Sofia Kiryttopoulou – DDRN

Revisiting the Law of War under Climate Stress: The Case of Yemen

Sofia Kiryttopoulou — Mon, 03 Aug 2026 13:30:07 +0000

The Law of War, formally known as International Humanitarian Law (IHL), was developed to regulate violence during armed conflict by limiting unnecessary suffering and protecting civilian populations. According to the International Committee of the Red Cross (ICRC), IHL governs both the conduct of hostilities and the protection of persons who are not or are no longer participating in conflict. Its legal framework is built around principles such as distinction, proportionality, and military necessity, all intended to strike a balance between humanitarian protection and military objectives.

Yet the Law of War emerged in a period when environmental degradation, climate stress, and ecological collapse were not understood as defining conditions of insecurity. The major instruments of modern IHL, including the Geneva Conventions and their Additional Protocols, were designed around assumptions that the humanitarian effects of military operations could largely be assessed through direct, immediate, and geographically bounded harm. Civilian suffering was conceived primarily in relation to casualties, physical destruction, and the immediate reverberations of military attacks rather than through long-term interactions with pre-existing environmental vulnerability.

Today, however, armed conflicts increasingly unfold in climate-stressed settings characterized by water scarcity, environmental degradation, food insecurity, and weakened infrastructure. In these contexts, military operations that may appear legally proportionate in isolation can generate cascading humanitarian effects far beyond what traditional legal analysis anticipates. Damage to a power grid, fuel depot, water pump, or port may not simply produce temporary disruption; it may accelerate systemic collapse where ecological resilience is already dangerously low.

This article argues that while IHL remains formally equipped to protect civilians during armed conflict, it contains a structural blind spot when applied to climate-vulnerable environments. Using Yemen as a primary case study, the article examines how acute water scarcity and environmental fragility interact with wartime destruction to magnify civilian harm. Yemen serves as a compelling proof of concept because it combines one of the world’s most severe pre-existing water crises with prolonged conflict and repeated attacks on essential infrastructure, making visible the limitations of a legal framework that tends to evaluate harm discretely rather than cumulatively.

The Legal Framework & Its Environmental Blind Spot

International Humanitarian Law is not entirely silent on environmental protection during armed conflict. It contains provisions aimed at limiting damage to both the natural environment and infrastructure indispensable to civilian survival. Under Article 54 of Additional Protocol I to the Geneva Conventions, parties to a conflict are prohibited from attacking objects essential for civilian survival, including drinking water installations, irrigation systems, and agricultural areas. Additional protections appear in Articles 35 and 55 of Additional Protocol I, which prohibit methods of warfare expected to cause widespread, long-term, and severe damage to the natural environment.

At first glance, these provisions suggest that IHL already possesses tools capable of addressing environmentally mediated harm. Water infrastructure, food systems, and ecological resources are formally recognized as legally relevant objects of protection. Yet these rules were largely drafted with exceptional environmental destruction in mind—such as scorched-earth tactics, toxic contamination, or large-scale ecological devastation—rather than chronic environmental fragility.

This creates an important legal gap in climate-vulnerable conflict settings. Existing protections tend to focus on the legality of specific attacks and visible environmental destruction, but they struggle to account for the interaction between military operations and pre-existing ecological stress. In countries already facing water depletion, drought, or infrastructural weakness, damage that appears limited in military terms may trigger disproportionate humanitarian consequences through cascading system failures.

Moreover, IHL provides little guidance on how environmental vulnerability should influence proportionality assessments. While the destruction of a water pump, port, or fuel depot may not independently constitute unlawful environmental damage, its consequences may become catastrophic where civilian survival depends on already fragile systems. The law therefore recognizes environmental harm, but it remains comparatively underdeveloped in addressing environmental fragility as a condition that magnifies civilian suffering.

The Case of Yemen: Anatomy of a Climate-Stressed Conflict

The armed conflict in Yemen, particularly following the 2015 intervention by the Saudi-led coalition against the Houthi movement, illustrates how climate vulnerability can transform the effects of otherwise legally assessable military actions into systemic humanitarian collapse. The significance of the Yemeni case lies not only in the scale of destruction, but in the fact that many of the actions contributing to humanitarian harm are not clearly prohibited under existing international humanitarian law when assessed in isolation.

Under the existing law of armed conflict, certain categories of infrastructure may lawfully be targeted if they qualify as military objectives. Dual-use infrastructure, such as ports, roads, fuel depots, and electricity networks, can be attacked when they contribute effectively to military operations and when their destruction satisfies the requirements of proportionality and military necessity. Even where civilian harm occurs, such attacks are not automatically unlawful if the expected incidental damage is not considered “excessive” in relation to the anticipated military advantage.

This doctrinal structure is central to understanding Yemen. For example, the port of Hudaydah has been repeatedly affected by military operations and restrictions during the conflict. Under IHL analysis, the port may be treated as a legitimate military objective due to its role in logistics and supply chains. Similarly, disruptions to fuel import routes or transport infrastructure may be assessed as lawful if they are tied to military necessity. The law does not prohibit such actions per se; rather, it regulates them through proportionality calculations conducted at the level of individual attacks.

However, Yemen demonstrates how this legal structure produces a critical blind spot when applied in a climate-stressed environment. Even when strikes or blockades are arguably lawful under distinction and proportionality, their downstream effects are magnified by environmental fragility. Yemen’s water system, for instance, is heavily dependent on diesel-powered pumps due to the absence of resilient public infrastructure. As a result, disruptions to fuel imports, whether through damage to infrastructure or restrictions on supply, can indirectly disable access to clean water across entire regions.

According to UNICEF Yemen WASH reports, millions of people have faced severely reduced access to safe drinking water during the conflict, largely due to the breakdown of interconnected systems rather than the destruction of water sources alone. Yet under traditional IHL analysis, these outcomes are difficult to fully integrate into proportionality assessments because the legal test focuses on the expected harm of a specific attack, rather than the cumulative impact on an already fragile environmental system.

The same dynamic is visible in the collapse of sanitation infrastructure and the spread of waterborne disease. According to the World Health Organization Yemen crisis reports, deterioration in water and sanitation systems contributed significantly to large-scale cholera outbreaks. However, these humanitarian consequences emerge not from a single unlawful act, but from the aggregation of multiple disruptions that, taken individually, may fall within the scope of lawful military conduct.

Yemen therefore exposes a structural limitation in how international humanitarian law operates in practice. The law does not necessarily fail to regulate individual acts of warfare; rather, it struggles to account for how environmentally fragile systems convert legally assessable military actions into cascading humanitarian crises.

The “Cumulative Harm” Problem

A key limitation in International Humanitarian Law becomes visible when looking at how harm is assessed in practice. The principle of proportionality is applied on a strike-by-strike basis, asking whether expected civilian harm from a specific attack is excessive compared to the military advantage. This means each incident is judged in isolation.

The problem is that humanitarian harm does not accumulate in isolated units. In conflicts like Yemen, repeated disruption of ports, fuel supplies, and electricity networks gradually breaks down interdependent systems such as water access, sanitation, and food distribution. Individually, each action may be considered proportionate or not clearly unlawful under IHL. Taken together, however, they can produce widespread humanitarian collapse.

This gap becomes sharper in climate-stressed environments. Where water scarcity and weak infrastructure already exist, even limited or repeated disruptions can have outsized effects. Yet proportionality does not formally require decision-makers to assess how environmental fragility will amplify harm over time.

As a result, IHL can legally evaluate each step correctly while still missing the overall pattern of cumulative destruction. The law captures isolated harm well, but struggles to account for system-wide collapse produced through repeated lawful actions in fragile environments.

Comparative Perspectives and Conclusion

The dynamics observed in Yemen are not unique. Similar interactions between conflict and environmental fragility can be seen in other climate-stressed regions where civilian survival depends on vulnerable infrastructure systems.

In the Lake Chad Basin, armed conflict involving non-state armed groups has unfolded alongside severe environmental degradation and shrinking water resources. As in Yemen, civilian livelihoods depend heavily on fragile ecological systems, particularly access to water and arable land. According to the United Nations Environment Programme, environmental stress in the region has significantly intensified humanitarian vulnerability in the context of armed conflict.

A similar pattern is visible in Somalia, where prolonged conflict intersects with recurring droughts and weak infrastructure. In such contexts, disruption to transport routes, water access, or fuel supply can quickly escalate into widespread food insecurity and displacement, even when individual acts of violence are not necessarily unlawful under international humanitarian law.

These comparative examples reinforce the central insight of this article: the legal framework of international humanitarian law is not absent or ineffective, but it is often analytically under-equipped to account for how environmental fragility reshapes the consequences of armed conflict.

This does not require abandoning the structure of IHL. Instead, it suggests the need for a more dynamic interpretive approach to existing principles—particularly proportionality—that better reflects cumulative harm and environmental vulnerability as part of the assessment of civilian impact.

Yemen therefore does not stand as an exception to the law of war, but as a stress test of its assumptions. It shows that in climate-vulnerable conflict zones, the legality of individual acts may no longer fully capture the humanitarian reality they collectively produce.

Sofia Kiryttopoulou is a BA student of Balkan, Slavic, and Oriental Studies, University of Macedonia, and a DDRN Intern.

Youth at the Table: How Young Advocates Engage with Climate Diplomacy

Sofia Kiryttopoulou — Mon, 03 Aug 2026 13:25:01 +0000

Climate change is often discussed through science, emissions targets, and environmental disasters. Yet behind global climate action lies another, less visible process: climate diplomacy. Broadly, climate diplomacy refers to the negotiations and cooperation between countries aimed at addressing climate change through international agreements, policy commitments, and collective action.

As climate decisions shape the future of younger generations, youth participation in these discussions has become increasingly important. While many associate youth climate engagement with protests and activism, young people are also participating in policy consultations, advocacy networks, educational initiatives, and climate diplomacy forums.

To better understand what youth engagement in climate diplomacy looks like in practice, I spoke with the hosts of Young, Loud and Green, Natalia Vradi, and Ioanna Giakoumopoulou, two young women from Greece who are actively involved in climate advocacy. Through conversations with climate experts, researchers, and youth leaders, the podcast explores climate diplomacy, sustainability, and civic participation, while making these discussions more accessible to younger audiences.

How Two Young Researchers Found Their Path into Climate Diplomacy

Both interviewees described their entry into climate-related work as closely linked to their academic experiences, but also to the people and environments that shaped their interest in the subject.

Natalia Vradi studied Political Science and Public Administration before completing a master’s degree in Southeastern European Studies. She explained that her interest in climate diplomacy was first sparked during her undergraduate studies, when she attended a course taught by a relatively young professor specializing in the topic. She emphasized that the professor’s age and teaching style made a significant difference in how engaging and accessible the subject felt, particularly because climate diplomacy is often perceived as distant or overly technical. This early exposure helped her recognize climate change not only as an environmental issue, but as a political and diplomatic process shaped through negotiation and international cooperation.

Ioanna studied International Relations with History and also holds a master’s degree in Southeastern European Studies. Her engagement with climate-related work developed more gradually through her broader interest in youth participation, civic engagement, and what it means for young people to be actively involved in political and social processes. Interestingly, she also noted that her deeper involvement in climate diplomacy was influenced through her collaboration and connection with Natalia, highlighting how peer networks and shared academic environments can play a key role in shaping professional pathways.

Taken together, their experiences underline the importance of accessible education and relatable mentorship in climate-related fields. Having educators and peers who are close in age or who actively engage with the subject in an approachable way can significantly lower the barrier to entry for complex topics such as climate diplomacy, making them feel more tangible and relevant to younger students.

What youth participation in climate diplomacy looks like

When asked what youth engagement in climate diplomacy looks like in practice, the hosts said that, unfortunately, it is still largely associated with protests and street activism. They noted that while movements such as Fridays for Future have played a crucial role in raising global awareness of the climate crisis, protest remains the most visible and accessible form of engagement for many young people.

At the same time, they explained that youth participation is not limited to activism in the streets. Other forms do exist, including policy consultations, youth delegations at international conferences, participation in climate forums, research contributions, and engagement through youth-led networks and educational initiatives. However, they emphasized that these forms of participation are often less visible and do not necessarily translate into real influence within formal decision-making processes.

When asked about this gap between participation and influence, they pointed to what is often described as “youth washing.” They said that institutions frequently highlight the presence of young people in conferences, consultations, or advisory spaces as proof of inclusivity. However, in many cases, this presence does not necessarily lead to meaningful involvement in shaping decisions.

As they explained, the core issue lies in the difference between being included in a space and having actual decision-making power within it. While youth participation is increasingly acknowledged in principle, it does not always result in concrete policy impact.

Barriers to meaningful participation

Several structural barriers were identified as limiting young people’s ability to engage effectively in climate diplomacy.

Funding was highlighted as one of the most significant obstacles. Much youth participation depends on unpaid or voluntary work, which excludes those without financial support or flexibility. Age was also discussed as a persistent barrier, with younger participants often not being taken as seriously in formal institutional settings.

More broadly, the interviewees pointed to a lack of clear mechanisms through which youth contributions are translated into policy outcomes. Even when young people are consulted, their recommendations are not always reflected in final decisions.

Youth Networks Beyond Borders

When asked whether they could point to examples of youth-led initiatives that have had a tangible impact in climate spaces, the hosts referred to a discussion they had in one of their episodes from their podcast. In the episode, they spoke with Michael Kakande, a United Nations Climate Change COP Impact Maker and the Founder and Chairperson of Resilient40 (R40), a Pan-African and diaspora youth-led network focused on climate resilience, adaptation, and climate justice across Africa.

They described Resilient40 as a network that brings together young professionals from across the African continent and diaspora to amplify youth voices that are often underrepresented in global climate discussions. According to the interviewees, its work is particularly focused on ensuring that African perspectives are meaningfully included in international climate negotiations, especially in key policy areas such as climate finance, adaptation strategies, and loss and damage.

In their view, initiatives like Resilient40 illustrate that youth engagement in climate diplomacy is not confined to local activism or awareness campaigns. Instead, it increasingly takes the form of structured, cross-border collaboration that connects young people across regions and institutional contexts.

They added that this reflects a broader trend in climate advocacy: youth participation is becoming more global and interconnected, shaped by networks that operate across both the Global North and Global South. Rather than acting in isolation, young climate advocates are increasingly engaging in transnational spaces where knowledge, strategies, and political demands are exchanged and amplified across borders.

Misconceptions About Youth in Climate Governance

The interviewees addressed a recurring misconception about youth participation in climate governance: the assumption that young people lack the expertise, experience, or technical knowledge necessary to contribute meaningfully to policy discussions. They firmly challenged this notion, arguing that many youth-led initiatives comprise highly informed participants who actively engage with complex areas like climate diplomacy, negotiation processes, and international frameworks. In their experience, young leaders are often deeply embedded in research, advocacy, and policy-oriented debates, making them well-versed in both the scientific and political dimensions of climate change.

To combat this skepticism, they use their podcast to directly showcase the sophisticated capability of the youth movement. The podcast highlights the sophisticated professionalism of the youth movement, featuring, as Ioanna noted, “fantastic guests, who are so involved in this and so passionate and well educated.” By centering these conversations, the podcast proves that young climate actors are highly informed, serious leaders who deserve a seat at the table.

This effort to shift the narrative extends to the Youth Climate Diplomacy Forum itself. Ioanna highlighted that the Forum delivers “top-tier conferences and content” entirely produced by individuals “under the age of 35,” showcasing the undeniable professionalism and active engagement within the youth climate movement.

Ultimately,the interviewees stressed that the issue is not a lack of competence among young people, but rather a structural tendency to undervalue their contributions. Even when youth are present in formal settings, their input is not always treated with the same seriousness as that of older or more established actors, creating a gap between participation and recognition.

A Source of Hope: The Next Generation of Climate Engagement

When asked whether the future of youth climate advocacy and diplomacy offers genuine hope or if the movement is destined to stagnate, the interviewees pointed directly to the surging momentum of grassroots engagement.

For them, hope is not an abstract concept, but something visible in the sheer volume and sincerity of the young people getting involved. They noted that the next generation of advocates is not merely “showing up for the pictures,” but is driven by a deep, authentic interest in systemic change. There is an undeniable strength in numbers, evidenced by the rapid growth of youth organizations and the massive turnout at local initiatives.

This momentum is particularly vibrant on a local scale. In Athens alone, a booming ecosystem of youth-led solidarity initiatives has emerged. From youth-run magazines and massive tree-planting events to beach cleanups and climate-conscious fashion swaps, the sheer variety of active projects offers a daily dose of optimism. Social media has played a vital role in this expansion, making it easier than ever for young people to discover a clothing swap one day and a coastal cleanup the next.

Ultimately, they agreed that climate engagement has grown exponentially over the past few years, largely because the crisis itself has become impossible to ignore. As they poignantly noted, it is both a blessing and a curse: while the severity of the crisis forces people to action, the reality of climate change is now as simple and undeniable as opening a window and looking outside. Yet, in the face of that reality, the rapid proliferation of new, youth-led initiatives remains their greatest source of hope.

From Presence to Power

Youth engagement in climate governance has evolved far beyond the boundaries of traditional street protest, turning into a highly strategic and professionalized movement. Through the experiences and insights shared in this interview, it is clear that despite facing steep structural barriers like funding limitations and the persistent threat of “youth washing,” young advocates are operating with a sophisticated level of technical expertise and cross-border solidarity. The sheer momentum of these grassroots initiatives shows that the next generation is no longer just asking for a seat at the table; they are actively reshaping the dialogue. In the face of an escalating crisis, their deeply informed engagement provides a vital reminder that meaningful climate action is impossible without recognizing youth not just as observers, but as essential partners in driving real policy change.

*Special thanks to Natalia Vradi and Ioanna Giakoumopoulou for sharing their time, experiences, and vital insights into the future of youth climate diplomacy.

Sofia Kiryttopoulou is studying for a Bachelor’s Degree in Balkan, Slavic and Oriental Studies. Specialization: Politics and Law, at University of Macedonia, Thessaloniki, Greece.

Power and Participation in Climate Negotiations : How Vulnerable States Engage with Climate Diplomacy

Sofia Kiryttopoulou — Mon, 03 Aug 2026 13:21:30 +0000

Climate diplomacy refers to the system of multilateral negotiations through which states coordinate responses to climate change. The principal institutional forum for this process is the UNFCCC, where governments negotiate mitigation commitments, climate finance, adaptation support, transparency frameworks, and mechanisms addressing loss and damage.

Although the UNFCCC operates formally on the principle of sovereign equality, the practical dynamics of negotiation are shaped by significant asymmetries in economic power, technical capacity, and historical responsibility for greenhouse gas emissions. These disparities influence bargaining power and agenda-setting capacity, producing a structure in which major emitters and advanced economies often exert greater influence over technical and procedural outcomes, while climate-vulnerable states bear disproportionate exposure to impacts.

This asymmetry is especially evident in the relationship between industrialized economies and highly vulnerable developing states. Many small island developing states and least developed countries contribute minimally to global emissions yet face acute and sometimes existential climate risks. Conversely, major emitters typically maintain larger diplomatic missions, deeper technical expertise, and greater institutional capacity to engage across the full breadth of negotiation streams.

Climate diplomacy therefore extends beyond emissions accounting into questions of distributive justice, responsibility, and global inequality. While all states participate formally on equal terms, their effective influence is strongly mediated by coalition-building, institutional capacity, and the ability to translate vulnerability into normative and political leverage.

Vulnerability and differential exposure to climate impacts

The significance of Small Island Developing States (SIDS), Least Developed Countries (LDCs), and other climate-vulnerable nations lies in the intensity of their exposure to climate impacts and the constraints on their adaptive capacity.

SIDS face heightened exposure to sea-level rise, coastal erosion, saltwater intrusion, and extreme weather events. In some cases, these risks extend to fundamental questions of territorial integrity, long-term habitability, and state continuity, raising unprecedented legal and governance challenges.

LDCs experience climate vulnerability through structural economic dependence on climate-sensitive sectors such as rain-fed agriculture and fisheries. Climate variability—including droughts, flooding, and shifting precipitation patterns—directly affects food security, livelihoods, and macroeconomic stability. Limited fiscal space and borrowing capacity further constrain recovery from climate shocks, often increasing reliance on external assistance.

Across parts of sub-Saharan Africa, climate risks such as desertification, water scarcity, heat stress, and extreme rainfall events interact with demographic pressures and infrastructural constraints. In regions such as the Sahel, states like Niger and Chad, recurrent drought conditions and land degradation contribute to compounding vulnerabilities affecting agricultural productivity and governance capacity.

Across these contexts, climate change operates as a “threat multiplier,” interacting with pre-existing structural vulnerabilities related to poverty, weak infrastructure, and constrained access to capital. As a result, climate negotiations for vulnerable states are frequently framed not only in environmental terms but also as issues of development, survival, and international equity.

Unequal capacity in climate negotiation

Despite formal legal equality among states, climate diplomacy exhibits persistent disparities in negotiating capacity.

A key constraint is delegation size and specialization. Smaller states often operate with limited diplomatic personnel who must cover multiple negotiation tracks simultaneously, restricting their ability to engage in parallel technical streams such as mitigation accounting, adaptation finance, and carbon market design. In contrast, major economies typically deploy larger, more specialized delegations that include experts in legal drafting, climate finance, and emissions modeling, enabling sustained engagement across simultaneous negotiation processes.

For example, states such as Nauru and the Cook Islands typically send around a dozen delegates or fewer, while countries like Eritrea are represented by only a handful of participants in some COP years.

By contrast, major emitters such as the United States regularly deploy well over 100 delegates, allowing them to cover multiple parallel negotiation streams simultaneously with specialized legal, technical, and finance teams.

It is important to note that small delegation size is not unique to vulnerable states—some smaller or wealthy countries (for example Ireland or other mid-sized European states) also send relatively limited teams. However, the key distinction is that vulnerable countries face far greater exposure to climate impacts and far fewer domestic resources, meaning limited delegation size translates directly into reduced negotiating capacity under existential stakes.

Financial constraints further limit participation. Regular attendance at COP meetings and intersessional negotiations requires resources that many vulnerable states lack, leading to dependence on external support and uneven continuity in negotiations. For example, small island developing states such as Tuvalu and Kiribati often rely on funding from UNFCCC support programmes to be able to maintain consistent presence at COP negotiations. Without this external assistance, these states would struggle to send even minimal delegations to annual conferences and preparatory sessions, which in turn weakens their ability to follow fast-moving negotiation texts and maintain continuity across multiple COP cycles.

Technical asymmetries also reinforce inequality. Climate negotiations increasingly rely on complex legal drafting, emissions accounting frameworks, and economic modeling. States with limited domestic technical infrastructure may depend on external expertise, which can constrain independent formulation of negotiating positions.

Finally, there is often a gap between negotiated commitments and implementation. Delivery of climate finance, technology transfer, and adaptation support frequently depends on donor priorities, institutional capacity, and domestic absorption constraints, leading to uneven realization of agreed outcomes.

Coalition-building and collective diplomacy

To offset structural disparities in capacity, vulnerable states engage in coalition-based diplomacy, pooling resources, expertise, and negotiating positions.

The Alliance of Small Island States represents low-lying island and coastal states facing acute climate risks. Despite limited economic weight, AOSIS has played an influential role in agenda-setting, particularly in advocating for the 1.5°C temperature goal and advancing recognition of loss and damage as a formal pillar of climate governance.

The Least Developed Countries Group represents a broad coalition of economically vulnerable states. It operates through internal division of labor across negotiation tracks, allowing members to specialize in specific technical areas and coordinate unified positions across complex negotiations.

The African Group of Negotiators provides regional coordination for African states, facilitating common positions on adaptation, finance, and implementation priorities.

The Climate Vulnerable Forum brings together states highly exposed to climate impacts, with a particular emphasis on climate finance and vulnerability-informed policy advocacy.

Through these coalitions, vulnerable states increase their collective bargaining capacity, improve technical coordination, and enhance their ability to shape negotiation agendas. Their influence is most pronounced in norm-setting and agenda formation, particularly in areas such as temperature targets, adaptation framing, and loss and damage governance.

Influence under constraint

Small island developing states, least developed countries, African states, and broader climate-vulnerable coalitions occupy a structurally ambivalent position in global climate governance. They are among the least responsible for cumulative emissions yet among the most exposed to climate impacts.

Despite limited material power, these states have become important actors in shaping the normative and procedural direction of international climate negotiations. Through coalition-building and strategic use of vulnerability narratives, they have contributed to the elevation of the 1.5°C goal, the institutionalization of adaptation within the UNFCCC framework, and the formal recognition of loss and damage as a policy domain.

However, their influence remains uneven across different dimensions of governance. While vulnerable states are often effective in shaping discourse and negotiation agendas, they remain dependent on larger economies for finance, implementation capacity, and enforcement mechanisms. Climate diplomacy thus reflects a dual structure: increasing inclusion of vulnerable voices alongside persistent asymmetries in material power and delivery capacity.

In summary, climate diplomacy is not solely a technical domain of emissions accounting and economic negotiation, but also a contested political arena in which legitimacy, responsibility, and survival are continuously negotiated. Vulnerable states do not control the system, but they play a significant role in defining its normative objectives and moral architecture.

Sofia Kiryttopoulou is studying for a Bachelor’s Degree in Balkan, Slavic and Oriental Studies. Specialization: Politics and Law, at University of Macedonia | Thessaloniki, Greece.

Climate Change and the Risk of State Extinction: A Challenge for International Law

Sofia Kiryttopoulou — Fri, 24 Apr 2026 11:50:20 +0000

Climate change is usually discussed as an environmental or economic problem. For some countries, however, it represents a far more fundamental challenge: a threat to their continued existence as states. Rising sea levels, coastal erosion and environmental degradation are already affecting several low-lying island countries, particularly in the Pacific and Indian Oceans.

For states such as the Maldives, Tuvalu and Kiribati, climate change is not a distant scenario but a present reality. If sea levels continue to rise during the twenty-first century, parts of their territory may become uninhabitable or even disappear entirely. This possibility raises a primary legal question: what happens to a state if it loses its territory?

The Crisis of Traditional Statehood

International law has traditionally assumed that states are stable territorial entities. Under traditional international law, a state is defined by the criteria established in the 1933 Montevideo Convention: a permanent population, a defined territory, a government, and the capacity to enter into relations with other states. Modern legal theory further emphasizes independence and the effective exercise of authority over a specific geographic area.

The climate crisis challenges this assumption. International law has historically dealt with the disappearance or transformation of states in political contexts such as war, annexation or state succession. The idea that a state might disappear due to environmental change is largely absent from existing legal frameworks. If a state were to lose its entire territory, it is unclear whether it could continue to exist as a subject of international law.

Small Island Developing States at Risk

The states most exposed to this risk belong largely to the group of Small Island Developing States (SIDS), a coalition of island and coastal countries that face structural vulnerabilities due to their small land area, geographic isolation and strong dependence on coastal ecosystems. According to the United Nations Office of the High Representative for Least Developed Countries, Landlocked Developing Countries and Small Island Developing States, these states are among the most vulnerable to climate change despite contributing minimally to global greenhouse gas emissions.

Many SIDS consist of coral atolls or low-lying islands where the highest elevation is only a few meters above sea level. As a result, even relatively modest sea-level rise can lead to coastal erosion, saltwater intrusion into freshwater supplies and the loss of habitable land. These pressures are already affecting communities in the Pacific and Indian Oceans and are expected to intensify throughout the century.

Because their territory is so limited, SIDS often have few options for internal relocation. This makes them particularly vulnerable not only to environmental degradation but also to the legal uncertainties that may arise if territorial loss accelerates.

Survival Strategies for Vulnerable States

In response to these risks, governments and scholars have begun exploring a range of potential strategies aimed at ensuring the survival of states threatened by climate change. These strategies generally fall into three broad categories: territorial adaptation, population relocation and legal innovation.

Territorial Adaptation

One approach focuses on preserving habitable territory through large-scale adaptation projects. These measures include coastal defenses, land reclamation and the construction of artificial islands designed to withstand rising sea levels.

Some island governments have already invested heavily in such initiatives. In the Maldives, for example, extensive land reclamation has been used to expand and elevate artificial islands such as Hulhumalé, a reclaimed island developed as a climate-resilient urban hub and built roughly two meters above sea level to reduce flooding risks. Experimental floating infrastructure projects have also been proposed as potential long-term solutions.

While these engineering solutions may help maintain habitable land and delay environmental pressures, they require significant financial resources and technical capacity. For many vulnerable states, implementing such large-scale projects remains a major challenge.

Planned Relocation and Mobility

A second strategy focuses on the relocation of populations as environmental conditions gradually deteriorate. Relocation may take place within national territory where possible, but in some cases it may involve migration to other states through bilateral agreements.

Some governments have already begun exploring long-term relocation options. Kiribati, for instance, has pursued policies aimed at preparing its population for international mobility through education and labor migration programs, often described as a strategy of “migration with dignity.” These initiatives aim to ensure that mobility occurs gradually and voluntarily rather than as a sudden humanitarian crisis.

Although relocation strategies can help protect affected populations, they raise complex questions about citizenship, political identity and the continued functioning of state institutions.

Even when relocation is carefully planned, it exposes a critical gap in International Law: individuals forced to leave their homes due to climate-induced territorial loss currently lack clear legal protections, because they do not meet the criteria set by the 1951 Geneva Convention Relating to the Status of Refugees. The Convention requires a “well-founded fear of being persecuted” on grounds such as race, religion, nationality, membership of a particular social group, or political opinion, a standard that neither environmental disasters nor rising sea levels satisfy. This is why the term “climate refugee” has no formal status in international law.

As a result, individuals displaced by the physical disappearance of their home states are denied the same legal protections or rights to asylum as political refugees, leaving their fate subject to the discretionary policies of host nations. This legal invisibility reflects a broader “crisis of identity” in the field: while the physical reality of displacement is undeniable, formal legal structures remain rooted in a pre-climate era, failing to provide a collective security framework for populations whose sovereign bond to their land has been severed by nature rather than politics.

Legal Continuity Without Territory

A third strategy involves the development of legal frameworks that would allow states to maintain their international legal personality even if their territory becomes uninhabitable.

Recent diplomatic initiatives suggest that such ideas are beginning to enter international practice. In 2023, Tuvalu signed the Falepili Union Treaty with Australia, which includes provisions recognizing the continuing statehood and sovereignty of Tuvalu despite the long-term risks posed by sea-level rise.

In parallel, scholars have proposed additional legal approaches, such as preserving existing maritime boundaries even if coastlines retreat. These discussions are closely linked to the interpretation of maritime rights under the United Nations Convention on the Law of the Sea, which governs the establishment of maritime zones.

Such proposals seek to ensure that vulnerable states retain control over their maritime resources and maintain their status within the international community even under changing environmental conditions.

Rethinking Statehood in the Age of Climate Change

None of these strategies alone provides a complete solution. Territorial adaptation may only delay environmental pressures, relocation raises difficult political and social questions, and legal innovations still require broader international recognition.

What the experience of vulnerable island states demonstrates is that climate change challenges some of the most basic assumptions on which the international legal system has historically been built. The traditional link between territory, population and sovereignty may no longer be as stable as previously assumed.

For this reason, the growing risk of climate-induced state extinction is not only a concern for a small group of island states. It represents a broader challenge for international law and the international community as a whole.

As sea levels continue to rise, the central question may not simply be whether certain territories will disappear, but whether international law can evolve quickly enough to ensure that the states and populations affected by these changes are not erased from the global order.

Sofia Kiryttopoulou is studying for a Bachelor’s Degree in Balkan, Slavic and Oriental Studies. Specialization: Politics and Law, at University of Macedonia | Thessaloniki, Greece.

Wasted at Both Ends: How the Global Food System Discards from Farm to Shelf

Sofia Kiryttopoulou — Fri, 24 Apr 2026 11:08:33 +0000

At a plantation in coastal Ecuador, a crate of bananas is set aside, not because it is spoiled, but because it is slightly curved in the wrong way, too small, or marked by minor blemishes. Thousands of kilometers away, in a Paris supermarket, sealed yogurt containers are emptied into a bin at the end of the day, discarded not for contamination, but because they have passed their “best before” date. Neither is unsafe. Yet both are destined for waste.

This contrast is not incidental. It reflects a deeper structural reality within the global food system, where food is routinely discarded both before and after it reaches the market. According to the Food and Agriculture Organization, roughly one-third of all food produced globally is lost or wasted, while the European Commission reports over 58 million tonnes discarded annually in Europe alone.

What emerges is not a broken system, but a coordinated one: production and retail practices that generate surplus on one end and enforce selectivity on the other. The result is a continuous flow of food that is grown, transported, and ultimately discarded at different stages of the same supply chain. To understand how this dynamic takes shape, it is necessary to begin at the source: the conditions under which food is grown, selected, and often discarded long before it ever reaches global markets.

The Producer’s Burden: Invisible Waste in Peru

In export-oriented regions such as Latin America, food waste is not primarily the result of poor farming practices or environmental conditions. It is shaped by the requirements of international trade.

Global supply chains operate under strict grading systems in which the value of produce is determined by standardized criteria of size, color, and shape. Retailers in high-income markets impose detailed specifications that define what is considered marketable. Produce that deviates from these parameters, even slightly, is excluded from export channels regardless of its nutritional quality. This system effectively prioritizes visual uniformity over edibility.

For producers these requirements create a structural dilemma. Because even minor imperfections can lead to rejection, farmers are compelled to overproduce as a form of risk management. To fulfill a contract for a fixed quantity of “Class A” produce, growers must account for the proportion of their harvest that will not meet these standards.

Evidence from Peru illustrates the scale of this dynamic. A case study from the REFRESH Project documents how cosmetic specifications imposed by export markets generate substantial losses at the farm level. In some crops, rejection rates range from 10 to 40 percent depending on quality requirements. In one instance, more than 3,500 tons of edible onions were discarded in a single year because they did not meet size or shape criteria. Citrus producers face even higher levels of uncertainty, with exportability rates for certain fruits dropping to around 50 percent. When local markets are unable to absorb this surplus, rejected produce is often left to decompose or is buried, as the cost of transport exceeds its potential value.

Price volatility further intensifies these losses. Agricultural markets are highly sensitive to fluctuations in supply and demand. Periods of overproduction can lead to sharp declines in prices, making it economically unviable to harvest or distribute crops. In such conditions, farmers may leave produce in the fields, not because it lacks demand in absolute terms, but because it cannot be sold at a price that covers production and distribution costs. This reflects a broader imbalance in which producers bear the risks of market instability while operating within constraints set by distant buyers.

The environmental implications of this upstream waste are significant. Food that is never consumed still embodies the full cost of its production. Water, fertilizers, land, and labor are expended regardless of whether the crop reaches the market. According to the Food and Agriculture Organization, agriculture accounts for a substantial share of global freshwater use, meaning that production losses translate directly into resource waste.

This is particularly evident in regions such as the Ica Valley in Peru, where large volumes of water are used to produce export crops that may ultimately be discarded due to market standards. Studies highlight that water-intensive food is wasted in areas already facing severe water stress, illustrating how food loss translates directly into inefficient use of scarce water resources.

The result is a system in which a significant share of food is filtered out at the very beginning of the supply chain. This upstream waste remains largely invisible to consumers, yet it forms a foundational part of the global food economy and sets the stage for further losses at the retail level.

The Retail Gatekeeper: Why Good Food Dies on the Shelf

While part of the global food waste crisis occurs on distant farms, it also continues in the climate-controlled aisles of supermarkets. In these regions, food waste is not caused by a lack of technology or storage capacity. Rather, it is the result of retail strategies that prioritize brand image, visually appealing displays, and risk avoidance over the actual consumption of food. Supermarkets function as the ultimate gatekeepers of the supply chain, and internal policies often mandate the disposal of large quantities of perfectly edible products.

One of the most significant drivers of this waste is the “aesthetic of abundance.” Retailers operate on the principle that overflowing shelves encourage purchases. This leads to a cycle of overstocking, particularly in produce, bakery, and deli sections. To maintain the appearance of abundance until closing time, stores stock more than they can reasonably expect to sell. In one case study of a supermarket in Poland, a single store generated 3.3 tonnes of food waste in just two weeks, with meat, fruits, and vegetables comprising more than half of the discarded volume. Often, it is cheaper for retailers to discard surplus than to risk a half-empty shelf affecting customer perception.

Date-label practices further exacerbate the problem. “Use By” dates indicate food safety, while “Best Before” dates refer only to quality. Many retail policies fail to distinguish between the two. Once a product reaches its “Best Before” date, it is frequently removed and discarded, even if it remains safe to consume. Research by WRAP shows that consumer confusion over date labels drives significant household waste, but the cycle begins with retailers, whose policies often prevent discounts or donations of items approaching these thresholds. Products such as yogurt, cheese, and bread are routinely disposed of despite being perfectly edible.

Policy interventions provide important examples of how this dynamic can be addressed. In 2016, France passed the Loi Garot, making it illegal for supermarkets over a certain size to destroy unsold food. Large grocers are now required to establish donation contracts with charities. Before the law, many stores destroyed edible products to prevent “dumpster diving.” While the legislation has increased food donations, over-ordering and waste at the retail level persist.

The retail system treats food as a high-volume, low-margin commodity where disposal functions as a routine inventory management tool. When a supermarket discards a crate of aged produce, it is not only wasting food. The energy, labor, water, and transportation that brought it to the shelf—including scarce water from Peru’s Ica Valley—is lost. The retail gatekeeper completes a cycle that began thousands of miles away, linking upstream overproduction to downstream disposal. By prioritizing a flawless shopping experience over resource efficiency, the system guarantees that millions of tonnes of food are grown, transported, and ultimately discarded.

Environmental Costs and Pathways Forward

The cumulative effect of waste at both ends of the supply chain is staggering. Globally, if food waste were a country, it would rank as the third-largest emitter of greenhouse gases, largely due to methane released from decomposing organic matter in landfills. Each discarded item carries the embedded energy, water, and labor that went into its production, transport, and storage. In regions like Peru’s Ica Valley, water scarcity is severe, yet millions of cubic meters are used annually to grow crops that never reach consumers. Similarly, fuel, fertilizer, and packaging invested in overproduced or rejected food in Latin America and the energy used to ship it thousands of miles to Europe or North America are effectively wasted, amplifying both carbon and resource footprints.

Addressing this dual-hemisphere crisis requires structural change. Shortening supply chains through direct-to-consumer models or subscription services for “ugly” produce allows farmers to sell imperfect but nutritious crops that would otherwise be discarded. Reforming cosmetic standards can significantly reduce waste at the production stage and ensure more food reaches markets while protecting both revenue and resources. On the retail side, clearer guidance on date labels and mandatory donation policies, such as France’s Loi Garot, can prevent edible food from being thrown away unnecessarily. Greater transparency in contracts between retailers and producers could reduce overproduction and distribute risk more evenly across the chain.

Reducing food waste is not a matter of isolated fixes but of rethinking the value of food. Each discarded item represents lost labor, water, energy, and land, resources concentrated in producing regions but wasted globally. Combining supply chain reforms, policy interventions, and consumer education can shift the system from a cycle of disposal to one that respects the true cost of food production. Tackling this challenge benefits both the environment and the communities that grow the food, creating a more equitable and sustainable global food system.

Sofia Kiryttopoulou is studying for a Bachelor’s Degree in Balkan, Slavic and Oriental Studies. Specialization: Politics and Law, at University of Macedonia | Thessaloniki, Greece.