar tactics are used this time around, the costs of environmental clean-up could dwarf the billions of dollars which have already been spent in Kuwait. Add to that the possibility of soil contamination by depleted uranium munitions, pollution from chemical weapons, and the environmental havoc which could result from the release of biological agents, and the catastrophe could be complete.
The historian Barbara W. Truchman, in her book The March of Folly, describes examples throughout history of wars which were started and continued by default, simply because the leaders involved did not think that there was any way of stopping them, even if they knew that disaster would ensue. In Vietnam in the 1960s, the United States government could not see an alternative to continued escalation of the conflict without a ‘loss of face’ they were not prepared to accept. Hundreds of thousands died and billions of dollars were wasted before the inevitable pullout occurred.
Before the US government again puts itself into a position where it feel it has no choice but to go to war, either because the loss of face would be too great, or simply because the sheer momentum of its military build-up would be too difficult and expensive to reverse, it should reflect on the long-term implications of war. While environmental concerns are rarely discussed in times like these, the reality of our age is that in this arid, ecologically fragile and densely populated part of the world, the long-term after-effects of war could destabilise the entire region.
The environmental impacts of war in Iraq may very well be long-lasting, resulting in widespread poverty, scarcity and conflict for years to come. After the victors have left and the dead have been buried, those who remain may be left with a land scarred by irreversible ecological damage, a breeding ground for extremism
and hatred. It is happening in the West Bank and Afghanistan t
oday. The world can no longer afford the environmental damage which war inevitably brings, and the resulting long-term conflict and suffering which result. There are simply too many of us now, and not enough environment to go around. Surely there are other less destructive, and in the long-term more beneficial ways, to ensure Iraq’s peaceful disarmament.
Nicosia-based Paul E. Hardisty is Director for Europe and the Middle East of Komex Environmental, a global environmental consultancy. He writes once a month on environment-related issues for the Sunday Mail. Dr Hardisty can be contacted on [email protected]
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