Violence as a form of political action has been a central element in the domination of peoples in the Global South since the processes of colonization. To this day, these wars, militarization, and violence are, more often than not, ignored and made invisible by the hegemonic global media.
That being said, what is striking at this moment in time is how imperialist governments, with the United States at the forefront, are increasingly seeking to normalize wars, the militarization of territories, interventions in other countries, genocides, embargoes, blockades, sanctions, and so on. These violent actions would not be possible without the cooperation of the corporations that directly profit from them, such as the arms and oil industries.
Oil has been key among the pieces that move on these war chessboards. First, for the simple reason that all the machinery that fuels wars and the military occupation of territories depends on this energy source to function. But above all, because access to and control over oil reserves is fueling wars, not to mention that preventing access to oil has been used as a violent political pressure strategy.
Talking about the climate crisis might seem minor in this context, but it's not. Not only because burning oil is what most accelerates global warming, but also because of oil's importance to capitalism. Today, energy is understood by the majority as a commodity that is produced and centrally controlled by large corporations. This capitalist interpretation of energy turned oil into the main source of energy in capitalism. Oil has been decisive in the accumulation of ever more money and power. (1) In the quest to control strategic resources such as oil, imperialist governments, in collusion with corporations, provoke violence and wars, while simultaneously causing climate chaos and ecological crisis, the destruction of forests and the peoples who live in and care for them.
What stands out is the masculinity of the governments that are spreading wars, militarization, and terror around the world. Besides being led by men, almost always white, the way they conduct politics is steeped in patriarchal violence. It is worth highlighting that among the main victims of this system and its wars are women and children: they are the ones who face violence, sexual abuse, and destruction of the basic conditions for carrying out the important role of caregiving, which almost always falls on women.
We stand in solidarity with all people, especially women and children, who are resisting this violence as best they can. We emphasize that confronting the climate crisis implies questioning and transforming the accumulation logic of the capitalist system and the structures of patriarchal domination that feed on wars, militarization, and the destructive exploitation of bodies and territories.
At a time when we have just remembered and celebrated the struggle of women on International Women's Day, we reiterate our solidarity with the collective feminist struggles that defend life and pave the way to transform the power structures that violate bodies and territories and destroy living conditions.
The concept of sustainable development created in 1987 is based on the idea that development could meet human needs without compromising future generations’ ability to meet theirs. However, the past 40 years has revealed its anthropocentric and capitalist character. Moreover, capitalism and its constant need to expand has led to much more destruction. This has been the case in Indonesia with an economy based on the extractivism model, compromising the future of numerous grassroots communities.
Over the past few years, extractivism has particularly advanced towards coastal areas, the oceans and small islands in the archipelago. The main threats for these vulnerable areas include mining of nickel, rare earth minerals, iron sand and tin; building smelters for processing minerals and metals; building new export-oriented ports; expansion of the ‘energy’ industry with (gas and) steam power plants, hydroelectric and geothermal power plants; building of more infrastructure including toll roads; creation of ‘new land’ or grabbing islands through reklamasi plans, which means appropriation of space for private and public interests and benefits like corporate-led tourism; building of a giant ‘sea wall’ along the Northern coast of Java; and the aquaculture industry for large-scale fish and shrimp farming. Many, if not all of these projects are earmarked as ‘economic’ and ´sustainable development´ and some, more recently, as contributing to ´clean energy´ such as nickel mining for electric vehicle batteries.
These developments have significantly reduced the mangrove area in Indonesia, sacrificing livelihoods of traditional fishing communities. These communities are facing yet another threat: the current push of mangrove forest carbon projects, supposedly to restore mangrove forest already lost or heavily degraded.
Mangrove Forests in Indonesia
In 2020, according to Global Mangrove Watch (GMW), Indonesia had 3,092,376 hectares of mangrove forests, which represents 21 percent of the total area of mangroves worldwide. Southeast Asia is the region with most mangrove forest (33,6 percent) globally, followed by West and Central Africa (15,5 percent), North and Central America and the Carribean (14,4 percent), and South America (13,2 percent).
In many ways, life and livelihoods of coastal communities in Indonesia are interwoven with mangrove forests, ensuring food, medicine, building materials and other benefits. This is particularly the case for women. Their burden disproportionally increases when mangrove gets destroyed, one important reason that women are most often at the forefront of both resistance struggles against the grabbing of coastal areas, as well as efforts to restore mangrove forests. (1)
Mangroves play a very important role in protecting coastal areas against the effects of climate change. One example is the 2004 tsunami that hit Southeast Asia. In the location of Simeulue, Aceh in Indonesia and in Southern Thailand, residents were spared thanks to the presence of mangrove forests, proven to be a natural barrier effectively reducing tsunami waves. (2). The role of mangroves in protecting fishing communities also became evident in September 2018 when a tsunami hit Palu Bay, Central Sulawesi. (3)
Nevertheless, mangrove forests are still not fully recognized, let alone the rights of the communities that live with mangroves. While the Indonesian National Mangrove Map states that mangrove is present in all 38 provinces, from the 28 provincial governments that have adopted regulations about zonation of coastal areas, only 12 recognize the existence of mangrove forests, a total of 60,670 hectares. Meanwhile, the remaining 16 provinces do not even mention mangroves, putting these even more at risk. (4)
The threats of extractive industries: nickel mining
In Indonesia, destruction of mangrove forests is mainly due to expanding large-scale aquaculture and agriculture, such as industrial oil palm (5); infrastructure development; and mineral and metal mining and extraction, all with the full support of the government. What stands out is the extreme fast increase in nickel mining in the past few years.
Extractive industries have a long history of degrading and destroying mangrove forests. For instance, Indonesia´s off-shore oil extraction. During the oil spill in Balikpapan Bay in 2018 in East Kalimantan, oil, carried by the ebb and flow of the tide, accumulated on mangrove roots causing death of countless mangrove trees. Mangrove roots are extremely sensitive to oil deposits, and it is a hardly impossible task for communities to rehabilitate such contaminated mangrove areas.
Nowadays, nickel mining, concentrated in the Eastern part of Indonesia, has become a threat for fisher communities. Indonesia has become the world's leading nickel producer, in only a few years’ time. While in 2020, the country contributed with 30,72 percent of the global production, in 2024, it already supplied more than half of it: 62,26 percent. (6) The devastating impacts such as clearing of mangrove forests and the contamination of water with toxic materials, are not limited to mining activities only, but are even more severe due the related infrastructure development and facilities such as the construction of smelters for processing and refining raw mineral, that produce similar impacts. (7)
The government itself is further pushing the large-scale destruction due to its so-called ´hilirisasi´ policy. This policy intends to stimulate domestic processing of raw materials extracted in the country with the argument to add value inside the country, such as the building of smelters in the case of nickel mining. (8)
The threat of mangrove forest carbon projects.
The fact Indonesia accounts for 21 percent of the world's total mangrove area gives its government a special responsibility to lead the struggle to conserve mangroves and also to restore what has been destroyed, the latter a direct result of its own policies. But as aforementioned, the current trend is a continuation and intensification of massive land and ocean grabbing in the benefit of business interests.
But nevertheless, in recent years, an increased push by public and private actors for mangrove conservation is happening, in particular in Sumatra, Kalimantan and Sulawesi. These actors claim that their ´mangrove carbon´ projects and programmes will help to restore destroyed and degraded mangrove. But rather than a genuine concern about that and about mangrove-dependent communities, what seems to drive these actors is the business opportunity of carbon trading based on mangrove forests. In fact, they emphasize in their documents and statements the extraordinary carbon storage capacity of mangrove forests, according to studies several times bigger compared with land-based forests.
This growing trend of carbon initiatives in mangrove forest ignores the complete failure of almost 20 years of experience with forest carbon offsetting through so-called REDD programs and projects (9), in terms of mitigating climate change. Companies buying carbon credits from REDD projects continue burning fossil fuels further accelerating climate change. Besides, REDD projects have never tackled the underlying causes of deforestation and plagued by scandals of fraudulent carbon calculations and overestimating the so-called carbon benefits.
But forest carbon projects have not been a failure for all. They provide a cheap way for polluting companies to claim ´carbon neutrality´, and big NGOs, governments, consultancy and carbon companies are making money from the carbon business. The Indonesian government, for instance, had a USD 419 million-dollar loan from the World Bank approved in 2022 in support of its plan to restore 600 thousand hectares of mangrove forest in Indonesia, focusing on four provinces: Riau, North Sumatra, East and North Kalimantan. (10) A significant part of the project documents is dedicated to carbon calculations. The Indonesian Ministry of Environment itself states that rehabilitating mangroves is an opportunity for carbon offset initiatives and trading. (11)
In East Kalimantan, the World Bank program wants to restore 15,000 hectares of mangrove. In 2025, WRM talked with one fishpond farmer (12) in Kutai Kartanegara district who worked for the project. In 2023, he and other villagers accepted to collaborate, hoping their declining fish production would improve. The main activity was planting one type of tree – rizophora – to create a so-called silvofishery system in the fish ponds. He received some financial support to plant and maintain the trees during 3 years.
The fishpond farmer made critical remarks about the World Bank project. First, he complains it is a top-down project. For instance, villagers were not consulted about the project activities. He stated he would have proposed another method to restore the mangrove forest, based on his concern about the need to restore the buffer function of the mangrove because of the water contamination by extractive industries, in particular from oil extraction and coal transported on the near-by river and sea. He would also plant more types of trees, not just one, and, mentioned that many trees died due to a disease.
The dying of mangrove trees planted is also what apparently happened in one of the first voluntary private carbon projects in mangrove forest in Indonesia: the Livelihoods Fund Project, located on the east coast of Aceh and North Sumatra provinces. This project claims it has rebuilt a natural mangrove barrier of 5,000 hectares by planting 18 million mangrove tree seedlings in the period 2011-2014. (13) Developed by the Yagasu Foundation, what calls attention in the project´s propaganda beyond catchphrases, such as '20,000 people impacted', is the probable overestimation of carbon credits that the project has generated. A comparison of satellite images from 2009 and 2024 from more than 450 'planting plots' of the project, showed that less than 30 percent of the project area had mangrove trees in 2024. (14)
While facing the impacts of fossil oil extraction and the current wave of mangrove forest carbon projects, Indonesian coastal communities are also among those bearing the heaviest burden of climate change. Examples are reduced fishing periods and the increasing trend of natural disasters. (15) What´s worse, mangrove forest carbon projects do little to help mitigating climate change, when companies supporting the project, use that in their claims to become ´carbon neutral´ while they continue burning fossil oil, emitting more carbon dioxide to the atmosphere. Even worse when the trees planted to store carbon die. (16)
The experience of the Tiwoho community: growing mangroves without planting.
The village of Tiwoho is located in Bunaken National Marine Park, North Sulawesi Province. Mangrove in this area was destroyed in 1991 for commercial shrimp ponds. The Land Reclamation Agency (BRLKT) – an entity under the authority of the Ministry of Forestry at that time – facilitated the clearing of about 20 hectares of mangrove, despite the fact the area was supposed to be conserved due to its high level of biodiversity. (17)
But the company only operated the aquaculture facility for six months when it went bankrupt. It abandoned the shrimp farm infrastructure, leaving a degraded waterscape behind of dike walls built that had interrupted the natural connection between land and sea, allowing for tidal flushing.
Between 1995 and 2004, the Ministry of Forestry tried to reforest the 20-hectare abandoned pond area. Its approach was a classic example of conventional silviculture with 6 to 7 separate planting efforts during a 9-year period. The root cause of the failure was neglecting the importance of the tidal flushing, with no effort whatsoever to solve this by breaking the dikes or repair the clogged drainage system.
A turning point happened in October 2003. when villagers collectively descended upon the mudflats of the post-shrimp farm ecosystem. (18) First, they destroyed the dikes that blocked seawater circulation in the area. As a result, ocean waves periodically washed over the land, bringing in mangrove seeds and seedlings, dissolved nutrients, and suspended sediment material essential for land accretion. Second, they rehabilitated the drainage canals built before to drain the pond, to restore the natural water retention time in the area to prevent the ecological system from experiencing extreme drought during the lowest tidal cycle (neap tide).
Then, a network of small, winding waterways that simulate a natural estuary was excavated. This network of channels distributes the water flow to the landward zone. After that, the pond itself was refilled with water to facilitate mangrove colonisation by, while preventing saplings from sinking below a certain water level at high tide. (19). Besides, the community people agreed to periodically replant coastal mangrove propagules they happen to collect when scattering across the mangrove forest ‘floor’.
As a result, hundreds of families in Tiwoho Village can harvest now shallow marine fisheries such as crabs, obtain materials for herbal medicines. They also turned the recovered mangrove area into a centre for eco-tourism (KGK).
The Kinamang community experience: restoring sovereignty through restoring coral reef and mangrove
For the fisher people of Kinamang Village, Manado, in North Sulawesi, planting mangroves is much more than a matter of conservation, it is their means for survival. Amidst the onslaught of development that gradually grabbed and destroyed coral reefs and their fishing grounds, the community resisted, restoring their living space.
Their experience of community restoration starts in 2019, when the government planned to build a coastal protection infrastructure to ‘break’ fierce waves before they reach the coastline. But the community protested because the infrastructure threatened to displace their boat moorings. The residents put pressure to the government to move the infrastructure further away into the sea.
Their strategy worked and the government built the ´breakwater´ further into the sea. As a result, a 'calm' water area got created between the ´breakwater´ and the coast. Besides ensuring a safe zone for mooring their boats, the Kinamang community through the Kinamang Coastal Fisher people forum discussed and organized a two-fold strategy (20). First, they ‘engaged with the sea’ by restoring coral reefs creating a ´front line´, realizing that coral is the ´home´ for fish, the backbone of their economy. By restoring the reefs, the fish species, many of which had been lost, ‘returned home’, and people also realized they were also indireclty reclaiming their traditional fishing grounds. Then secondly, the Kinamang community ‘engaged with the sea shore’, the land just behind the coral reefs. They restored mangrove forest by planting deep-rooted mangrove species as a shield against erosion.
Although more than once storms destroyed the reef structures and tidal waves swept away the young mangrove seedlings, giving up was not an option for the people of Kinamang. They invented and built additional protective structures to give the mangroves and corals time to grow and take root on the seabed. After six years, the efforts finally paid off. The initially fragile mangroves transformed into a lush, sturdy green belt. The intertwining roots were securing and reinforcing Kinamang’s sovereignty against the threats of erosion and encroachment. And beneath the sea, coral reefs thrive, weaving again together in a once destroyed living space but now inviting various marine species to return home.
Pari Island: women at the forefront in a struggle for climate justice and mangrove conservation
The villagers of Pari Island, North of Indonesian´s capital Jakarta, are among the four million people in Indonesia increasingly facing flooding, in particular resulting from rising sea levels due to climate change. That is why in 2022, four villagers took legal action against one of the major emitters of carbon dioxide in the world and hence a major responsible for the increasing floods the community is facing: the Swiss-based Holcim cement corporation. (21) In December, 2025, in an unprecedent decision, a Swiss court declared the case admissible, clearing the way for an assessment of the merits. (22)
Along with the flooding, the villagers of Pari have been facing over the years many other threats including sand mining and ´reklamasi´ projects, heavily affecting the island and its mangrove forests. The last in 2015, when most of their island was privatized for corporate-led tourism by a company called PT Bumi Pari Asri, a subsidiary of the Bumi Raya Utama group. As a result, the community has been facing violence, criminalization and imprisonment.
What calls attention, in Pari and many communities in Indonesia is that women have been at the forefront of resistance. Part of that resistance is replanting mangrove and seaweed according to their traditional conservation practices transforming the area into a new ‘eco-tourism’ site on Pari Island called ‘Pantai Rengge’ as a tribute to their friend Rengge. (23). Every Friday afternoon, the women of Pari Island collectively go to the plots where they cultivate vegetables, then they will clean the beach, and plant new mangrove seedlings. The revenue from the vegetable harvest and ecotourism activities are equally distributed among every member of the Women of Pari Island group. One of the women expressed what they want like this: “We fisher women do not expect anything fancy, or anything branded. We just want to live here as coastal people, as Island people, in harmony with the sea and entire eco-system”. (24)
National Secretariat of the People's Coalition for Fisheries Justice (KIARA) and WRM International Secretariat
In 2020, WRM denounced and warned about a report by the African Development Bank (AfDB) and WWF Kenya. The report called on financial institutions to support the establishment of 500,000 hectares of new tree monocultures in sub-Saharan Africa, while ignoring the harmful, often violent, impacts that these plantations have on grassroots communities. (1) The report also recommended the creation of new funding mechanisms to generate more profits for investors. This article looks at the extent to which these recommendations have materialized since then, and reports on recent investments in industrial tree plantations and the expansion of this activity in Africa.
Recent investments and financial mechanisms pushing for the expansion of tree monocultures
In recent years, public and private institutions have invested in the expansion of industrial tree plantations in Africa to boost their profits. The following three initiatives offer some insight into how the business works – that is, who is putting money where, how, and for what purpose.
Africa Sustainable Forestry Fund – ASFF (operated by Criterion African Partners)
In 2019, when the aforementioned AfDB–WWF Kenya report was published, the US-based private company, Criterion Africa Partners (CAP), described itself as “the largest private investor in Africa’s sustainable forestry sector”. (2) Since then, through its Africa Sustainable Forestry Fund (ASFF II), CAP has administered 150 million in investments. Some of these investments have come from the AfDB, whilst the lion’s share has come from governments in the Global North through their financial institutions – such as the European Investment Bank (EIB), FMO (Netherlands), BIO (Belgium), FinDev Canada (Canada). (3)
Available data indicate that CAP currently controls at least 135,000 hectares of industrial eucalyptus, pine, and teak plantations across several countries in Africa – including South Africa, Tanzania, Mozambique, Uganda, Ghana, Gabon, and Namibia. (4) More recently in 2025, CAP announced a new fundraising round to establish a new investment instrument, the AFSS III, (5) which aims to raise USD 180 million. It has already secured USD 30 million from the Dutch development bank FMO. (6)
African Forestry Impact Platform – AFIP (operated by New Forests group)
Another recent and major initiative was the creation of the African Forestry Impact Platform (AFIP) in 2022. The AFIP is backed by a USD 200 million investment from the governments of Norway, Finland, and the United Kingdom via their development finance institutions. AFIP is managed by New Forests, one of the world’s largest private managers of land and industrial tree plantations, overseeing more than USD 8 billion in assets and more than 4 million hectares globally. (7)
AFIP’s first act was to acquire Green Resources, a company that proclaims itself to be “East Africa’s largest 'forest' development and wood processing company”. (8) Green Resources’s long track record of violations against rural communities in Tanzania, (9) Uganda (10) and Mozambique (11) seems to be irrelevant to its new owners and northern investors. More recently in 2025, AFIP acquired another timber plantation company, Rance, thereby expanding its operations to South Africa (12) and increasing its range of control to over 50,000 hectares of eucalyptus and pine monocultures.
ASC Impact Forestry Fund (operated by Nixdorf Impact Movement Management)
A third relevant and recent initiative was the launch of the ASC Impact Forestry Fund in 2022 by the Austrian Kirchmayer family. ASC Impact has already raised over USD 40 million and currently controls over 60,000 hectares of tree monocultures in Ethiopia, the Republic of Congo and Angola. (13) It aims to increase its fund to USD 200 million and expand its plantation area to up to 150,000 hectares. (14) ASC has promised investors an annual return of 20 percent. This seems to be a risky gamble, given that ASC has already started to fuel distrust among indigenous communities in Ethiopia due to its lack of transparency and unclear consent processes. Communities fear that the initiative will lead to dispossession and loss of their livelihoods. (15)
What do these corporate proposals have in common?
None of the initiatives above, or others that we came across when writing this article, corresponds exactly to the funding model that WWF Kenya and AfDB called for in 2019. Nevertheless, a comparison of the financial architecture of the three proposals reveals that they do have some aspects in common. What stands out, for instance, is the fact that the three investment initiatives are registered in tax havens: ASFF, which was initially registered in Canada, is now registered in Mauritius; (16) AFIP is registered in Singapore; (17) and ASC is registered in Switzerland. (18) These three tax havens offer some of the most favorable conditions for enabling corporate tax abuse – the artificial reduction of corporations’ taxable profits to low, or zero, tax. (19) This means that governments lose revenue that could fund public services, in particular in the countries where the economic activity actually occurs.
Another aspect that these three initiatives have in common – and which is also shared by WWF Kenya and AfDB – is their vision of planting trees in Africa. They use the following arguments: the market opportunities for timber products are immense because global demand is on the rise (a demand that is actually triggered, at least in part, by a permanent corporate lobby – as WRM has alerted about in a recent paper); (20) Africa’s vast and cheap 'empty lands' are a promising ground for profitable long-term investments; “any domestic production expansion would be beneficial” for Africa; (21) and, finally, the climate crisis presents the opportunity to multiply investments and increase profits through carbon and biodiversity credits. The project documents of the companies involved read more like propaganda leaflets to attract or justify investments than serious sources of information about the context of the expansion of industrial plantations in Africa. Their strategy has nevertheless succeeded in mobilising money from the Global North for investments in industrial plantations in Africa, with the three investment funds mentioned above raising almost USD 500 million to date.
With such significant amounts of money flowing from the Global North towards the expansion of tree monocultures in Africa, has the area of these industrial plantations increased at the expected pace?
What has actually expanded?
One way to describe the expansion of industrial tree plantations is the way international institutions, such as FAO, typically do: in terms of hectares. Another way to talk about the expansion of industrial plantations is to cite the multiplication of conflicts with, and the violence against, communities that are facing the invasion of monocultures in their territories. We will discuss this later in the article.
In terms of area, the FAO data indicate that, between 2020 and 2025, the area of commercial tree plantations in Africa has grown by nearly 600,000 hectares. (22) Africa is home to the second largest expansion after Asia. Breaking this down by region, the increase has taken place mainly in Sub-Saharan Africa, particularly in Western and Central African countries, where the total tree plantation area surpassed that of Southern and Eastern Africa. Both regions have exceeded 5 million hectares, as shown in the chart, while the total area on the continent in 2025 was 11.8 million hectares, according to the FAO figures.
At the country level (see map), the data show that the significant expansion of industrial plantations in Western and Central Africa has not been driven by one country or just a few specific countries; rather, it appears to be a widespread phenomenon. Meanwhile, in Eastern and Southern Africa, the increase was concentrated in Mozambique, Ethiopia and Uganda.
Table – Dynamics of commercial tree plantations by country between 2020 and 2025:*
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*Only countries with a plantation area greater than 15,000 hectares were colored. For countries where the area changed by less than 1 percent, it was considered that the area remained the same (yellow).
A violent narrative with violent consequences
The FAO data indicate that the 500,000-hectare expansion that the AfDB and WWF Kenya predicted in 2019 for countries in Sub-Saharan Africa has basically materialized. While the reliability of this data is uncertain, what ‘is’ certain is that the lands where the trees have been planted were not 'readily available' – as WWF Kenya and AfDB claim. After all, the ‘myth of land abundance’ ignores the fact that areas often labelled as ‘vacant’ commonly support grazing, shifting agriculture, foraging, cultural practices, and other fundamental aspects of traditional rural communities. (23) In other words, this land is far from empty, among other reasons because it is fertile – and therefore in the interest of plantation investors.
This corporate way of referring to the land in Africa – which is, ironically the continent with the highest share of its population living and depending on rural areas (nearly 80percent in several countries) – reflects the same spirit and intentions of the investment initiatives mentioned earlier in this article. This is a way of viewing a given territory whereby, if it is not yet producing commodities linked to capitalist markets, it is considered ‘readily available’ for capitalist ventures. In the non-publicised calculations of the investors, it may well be that the conflicts arising from plantation initiatives, as well as the communities themselves, are simply omitted or included in the investment matrix as 'risks' or 'costs'.
Community struggles and resistance
The practical consequence of such a vision is that industrial plantations cannot expand without generating conflicts. It is not a coincidence that the recent growth in the area of tree monocultures in Africa has been directly associated with several community struggles reported over the past five years.
In Tanzania, in the districts of Iringa, Mufindi and Kilombero, eucalyptus and pine plantations that have been promoted as a climate ‘solution’ and operated by Green Resources – now owned by the African Forestry Impact Platform (AFIP) – continue to be associated with illegal land appropriation, deforestation, destruction of grazing lands, land conflicts, food insecurity and unfulfilled promises. These impacts deepen the impoverishment and social disintegration of affected communities. (24)
In Gabon, in the province of Haut-Ogooué, the company Sequoia has claimed to have obtained 60,000 hectares to establish a eucalyptus monoculture project aimed at selling carbon credits. Despite the local communities’ rejection of the project, and the absence of free, prior and informed consultation, the project developers continue moving it forward. (25)
In Sierra Leone, in the Port Loko district, the company Carbon Done Right – which plans to establish 25,000 hectares of industrial tree plantations for the carbon market – has violated customary land rights and disregarded people’s right to free, prior and informed consent, according to research conducted with residents of 25 villages from the area. (26)
In Mozambique, in the provinces of Zambézia and Manica, there are persistent problems, such as land grabbing, the drying up of water sources, precarious labor conditions, and unfulfilled promises made by Portucel (a subsidiary of the European pulp and paper company The Navigator Company). (27) Tired of living surrounded and boxed in by eucalyptus trees, communities have united to fight back against the impacts of monoculture plantations. (28) The women in these communities have taken the lead by starting to reclaim plots previously occupied by eucalyptus in order to grow food.
Examples like the ones above show how plantations introduce different forms of violence, which communities continue to face as these monocultures increasingly invade their territories. But these examples also reveal that in many places communities are fighting back to defend and reclaim their lands.
'Restoration of degraded land': a misleading idea used to promote tree monocultures
Finally, it is important to highlight a misleading argument that is used to support the expansion of tree monocultures, particularly in Africa: the idea that these plantations contribute to the 'restoration of degraded lands'. First, there is not a single definition of 'degraded land'; it varies not only in biophysical terms, but also in terms of the perception, values, and objectives of the speaker. For a community that has built a relationship with land over generations – using a system that, at some point, outsiders labelled shifting or fallow agriculture – it does not make sense to assess its lands solely according to the parameters of 'modern agriculture'. Especially when 'modern agriculture' means to be highly dependent on synthetic chemical inputs, heavy machinery, and modified seeds.
Within the logic of corporate agriculture, the only parameter that matters in assessing land is how much monetary wealth it is producing or could produce. Therefore, in order to access the areas where they want to establish their monocultures, industrial tree plantation companies analyse soil fertility, water sources, and proximity to infrastructure, such as roads and ports. Simultaneously, they seek to influence land-use policies and government plans. They often look for land classified as 'underutilised', which usually belongs to communities. This land is not fully under cultivation, because part of it has been given time to recover its fertility – or perhaps it is used for hunting, fishing, gathering of food or medicinal plants, and cultural and spiritual practices. However, companies and governments tend to consider such land use systems as unproductive and claim that “sustainable forestry today means cultivating trees [monocultures] on previously degraded land”, as repeatedly stated in the British International Investment report. (29)
In other words, such companies are primarily interested in profits, which require the highest possible production through monocultures that, in turn, depend on fertile lands. It is true that there are lands that are naturally less suitable for agriculture (for example, lands that have undergone salinization or acidification processes, poorly drained soils, or regions with limited water availability), but these are not the ‘degraded lands’ that companies are looking for. In practice, the main function of the argument about restoring degraded lands is to conceal the land grabbing and the displacement of communities. Moreover, the very idea of restoring degraded soils through large-scale monocultures that inevitably reduce biodiversity and dry up springs and streams should, in itself, be considered a contradiction.
Final remarks
The expansion of industrial tree monocultures in sub-Saharan Africa must be understood as part of a broader dynamic of land control and resource extraction in the global South, driven by actors from the Global North. Behind the discourse of ‘sustainable forestry’ and ‘restoration’, Northern financial institutions, development banks and private investors continue to channel large sums of money into projects in Southern countries that concentrate land, displace communities and deepen existing conflicts. The current expansion of industrial tree plantations in sub-Saharan Africa reveals that colonial patterns persist as a defining feature throughout the implementation of this activity. Yet, across the continent, communities continue to denounce land grabbing and defend their territories, reaffirming that their lands are neither ‘empty,’ nor available for external profit-making ventures.
The Andean Patagonian Forest in southwestern Argentina was ablaze again. Between December 2025 and March 2026, more than 77,000 hectares burned in the provinces of Neuquén, Río Negro, Chubut and Santa Cruz. (1) Entire families watched flames surround their homes, while they tried to save what they could: work tools, animals, and a lifetime of memories. Hundreds of houses were reduced to twisted metal sheets and blackened foundations.
This came after the immense damage caused by fires the previous summer, when at least 32,000 hectares burned; a large portion of this land was in the interface zones between rural and urban areas. (2) In the town of Epuyén, in Chubut, the fire that started in a vast area of exotic pine trees consumed more than 70 homes the first day, January 15, 2025. Families from Mallín Ahogado, 60 kilometers to the north, were amongst those who came to help out; two weeks later, they had to stop helping in Epuyén and organize to face another massive fire in their own territory, which had broken out in an area covered with Oregon pine trees. “The fire rapidly approached our area, fueled by intense gusts of wind, and also by the stands of pine trees – which are more abundant to the east. It destroyed everything in its path,” recalls Darío Anden, a resident. The fire claimed one life and destroyed 370 structures – including homes, barns, sheds, orchards, vegetable farms, and animals. It burned for almost two months and wiped out almost 4,000 hectares. (3)
One of the main factors that increases the intensity of fires each year are monoculture pine plantations, which have become a plague in the Argentinian Patagonia. Not only are pine trees highly flammable, but fire also causes pine seeds to germinate. Therefore, each fire contributes to the spread of more fires. (4) Pine trees also absorb a lot of groundwater. Numerous accounts and studies show that springs have dried up, and river flows have dropped by more than 60 percent when watersheds become covered in pine trees. (5)
According to official figures, there are currently around 116,000 hectares of monoculture tree plantations in the Andean Patagonia, of which 90 percent are pine plantations. Most of these are located in the provinces of Neuquén, Rio Negro and Chubut (6). And it is not only the pine plantations that invade territories. Pine trees are an invasive species in this region, they spread far beyond the plantations where pine trees have been planted. In some areas, invasive pine trees cover larger areas than those initially planted to set up the monoculture plantations.
The establishment of monoculture plantations began in the 1960s, when forests started to be replaced with plantations of fast-growing exotic trees through forestry programs and subsidies promoted by provincial and national governments. At first, the claimed purpose was to reduce the logging pressure on native forests; later, the goal was to supply a future pulp industry. In recent decades, the establishment of plantations has been driven by the government’s commitment to carbon markets. Pine plantations have frequently served as a pretext to appropriate and privatize public lands and expel their inhabitants. (7)
Many plantations have been abandoned, left without supervision or maintenance. These abandoned plantations spread much more rapidly than native forests, becoming a dangerous fuel source.
During the fires of 2021, Mirta Ñancunao of the Mapuche community of Las Huaytekas in Río Negro explained what pine trees mean for her People: “Those of us who still remain in the territory have clear evidence and experiences of imposition, subjugation, abuse, expropriation, forced displacement, legal proceedings, modification of habitats, disruption of ecosystems and water sources, loss of grazing lands for animals, loss of spaces from which to collect lawen [Mapuche medicine], fruits and firewood.” (8) In November of that year, the young 29-year-old Mapuche man, Elías Garay Cayicol, was murdered while participating in the recovery of ancestral territory in the province of Río Negro. Two men with ties to forestry businessman Rolando Rocco were convicted of the crime. (9)
Every time there is a fire, the State tends to criminalize the Mapuche People. (10) This summer, while the fires were still raging, Ignacio Torres, the governor of Chubut, launched a media campaign with his aides that blamed Mapuche communities for the fires. Social organizations, residents and local leaders swiftly denounced these baseless accusations. (11) Such accusations sought, on the one hand, to criminalize communities and their struggle for their ancestral territories; and on the other hand, to deflect attention from the debate about the conditions that really do lead to fires: pine tree monoculture plantations; the lack of public policies to manage exotic tree plantations and prevent fires; and the lack of financing for policies to protect native forests. (12) All of this has occurred against the backdrop of climate crisis with recurring droughts.
Below, we present accounts from members of affected communities that show how, in the face of scarce or absent state assistance, community organizing has been essential in combatting fires and carrying out reconstruction efforts. These accounts were written by people from mountain villages in the province of Chubut, the province hardest hit by recent fires; they are members of neighborhood assemblies and a solidarity network that grows stronger every day.
Puerto Patriada: The start and spread of the fire
An account by Gabriel Verge.
On January 5, 2026, a forest fire broke out in the area of Puerto Patriada, a region full of young pine trees that had already burned years ago. The fire spread rapidly along both slopes bordering Lake Epuyén, destroying thousands of hectares of the Andean Patagonian Forest and dozens of residents’ homes. In a few days, the fire had spread to the neighboring towns of Epuyén, Lago Puelo, El Maitén and Cholila.
A few months before the fire – and despite the drought, the extremely precarious state of the power lines, and the uncontrolled accumulation of trash and pine trees throughout the territory – local authorities granted clearance for a large number of tourist resorts and campgrounds in the town of El Hoyo. These newly approved establishments invaded the lake’s shoreline with their construction. Among these sites, almost 300 bonfires burned simultaneously and continuously during the New Year’s celebrations, without any effective supervision. There was clear mismanagement, and so it was just a matter of time before a disaster occurred.
While the exact cause of the fire could not be established, the combination of preexisting conditions only needed one spark to unleash a disaster. The firefighters and local brigades were overwhelmed by the magnitude of the fire, and they could not contain it. The dense pine stands that had re-sprouted after the previous fires served as kindling for the rapid expansion of this conflagration. This marked a clear and precise path for the fire, which left a scar on the landscape and in our hearts.
Once the fire broke out, another serious problem came to light: the water crisis. The provincial and municipal governments had ordered shut-offs in the population’s water supply. Several spots affected by the fire did not have water with which to defend their homes – simply because no water came out of the tap. Since the banks of the Epuyén River had been privatized and blocked off with fences and gates, this prevented firefighters and voluntary brigades from accessing the area to refill their water supplies – which further delayed the response.
At this point in the emergency, hundreds of residents decided to evacuate / to leave the area. Others became voluntary firefighters and organized in networks of support and solidarity to try to put out the fire and make up for the absence of the government.
Within a few days, the fire that had started in Puerto Patriada had already spread. What burned were not just pine trees and native forests housing a wealth of biodiversity – including the huemul (an endangered species designated as a Natural Monument), the austral pygmy owl, and condors' nests. In addition to consuming their homes, means of production, and livelihoods, the fire also consumed people’s sense of identity – those places where daily life unfolds, as well other places with unique and irreplaceable historical and cultural value, such as prehistoric paintings.
The problem does not end with the fire. The reconstruction of burned houses is ongoing, sustained by the spirit and the hands of solidarity networks that are not going to wait for the government to fulfill its promises. These networks know the government's assistance and reparations are limited, selective and discriminatory.
Epuyén: community organization during and after the fire
Account compiled by Aguayala (13)
The aerial combat deployed by the state and several fire departments was far from sufficient to contain all of the fronts where the fire was spreading. In the face of this situation, neighborhood fire brigades formed, bolstered by voluntary firefighters who arrived from other parts of the country.
These are the words of Eliseo Juan Ignacio Avella, “El Mago” (The Magician), a firefighter who came from Buenos Aires to help fight the fires in the Argentinian Patagonia. “Love and tenderness are the greatest revolution that a volunteer can experience. All of that pain of nature burning, that helplessness turned into courage, that effort to climb a little higher up the mountain to reach the fire and combat the disaster that hurts us so much...we are evolving because of everything that challenges us. So our tools are a water backpack, a chainsaw, a Pulaski, or a Derki tool (special tools, or hoes, that firefighters use to cut roots or remove hot ash).” He goes on: “We face fears and physical pain for the common good: to see the forests green again and communities living from the sustenance they provide. Nothing will stop us, because love always wins; it is the best ally for hope, which many lose due to exhaustion. But there are beings of light who come and give their all and later return to their homelands. Those beings are volunteer firefighters from all over the country, and the world, too. Thank you all for opening your hearts with humility and humanity.”
In the affected community of Epuyén, neighbors acting in solidarity organized all of the activities necessary to manage the disaster. The building of an educational institution, which was made available during the summer vacation months, served as the operations center. ‘Relief Zones’ were created, where different holistic therapies – such as reiki, Chinese Medicine, massages, and healing – were offered to the rescue workers when they returned at the end of the day. A coordinated network of herbalists, naturopaths and gardeners received and prepared herbal medicines and different products to provide first aid to those who needed it.
The community kitchen, which had operated throughout 2025, continued to prepare meals for the various fronts where the fire was being fought. Additionally, they prepared meals for the reconstruction work parties that began once a fire was put out. It is worth noting that we received support and solidarity from nearby and distant cities, in the form of financial contributions, clothing, tools, and construction materials. It is also worth highlighting the enormous dedication of volunteers from across the country, who were housed in the municipal gymnasium or welcomed free of charge at campsites.
It was also important to have spaces from which to coordinate the logistics required for all of the aforementioned areas, as well as spaces to supply and repair chainsaws and electric pumps, and receive food and donations for the affected people.
Thanks to the smooth coordination among volunteer and professional firefighters, the Provincial Forestry Department, the National Fire Management Plan and other agencies, there were no deaths or injuries to mourn.
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Brigade members and volunteer participants in community work efforts
El Maitén: “We know we are not alone”
Account by Aymara Bares, from Petü Mogeleiñ, the Mapuche community radio station
Fires started early this year in El Maitén, in the province of Chubut, but the community response was faster than in previous years. We are learning! On January 8, the fire began to engulf Cerro Pirque, consuming forest and homes in its path. The siege lasted for weeks and left half of the area in shades of brown, black and grey. During those days, key checkpoints were set up at strategic locations. The people of El Maitén organized to help, either as volunteer firefighters, or by providing food and supplies to those who were putting their bodies on the line. We also spent several days monitoring the situation to make sure the fire did not cross the highway and put the town at risk. Unfortunately, pine tree corridors enable the spread of fire.
Cintia, a comrade who has participated in the volunteer firefighting campaigns, says: “A long time ago we realized that we have to defend Ñuke Mapu. (14) That is why we take every training course we can throughout the year, waiting for summer and the next fire. We know that we are not alone, and that it is never the last battle against the fire. We know that, with every forecast of rain, relief teams are already organizing; we know that there are people cooking all day to sustain us; we know that, in some part of the country, someone is hitchhiking to come help.
“If you feel like crying—because your head is spinning from all the smoke, fire, sleeplessness, and vigilance, or from missing your family back home – there are always hugs available, usually from people you have just met, but who look at you and are on the same frequency, in the same struggle, with the same determination to not let up until we know we have given our all to defend our homes and native trees.
“And what we cannot save? We rebuild! Around here we have been using the verb ‘minguear’ a lot. Mingas (collective work parties) are an opportunity to provide hope, to join forces, to get our hands dirty, to get excited about every step forward, and to celebrate every pine tree that we remove – and from which our resilience blossoms. Because we are Küme che (good people). We do not burn the forest, we defend it. Rume mañum.” (15)
Los Alerces National Park: the days of the fire
Account by Nicolás Palacios, from Luan, Photographic Action Collective
The smoke takes a long time to clear from the mountain. Even after the flames have been put out, it remains suspended between the hills like a recent memory. This is a familiar scene: blackened forests, trunks still smoldering, and residents walking amongst the hot ashes, looking for hot spots that could reignite the fire.
For days, firefighters, volunteers, residents and self-organized groups battled several active fire fronts amid rugged mountains, changing winds and high temperatures. From the air, helicopters and water-bombing planes dumped water on patches of fire that, from the ground, seemed interminable.
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Firefighters in the Andean-Patagonian Forest (Photo: Nicolás Palacios/Colectiva de Acción Fotográfica)
The fire was moving rapidly. In a matter of hours, it could travel down a canyon, cross a road and climb back up the opposite slope. For those on the ground, the day was measured in meters gained or lost against a fire front that never seemed to stop altogether. And in many areas, the fire found a silent ally: the pine trees. Stands of pine trees burn with a ferocious intensity. Many firefighters describe it simply: when fire enters a stand of pine trees, the fire transforms.
After several weeks, once the fire was finally controlled, the landscape fell silent. The mountain was dark, the smell of burnt wood persistent.
The fire in Los Alerces National Park was sparked by a lightning that struck in a hard-to-reach area. The mayor – who was too busy evicting a Mapuche community – had declined the assistance offered to him by firefighters from neighboring towns. This delay allowed the fire to spread beyond the boundaries of the Park. The fire spread for weeks in many directions, placing neighboring towns at risk and burning more than 26,000 hectares of forest; it eventually merged with a fire that had started in Patriada, to the north. Only the massive efforts of volunteers in combination with state resources prevented further damage. The show of solidarity stood in stark contrast to the state’s slow response.
Days after the last embers were put out, neighbors, friends and volunteers began to arrive. Trucks arrive loaded with donations, shared tools, and hands ready to rebuild walls. In many cases, the homes are rebuilt collectively, in community work parties in which everyone contributes what they can. Some cut wood, others erect structures, while still others prepare food for those working all day. Amidst yerba mate, dust, and hammers, homes begin to take shape. In the Andean Region, this approach has a long-standing tradition: when someone loses everything, the community comes together.
After a fire occurs in the Patagonian mountain range, there is always more than just devastation left behind. The memory of the disaster remains, but so does the determination of those who rebuild their lives in the same place where the flames tried to wipe them out.
From Cholila: the green escaping the fire in Sara Miranda’s painting
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Let’s take out the pine trees!
There have long been warnings that subsidizing pine tree plantations in a context of global warming is tantamount to sowing the seeds of future catastrophes – like the ones we are experiencing with increasing frequency. Studies indicate that forest fires in Patagonia will significantly increase in the first half of the 21st century. They have also warned that the continuous planting of non-native, flammable trees will increase the reach and severity of extreme fires – a hypothesis that we have seen come true. (16) Every fire generates more combustible material: where there were 1,000 pine trees per hectare before a fire, there may now be 20,000 and even more than 100,000 new sprouts after a fire. (17)
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Pine regrowth after the January 2025 fire in the pine plantations of Epuyén
Pine trees spread beyond the boundaries of the original plantations, into neighboring fields and road shoulders. They grow faster than native trees – both because of their capacity to draw water from deep within the ground, and because they release substances that inhibit the growth of native species. In this way, pine trees choke and crowd out native species, creating corridors of highly flammable material.
A growing number of people are becoming aware of the need to control this green invasion. Community work parties, sometimes with more than 30 neighbors participating, have sprung up here and there to remove the pine trees – whether by hand, with saws or chainsaws, or by girdling the trees so they dry out while still standing. Pine seeds will continue to germinate for up to four years after a fire, so this task will need to be repeated in the coming years.
Unfortunately, even as the territorial degradation caused by plantations becomes increasingly evident, the government and the private sector continue to promote these plantations – even seeking to transform the region into a timber-exporting region. (18) But the mingas and strong community organization continue to sow the seeds of and build other possible worlds.
This collaborative work was compiled by Aguayala, a collective dedicated to research, advocacy and action on water as a common good, in Abya Yala (19).
