Madagascar’s environmental past is more complex and regionally diverse than the tired narrative of a once-forested island devastated by people would have us believe. In a just-published opinion piece led by one of my academic heroines, Alison Richard,we unpack this oversimplified story, showing how diverse landscapes—from ancient grasslands to dynamic forest mosaics—shifted over millennia, shaped by both natural forces and human action. Yet traces of that older narrative linger stubbornly in scientific debates and conservation strategies. Escaping this narrative trap requires paying closer attention to the deep-time environmental record and to the heterogeneity of human histories across the island.
Forest fire above Rolle, VD, a terrifying vision of the future?
What if, one unusually hot summer, after four weeks without rain, a wildfire progressed across the face of the Jura, the hills of la Côte, or the forested foothills of the Alpes Vaudoises, a spectacle above the Lake Léman. Perhaps sparked by a faulty power line, a spilled charcoal grill with cervelas sausages, an arsonist… First blowing one way with the westerlies, then dangerously confounding firefighters with a switch to a strong clear-skied northeasterly la bise wind…
All too often, efforts to restore forests and ecosystems treat the human dimensions as an afterthought. Biodiversity, or carbon offset payments, tend to come first. Yet ultimately, it is people who shape the need for, take decisions on, carry out, and are impacted by restoration. In a pair of short policy perspective articles led by my colleague Stephanie Mansourian, we outline the importance and relevance of human dimensions. The first one presents a five-pillar framework – stretching across scales from local to global – to help policymakers and practitioners think through the diverse places where a human focus is crucial. The second one uses the forest transition curve to illustrate how people are relevant at every stage of forest loss and potential recovery.
Seems like everybody is planting trees or restoring forestlands these days. The emphasis is often on carbon capture to attenuate climate change. But this emphasis on carbon offsets (and the money behind it) draws in powerful global actors and carbon market intermediaries. Meanwhile, the costs of forest restoration are all too often unjustly borne by less powerful, local people living in places where trees are planted or restored. How forest restoration efforts be governed so that benefits can accrue at all spatial scales, from global to local?
Time for a light post as America celebrates Thanksgiving weekend. On the menu, a roasted Meleagris gallopavo domesticus, a fowl native to Mexico and southern USA. But why, oh why, is this bird called “turkey” in English, “peru” in Portuguese, and “of india” in many other languages (“dinde” in French, “indyushka” in Russian, and “hindi” in – hold your hats – Turkish)? How geographically confused can we be? Do names of plants and animals reflect histories of migration and movement, or mistaken identities, or accidental out-of-context snapshots?
Ok this isn’t a geography topic but it concerns this geographer’s son. I have written an essay about the absolutely frustrating, paralysing, and paradoxical challenges of caring for someone suffering from very severe ME/CFS (myalgic encephalomyelitis / chronic fatigue syndrome), someone who is stuck in bed all day, sensitive to lights and sounds, with symptoms potentially worsening after any mental or physical exertion (including a doctor’s visit). My essay also touches on the challenges of doing research for cures and treatments – well illustrated just the other day when a study of a new drug for Long-Covid was abandoned at the University of Basel because not enough patients had the energy to come to the hospital five times for the necessary tests and follow-up (1, 2). To summarize: severe ME/CFS and Long Covid patients are too sick to be helped, and help makes things worse. Help! But don’t! What a paradox. I use the metaphor of Schrödinger’s cat to frame the essay, which was just published here on the HealthRising website, as part of Cort Johnson’s article on severe ME/CFS. I reproduce my essay below.
There is a lot to be said for research that builds on lessons from many academic disciplines and between scientists and practitioners. But in such research one always has to negotiate power relations. Whose vision dominates, who compromises? Who gets more of the funding? Which framework is used?
Stephen Legg, a former colleague from my days at Monash University, asked me for 600 word statement titled “I am a geographer” for the magazine of the Geography Teacher’s Association of Victoria. It was a fun occasion to reflect. See below.
Stopping and reversing deforestation is a foremost priority in much of the tropics. Numerous policies and programs try to stem forest clearance, encourage tree planting, and restore forest landscapes. The hope is to promote “forest transitions” similar to the historical turnaround in forest cover trajectories in wealthy temperate countries. Such efforts have become all the more urgent given the climate and biodiversity crises. Yet it is often assumed that more forests is better and more sustainable, without careful consideration of how and where it happens, who wins and who loses, and what kinds of forests. In a recent open access paper, we identify nine pitfalls to such assumptions. Hopefully this inspires researchers, policymakers, and leaders to promote more diverse transitions to sustainable forest use and management.
The nine pitfalls and their implications for research and policy. (Figure 2 from our paper in the journal Environmental Conservation). With photos of forest landscapes across Southeast Asia: (a) plantations of rubber and acacia spreading in central Vietnam with remnant natural forest on hilltops; (b) ancestral lands of Pala’wan farmers on Palawan, Philippines; (c) announcement of an application for a communal land title for heritage land that has already been converted to oil palm plantations in Sabah, Malaysia; and (d) paddy rice fields and upland forest with swidden in Hsipaw, Myanmar. Photos (a) Tran Nam Thang, (b) Wolfram Dressler, (c) Jennifer Bartmess, (d) Kevin Woods.Read the rest of this entry »
Two decades ago, in my book on fire in Madagascar published at the University of Chicago Press, I made an educated guess that “in grasslands, roughly one-quarter to one-half of the surface burns annually“. A footnote fills over half of the page to justify my estimate, drawing from local studies, observations, government statistics, and rudimentary satellite data. I am thrilled to report that a just-published study confirms this estimate and makes it more precise, finding that 32% or so of the grasslands burn each year. The study takes advantage of newer satellite images that are more frequent and higher resolution to make its estimates, catching smaller and more ephemeral (quickly regreening) fire patches. Congratulations to Víctor Fernández-García on leading this work, funded by a Swiss Network for International Studies grant.
Posted by christiankull 
