This article was originally published on thenewhumanitarian.org
As I wrap up my time shaping International Crisis Group’s work on climate, peace, and security, the first position of its kind for the organisation in Africa, I’ve been taking stock of what these years have shown me. From UN summits to drought-hit villages in Somalia, I’ve witnessed up close how climate change and conflict are becoming increasingly connected.
People often ask me: What does climate, peace, and security actually mean? To some in the Global North, it seems peripheral. With wars raging from Gaza to Sudan, how could climate possibly be connected? But I have seen first-hand how increasing droughts and erratic rainfall deepen poverty and instability where governments are weak and struggle to adapt.
In Somalia in 2022 and 2023, during one of the worst droughts on record, I met women who had fled al-Shabab-controlled territory with their children. The men had often stayed behind to protect what little they had or because they weren’t allowed to leave. These women now live in displacement camps: sleeping in makeshift shelters, exposed to heat by day and threats of violence by night. Al-Shabab weaponises access to water. By the same token, the group has also used water and aid as tools to win support from locals as it takes back territory. The climate conflict connection isn’t theoretical in Somalia; it’s operational.
Violence linked to rising temperatures is real, but it’s not inevitable. Small, targeted climate adaptation projects can prevent climate shocks from transforming into bloodshed. Crisis Group research from Cameroon to South Sudan shows that resilience to extreme weather requires creativity and investment, but also the basics: dams, roads, and weather stations that shield communities from extreme weather.
The blind spot
Despite the prevalence of climate diplomacy, its policy discussions often have a critical blind spot: The people who are worst affected rarely feature in summits, donor roundtables, or strategy documents.
At the World Economic Forum in Davos, Switzerland, earlier this year, climate was at the top of the agenda. Five of the top ten global risks over the next decade are environmental, according to the Forum. Leaders and CEOs rightly concentrated on emissions and clean energy, but the way climate change is reshaping peace and security received little attention. In an era of interstate war and democratic backsliding, ignoring this isn’t just negligent. It’s dangerous.
Resilience to extreme weather requires creativity and investment, but also the basics: dams, roads, and weather stations that shield communities from extreme weather.
Despite heightened awareness among policymakers of the need for climate finance in fragile and conflict-affected states, the money has been slow to move.
When I asked a European diplomat why this was, she shrugged and said, “We’re preparing for war in Europe.” Brutal but honest. A top UN expert expressed it differently: Climate justice arguments alone won’t persuade donors. Unless the case is linked to “extremism, destabilisation, or migration flows”, grant funding, she said, rarely follows.
Fragile states left behind
As the Africa Climate Summit in Addis Ababa, Ethiopia, draws to a close, the climate community is inching forward on “loss and damage”, shorthand for compensating vulnerable countries for irreversible climate-related harms, with a dedicated Fund being set up, and starting to give adaptation the attention it deserves.
But funding for both areas is still way behind need and, crucially, neither effort includes peace. Africa faces a staggering $2.5 trillion climate financing gap by 2030. The continent accounts for about 4% of greenhouse gas emissions, yet conflict-affected states on the continent are the least likely to receive climate finance.
Donors favour projects that they and investors see as low-risk and likely to succeed, such as solar and wind energy, and climate-smart crops. These are important. However, in fragile settings, adaptation also requires stronger institutions, dispute resolution mechanisms, and governance capable of withstanding shocks. More debt relief, blended finance, and public funds to reduce risks for private investment would help channel finance flows into climate resilience where it is most needed.
Some progress, mainly in the shadows
There are signs of hope, but they’re often happening out of the spotlight. The African Union is quietly working to finalise a Common Position on Climate, Peace and Security, something that could give its 55 member states a united voice.
At the UN, the Climate Security Mechanism, a small team with a limited budget, has succeeded in placing climate advisors in locations such as Juba, South Sudan and Kabul, Afghanistan. I have seen the impact: These officials have helped to bring conflict parties together to reduce tensions, to promote nature-based solutions that have restored canals and livelihoods, and have even highlighted climate risks on the agenda in Afghanistan. At COP29 in Baku, the presence of a Taliban delegation, whom I also met, understandably caused outrage over their human rights record, particularly against women and girls. But Afghanistan ranks as the world’s eighth most vulnerable to climate change, according to the Notre Dame Global Adaptation Index, and ignoring this does no one any favours.
Yet, this issue still lingers on the margins. At COP28, “Peace, Relief and Recovery Day” brought together over 90 countries and organisations, including Crisis Group, to advocate for climate finance grants to conflict-affected regions. It represented progress, but outside the official negotiations – and not legally binding – it received little attention from the broader climate community, and even some quiet opposition from those who worried it distracted from the principal goal of reducing greenhouse gas emissions.
The UN-led COP process, which requires unanimous agreement from 198 governments, focuses on issues like climate mitigation and finance. Politically sensitive issues like climate-conflict have so far been excluded. Many major powers, including Brazil, the host of COP30, oppose framing the environment as a security issue, arguing that it falls under the jurisdiction of the UN Security Council, not the United Nations Framework Convention on Climate Change (UNFCCC), which runs the COP process.
What I’ve learned, and what we need next
After years in this space, I have several conclusions.
First, we must stop separating climate and conflict. In fragile states, they collide. If donors want their money to make a difference, peace can’t be treated as an afterthought in climate adaptation planning.
Climate adaptation in fragile contexts must involve peace negotiators, prioritise conflict hotspots with flexible local funding, and look beyond traditional diplomacy to the people already leading on the ground.
Second, donor risk aversion must be addressed. Right now, fragile states are the least likely to access climate finance. Yet small, flexible grants to local organisations can deliver outsized results, if donors are willing to take the risks they’ve so far avoided.
Third, we must widen the circle. If the UN Security Council is paralysed, others are already taking action, from the African Union to city mayors and local communities. They deserve far more recognition and support.
These shifts require more than just policy tweaks, but a fundamental mindset shift among policymakers. Climate adaptation in fragile contexts must involve peace negotiators, prioritise conflict hotspots with flexible local funding, and look beyond traditional diplomacy to the people already leading on the ground.
What I will take away from this job is not the speeches in air-conditioned conference halls, but the women I encountered in Somalia, adapting to brutal conditions every single day with almost nothing. At the very least, the international community can meet them halfway.
The New Humanitarian puts quality, independent journalism at the service of the millions of people affected by humanitarian crises around the world. Find out more at www.thenewhumanitarian.org.
