Focus on Arts and Ecology

UN nuclear watchdog chief Rafael Grossi on why he believes direct engagement is the only path to peace – and why he wants to lead the UN. 

By Julian Reingold, April 7, 2026

Rafael Grossi has spent the past six years at the centre of the world’s most dangerous nuclear standoffs – and now he wants the world’s most demanding diplomatic job.

The 65-year-old Argentine has led the International Atomic Energy Agency (IAEA), the UN’s nuclear watchdog, since 2019. In that time, he has navigated the decline of the Iran nuclear deal, negotiated ceasefires between Russia and Ukraine, and has found himself at the centre of a war that is redrawing the politics of nuclear risk, energy and global trade.

This has led to threats from Iranian officials and Austrian intelligence has provided him with round-the-clock protection. He has pressed on regardless, maintaining inspectors inside Iran and contact with all sides. It is precisely this record of showing up and talking to everyone that he is now putting forward as his qualification for the biggest job in multilateral diplomacy.

Late last year, Argentina officially nominated Grossi to succeed António Guterres as UN secretary-general for the 2027-2031 term.

Dialogue Earth sat down with him last week in Vienna at IAEA’s headquarters to talk about shaking hands with Vladimir Putin, depoliticising the energy challenge, and why energy security, climate diplomacy and nuclear politics can no longer be kept in separate boxes.

The interview has been lightly edited for length and clarity.

Dialogue Earth: Is the world closer to a nuclear incident?

Rafael Grossi: This conflict has its trigger in the questions around Iran’s nuclear program, which has been a concern for more than two decades. The 2015 JCPOA agreement – a framework to limit Iran’s nuclear activities – was abandoned by US President Trump in his first term, opening a period of growing tension. Last June, the so-called 12 day war became the first direct military confrontation between the United States and Iran, targeting facilities related to uranium enrichment, which could be used to manufacture nuclear weapons.

Now, a few months on, we are in the midst of a new conflict with a wider scope – destruction of energy infrastructure, political and spiritual leaders targeted, and continued pressure on nuclear sites. What concerns me most is that this has paradoxically enhanced the sentiment that nuclear weapons are a security guarantee. Some speculate that had Iran had nuclear weapons, this would never have happened. That logic is spreading to other countries around the world, and that is deeply worrying. There is also the risk of a nuclear accident – not from weapons, but from a nuclear facility being struck and releasing radioactive material, as happened in Chernobyl last year.

Would you be doing anything differently if you were already UN secretary-general?

One fundamental gap I see in the UN is the absence of the secretary-general from the resolution of major international conflicts: Iran, Gaza, India-Pakistan, Yemen, South Sudan. In all of them, the secretary-general is not present as interlocutor or mediator. My experience at the IAEA allowed me to establish platforms of dialogue with Russia’s President Putin, Ukraine’s President Zelensky, the Iranian government, Israel, and the United States. That approach – direct, persistent engagement – is what the secretary-general should be doing.

Is that capacity to create dialogue part of your suitability for the role?

I fervently believe in the capacity of the human factor to change things. Empathy, commitment, passion, knowledge of history and strategy; these matter enormously. We Argentines are the result of a melting pot. There are no hard distinctions. That may help.

Some have criticised me for not condemning certain leaders more forcefully. But if I open a conversation by calling someone a war criminal, I become useless as a peacemaker. The first time I went to Russia to speak with President Putin was in 2022. Some told me not to go. I said: if I don’t talk to him, to whom should I talk? When someone asks how I can shake hands with that person, I say: you must. It is for others to judge. If you are in the business of peace, you must talk to those who are at war.

We live in a culture of cancellation, where people who disagree refuse to speak. The diplomat’s job is to bring them together. Here at the IAEA, we are deployed at the Zaporizhzhia nuclear power plant, on the frontline between Ukrainian and Russian forces. I have been there several times. We have negotiated six ceasefire agreements between Russia and Ukraine to carry out critical repairs. To negotiate a ceasefire, you must sit down with very difficult military commanders.

Is the Iran conflict an opportunity to make the case for renewables as energy security, not just a climate issue?

Energy transition is easier said than done. Economic structures and supply chains in many countries are heavily dependent on fossil fuels. I remember a conversation with Prime Minister Modi, who described how many hundreds of millions of people in India work in the coal sector. When you are responsible for 1.4 billion people, shutting down coal overnight is not so simple.

The 1.5C target of the Paris Agreement is a victim of many things: the inherent difficulty of transition, and now the volatility created by this conflict. But the overall direction is not wrong, and we are seeing results. The nuclear renaissance is one of them, driven in large part by the energy security debate. Countries across Central and Eastern Europe like Czechia, Romania, Poland, Bulgaria and Hungary are doubling down on nuclear. They need to reduce dependence on gas, they need baseload power, and renewables alone are not enough. Renewables are good, but they are inherently intermittent. Baseload will be gas, or it will be nuclear.

If elected, how would you approach President Trump on the Paris Agreement?

I will be very honest: I don’t think I could convince him. He has a clear view. But there are positive things happening in the United States, particularly the expansion of nuclear power, which will indirectly mitigate some of the effects of more fossil fuel use, and which he has been championing. The previous absolute dogmatism about 100% renewables was not scientifically or technologically viable. Being a diplomat, I believe in the middle course.

Given the massive energy drain of AI, do you see a nuclear-AI alliance as a global blueprint? Are you concerned about AI in our conflicts?

I am an AI optimist. Like any technology, it may have negative uses, but I do not subscribe to AI catastrophism. The nexus between AI and nuclear is very strong. I hosted a conference in Vienna attended by Google, Meta and OpenAI, all discussing this intersection. Where I do have concerns is autonomous weapons and systems where a human is not in the loop. But that can be addressed with sound policy. AI is fundamentally a force for good.

Do the UN Security Council’s structures need reform?

Security Council reform is driven by member states, with varying expectations. Some countries want permanent seats, others prefer a regional approach. But the problems in the Security Council are derived from politics, not from institutional structure. It remains indispensable: all five permanent members are nuclear weapon states, and essential conversations happen there. The Gaza plan was approved with only two abstentions. Agreements are still possible.

What is missing is an active secretary-general. History shows what is possible. The secretary-general is not going to be a lay saint performing miracles, but the role can be far more effective than it currently is.

As a career Argentine diplomat, what would you offer Latin America and the Global South, given that no Global South country holds a permanent Security Council seat?

The UN needs less declaratory posturing and more pragmatic engagement, in peace, in development, in human rights. On development specifically, the UN’s machinery needs restructuring to be more agile, working hand in hand with the World Bank and multilateral development banks. I have cultivated those relationships closely at the IAEA. There is too often a schizophrenic approach. Countries say one thing in New York and something different in Washington. I believe in a cooperative approach: work with the institutions we have, make them function better.

Latin America is at a moment of real opportunity with food production, energy, minerals, rare earths. More importantly, it is a zone of peace. Countries here are not spending heavily on defence. That is a tremendous advantage and frees up resources that could go to education, economic growth and investment. I am fundamentally optimistic, and I think having a secretary-general from the region would not be a bad thing.

Some say the mathematics don’t add up for net zero without nuclear, while other environmentalists argue the money is better spent on faster-deploying renewables. What do you think?

Cost should never be the sole driver of energy decisions. What countries need are integrated, intelligent energy mixes. No serious energy planner believes in a matrix built on a single source. Countries with abundant hydro do not necessarily need nuclear. Japan, with its limited space and large economy, does. The right mix depends on context, not ideology.

There has been a false narrative about nuclear safety [from environmentalists]. In 70 years of commercial exploitation, there have been two serious accidents. By any insurance metric, that is an excellent record. Nuclear mortality rates rank lower than renewables in some analyses. As for nuclear waste, all the spent fuel from 100 US reactors over 70 years would fit inside a football stadium. The image of glowing, unmanageable waste is wrong. Small modular reactors are now multiplying the opportunities further.

What would you reform structurally about the UN Secretariat on climate and environment? Can climate governance succeed without deeper China-US cooperation?

We have too many UN bodies dealing with climate – seven or eight – with sometimes contradictory advice and normative approaches. Some streamlining is needed. China and the United States, paradoxically, at the climate summits they tend not to disagree as much as you might expect. They compete, but there are areas of convergence. What we need is to depoliticise the energy discussion. That remains the hardest challenge.

What is the single biggest global risk in the next decade?

Two things stand out on my dashboard. The first is nuclear weapons proliferation. Today, with the fraying of alliance guarantees, important countries in the West and in Asia are quietly asking whether they need their own nuclear deterrent. Imagine a world where instead of nine or ten nuclear-armed states you have 25 or 32. That is technologically possible. In such a world, the risk of a conventional conflict escalating to a nuclear exchange becomes very real.

The second is poverty mitigation. Entire regions of the world, like the Sahel which borders the Sahara Desert, are derelict. These become epicentres of terrorism and instability, apart from the incredibly inhumane conditions in which millions still live without potable water, without electricity. These are factors that have a big impact on international peace and security.

Julian Reingold

Initiative: Mexico City’s Environmental and Climate Change Program

Mexico City is one of the largest and most populated metropolises in the world. Despite having only an area of 1,494.3 km2, equivalent to 0.1% of the national territory (INEGI, 2020), it is home to 2% of world biodiversity and 12% of national biodiversity, 770 endemic species of plants and animals, and a great variety of species of corn, squash, chili, amaranth, and beans. This natural and cultural heritage comes both from urban areas (rivers, urban forests, ravines and parks), as well as from the more than 87 thousand hectares that are classified as “conservation land” that represent almost 60% of Mexico City’s territory (natural forests, thickets, rivers, wetlands and lands worked by rural communities).

Given the deterioration and loss of this heritage, caused by the disconnection with nature, the growth of the urban sprawl and factors such as overexploitation, pollution, changes in land use, invasive species and the effects of climate change that have generated, for example, conditions conducive to a greater incidence of fires, as of 2019 a comprehensive policy was launched to regenerate the ecological conditions of the city based on a vision of sustainability, innovation and rights, derived from the Government Program of Mexico City 2019-2024 and established in the Environmental and Climate Change Program (ECCP) 2019-2024.

The first of the axes of the ECCP refers to the “Revegetation of the countryside and the city”, which gave rise to the revegetation strategy called “Green Challenge”, within which the planting of 10 million trees and other plants between 2019 and 2020 was established as a quantitative goal, with a comprehensive approach that covers the following lines of work:

1. Rescue of nurseries to increase production and planting
2. Recovery of native species through seed collection and nursery production
3. Promotion of gardens for pollinators
4. Strengthening of public space with the opening of natural protected areas for public access and the creation and rehabilitation of parks
5. Improvement of soil and vegetation quality through comprehensive management, attention to pests and diseases, diversification of vegetation strata and training for public servants
6. Participation of citizens, civil society and companies in revegetation days and environmental education activities

Thanks to the Green Challenge, the increase in the annual production of plants went from less than 500 thousand in 2018 to more than 10 million in 2021, which has allowed the planting of 27,082,593 trees and plants. The creation and rehabilitation of 16 large parks located mainly in peripheral areas with the greatest lack of access to public spaces, benefiting 6.3 million inhabitants. Additionally, 4,155 inhabitants of rural communities are benefiting in return for their work as brigade members in reforestation and ecological conservation activities, such as the plantation of 16.9 million plants only on conservation land, including the reforestation of 16,505 hectares in forests and rivers.

Adressing the urban challenge

Addressing the urban challenge

Breadth of the issue – How are the problem(s) that are being tackled by your initiative affecting citizens/local businesses or a significant component of the local wildlife?

Due to its geographical location and orographic characteristics, Mexico City is a system exposed to various climatic and hydrometeorological hazards. Because of anthropogenic factors such as overexploitation, expansion of the urban sprawl, changes in land use, soil, water and air pollution (the city emits 27 million tons of carbon dioxide equivalent) and the effects of climate change, the city faces problematic situations caused and intensified by the deterioration of ecosystems and the loss of its biodiversity.

There is a large amount of evidence on the intensification of the effects of climate change and the deepening of the conditions of the environmental problem in the city, which led to the establishment of very ambitious goals in 2019 to reverse these conditions, such as a 10% reduction in CO2equivalent emissions, compared to those produced in 2018.

The most important effects that directly impact the inhabitants have to do with material and human losses due to extreme rains, floods and landslides (between the years 2000 and 2015 there were 51 events of this type that affected 52,331 people), urban heat islands and temperatures extreme high temperatures that, combined with changes in rainfall patterns, generate conditions for a greater incidence of fires that contribute to the loss of ecosystems (from 2019 to 2020, the area affected by fires in conservation land had been reduced by 50% thanks to the increased resources for its attention, but in 2021 the affected area doubled due to a severe drought condition linked to the ENSO-Niña climatic phenomenon).

Depth of the issue – How seriously are the problems being tackled by your initiative impacting the life of the citizens/businesses/wildlife concerned?

There is great evidence on the intensification of the effects of climate change and the environmental problems in the city that led to the establishment of much more ambitious goals in 2019 to reverse these conditions. Between 2000 and 2015, Mexico City registered a total of 66 hydrometeorological phenomena, whose impacts are the most costly and damaging due to the impacted extensions and the affected population. The most frequent were related to torrential rains and storms, landslides, low temperatures and strong winds, which caused damages of 1,173,876 million pesos (56 million dollars), affecting 11,107 homes and 64,655 people (Source: National Center for Disaster Prevention).

Also, from 1991 to 2020, 12,332 fires were registered in the city, 10.6% of the fires in the country (Source: National Forestry Commission) and the temperature in the urban area has increased up to 5°C with respect to the rural area in the dry season of the year and 4% with respect to its surroundings (mainly urban areas with cement and asphalt structures).

In the city there are 105 species in some category of risk and at the beginning of this century more than 70% of the extension of oak and pine-oak forests had already been lost (Source: CONABIO; http://200.12.166.51/janium /Documents/13054.pdf).

It’s estimated that for each urbanized hectare, the aquifers stop recharging 2.5 million liters per year, in a context in which the area built on conservation land from 2005 to 2015 increased an annual average of 2.67%, reaching 5,518.69 hectares in 2015 (Source: IG-UNAM/SEDEMA, 2017).

(Sources: AIPH aka International Association of Horticultural Producers)

A lone huemul’s return to Patagonia is forcing a regional reckoning: should humans intervene to save an endangered species? 

By Rodolfo Chisleanschi, April 1, 2026

Newenche walked alone.

He travelled more than 300 km, navigating the ragged peaks of the southern Andes and crossing a national boundary, from Chile into Argentina. Without a herd, a territory, or a mate.

When the young huemul (Hippocamelus bisulcus) was first seen in Lanín national park in early 2025, the appearance was considered historic. His solitude itself was the cause for celebration. In this part of Argentine Patagonia, the huemul had not been seen for decades and was considered virtually extinct. Only once was there even a flicker of hope: a few footprints found in 2006.

A year later, Newenche is still there. Native to the Americas, the huemul is the continent’s most endangered deer with an estimated population of 1,500-2,000. Newenche’s journey has reinvigorated a scientific and ethical question that divides conservationists: should we limit ourselves to protecting what is left of the natural world, or is it time to intervene with active recovery?

Rewilding, and the risks of intervention

In many ways, the huemul survived the Andes but not human contact.

“It is an extremely trusting animal that is not afraid of humans,” says Sebastian Di Martino, conservation director at the Rewilding Argentina Foundation (FRA). That trait proved fatal. Combined with indiscriminate hunting, competition with cattle, diseases transmitted by livestock and attacks by dogs, huemul populations collapsed during the 20th century. As valleys were urbanised and converted for agriculture, herds became isolated. Scientists estimate that barely 1% of the original population survives today.

For some conservationists, that history makes a case for intervention. Eduardo Arias, director of conservation at Chile’s Huilo Huilo biological reserve, argues waiting is no longer an option: “In such sensitive situations, the time has to come to stop being so contemplative and take active conservation seriously.” Huilo Huilo began breeding huemuls in captivity in 2005, starting with a pair and adding another female the following year. A decade later, Chile authorised the first releases into the wild. Today, Arias says, around 50 huemuls live freely, forming seven family groups.

Tralca, for instance, was one of the males released in 2016. Newenche is his son.

This approach is often described as rewilding, or active restoration: the deliberate reintroduction of species into landscapes where they were once wiped out, with the aim of restoring ecological functions. It remains deeply contested. Critics argue that moving animals is not simply a technical fix, but a profound intervention in complex systems that may have already shifted beyond reversal.

Rewilders are broadly split into two camps, one being those who want to “leave everything alone”. The other believes the level of damage caused to ecosystems is so great that, as Di Martino puts it: “It is impossible to imagine that nature will recover on its own, as if by magic.”

Within the “active” rewilders, there are still divisions, particularly over the relationship between humans and nature. Some advocates start from the idea that “wild” ecosystems should function without human presence. “Our foundation wants to regenerate complete and functional ecosystems, which have everything they once had and, from that moment on, continue their evolution wherever they need to go,” explains Di Martino.

Others point to the complexities – or even impossibilities – of separating humans and nature. “Most protected areas are surrounded by productive areas,” says Alejandro Valenzuela, a researcher at the National Scientific Research Council of Argentina (Conicet). “So, what is being created is something prettier but it’s quite similar to a zoo, because it has no biological or geographical continuity. The species lack connectivity and all individuals become relatives of a few parents.”

Some question the impact of rewilding on rural communities. Advocates suggest nature tourism could be a novel economic outlet for the inhabitants of rewilded areas. But others argue it can lead to rural depopulation, and instead call for holistic solutions that consider socio-economic factors. 

The objections are not just philosophical or social but technical, too. “The manipulation and translocation of animals carries too many risks and must be carried out in accordance with the minimum guidelines established by the IUCN [International Union for Conservation of Nature],” says Valenzuela, adding that “at least in Argentina, I am not aware of any project that complies with them.”

Hernán Pastore, a biologist and wildlife specialist at the National Parks Administration in Argentina (APN), lists these technical criteria for rewilding: solid evidence that the species existed in the area; understanding of the causes of its disappearance; assessment of whether the current environment is still suitable; genetic proximity of the specimens to be introduced; and guarantees that the original population will not suffer irreversible damage.

There are other important factors to consider: local participation, ecological connectivity to prevent inbreeding and long-term monitoring. “Too often, media or tourism impact is prioritised over ecological processes,” Valenzuela warns.

Di Martino says Rewilding Argentina follows the IUCN guidelines. 

Intervening in altered ecosystems

Nestled beside Fontana Lake, in Andean forests to the south-east of Argentina’s Chubut province, is the Shoonem breeding centre. This is the only facility in the country authorised to work with huemuls. Opened in October 2018, the 100-hectare space currently has four females, two males and five juveniles living in semi-captivity. Its director, the Swiss biologist Werner Flueck, argues the species’ failure to recover is not just down to hunting or habitat loss but more subtle ecological disruptions. For instance, the deficiency of trace elements in their diet, such as selenium and iodine.

According to Flueck, until 150-200 years ago, huemuls followed a seasonal migratory pattern. They descended to the Patagonian steppes in winter and returned to the mountains in summer. That movement has been broken. “Human encroachment on the most productive valleys and plains has forced huemuls to live as refugees throughout the year in the remote heights of the Andes mountain range, where nutritional conditions are worse,” he says.

Studies carried out on huemul bones by Shoonem have revealed changes in the skull and teeth, caused by low levels of iodine and selenium in their new highland grazing areas. These changes have been detrimental to their ability to search for food and avoid predators. This in turn has contributed to the low average age of adult huemuls in the region, shrinking populations. When able to feed on the woody and herbaceous shoots of the steppe during winter, these huemels could theoretically compensate for such deficiencies.

Di Martino agrees confining conservation efforts to high-altitude refuges is a mistake: “We should make it easier for them to ascend and descend at different time of the year. Or start repopulating places where they used to live.”

Discussions around the creation of biological corridors are already underway at binational conferences between Chile and Argentina.

Lessons learned

Successful species reintroductions are not unprecedented in South America. For instance, the return of the jaguar to the Iberá wetlands in north-east Argentina. The first was released here in 2021; today, 50 jaguars live freely on San Alonso island.

Agustín Paviolo, a researcher at the Institute of Animal Diversity and Ecology at the University of Córdoba (UCO), is part of the team assessing this reintroduction: “The response in the food chain has been rapid, and is impressing us.”

The number of capybaras, the jaguars’ preferred prey, has fallen by 80%. Capybara behaviour has subsequently shifted, with herds avoiding areas where they are likely to be hunted. Grasslands have thus recovered, and areas once over-grazed by capybara are shrinking. While data is currently scarce, initial research by Adrián Di Giacomo, from Conicet’s Centre for Applied Coastal Ecology (CECOAL), shows fox numbers may also be declining – a boost for bird populations. “This change could increase the reproductive success of the Iberá collared yetapá (or Iberá capuchino), whose ground nests, eggs and chicks are preyed upon by foxes,” says Di Giacomo.

For advocates of intervention, these outcomes show how reintroducing missing species can reshape ecosystems altered by human activity. For critics, they reveal how difficult it is to predict or control such processes. Oostvaardersplassen in the Netherlands is a stark example. Deer, horses and cattle were reintroduced here in the 1980s. Following a particularly harsh winter in 2017, however, thousands were struggling to survive and had to be culled.

Preparing the ground

Partly to avoid such outcomes, the IUCN has argued that a species reintroduction cannot succeed unless the pressures that led to its decline are addressed. At Huilo Huilo, that has meant zoning territory, removing feral cattle, strengthening surveillance and working closely with local communities and schools. This happened before any huemuls were released. “This has led to a very significant change in mentality over the last 20 years,” Arias says.

A similar process is underway in Lanín national park in Argentina, following reports of huemul releases in Chile. Since 2023, the park’s authorities have moved to control livestock, manage dogs and regulate tourist access. “A healthy forest should have an herbaceous layer, an intermediate layer with shrubs, a layer of young trees and then mature trees,” says María Rosa Contreras, who is coordinating Lanín’s habitat recovery project in anticipation of the huemul’s return. “All of that was being changed by livestock.”

People, too, need to become reaccustomed with the animal’s importance via environmental education, she adds: “We want the population to recover its social memory and remember that the huemul is our native deer.”

Newenche’s continued presence – and his occasional solitary strolls into the outskirts of the city of San Martín de los Andes – is closely monitored. Whether or not others arrive here will determine if rewilding becomes recovery, or remains an experiment. For now, Newenche waits alone to see if more huemul will follow him across the Andes.

Rodolfo Chisleanschi

An effort to revive wilting trees on a college campus has grown into a forestry initiative where households across Rajasthan adopt trees as kin. 

By Moushumi Basu, March 26, 2026

Anni Devi is beaming. At her home in Manafarsar, a village in north-western India’s Thar desert, the 82-year-old welcomes her grandson’s new wife as well as another new member of the household: an 18-inch sapling of jamun, the Indian blackberry.

The tree arrives draped in a red veil. The newlyweds carry it to the backyard, pour sacred water into the soil and press it into the sand, as relatives chant and scatter petals. “May you be prosperous and beget many fruits and children,” Devi says, blessing all three. The bride and the jamun join a growing “green family” – neem, guava, moringa, mulberry, Indian rosewood and Indian beech. Each planted on an auspicious day, each treated as kin.

Across 18,000 villages in the Thar, close to two million families are now raising what they call their “green sons and daughters”. The idea is simple: if a tree is adopted as a family member, it will not be abandoned.

The concept was seeded in the early 2000s by Shyam Sunder Jyani, a sociology professor who was trying to save a row of wilting neem trees on his college campus in the Bikaner district of Rajasthan state. What unsettled him when he set out to restore them, he says, was the indifference – “the apathy of the so-called ‘educated elite’” despite practicing rituals of tree and nature worship in their daily lives, Jyani tells Dialogue Earth.

So instead of framing his interventions as conservation, he began characterising them as familial. With students and villagers, Jyani created the first “green family”, linking saplings to households rather than to official programmes. The shift was cultural before it was ecological.

Two decades on, more than five million trees have been planted across over 4,000 hectares, in a concept known as familial forestry.

Hanuman Ram Chaudhary, the chief conservator of forests in Bikaner, says that when patches of familial forests are nurtured, they develop into sustainable, viable habitats for native species. “Familial forestry has also [significantly] contributed to the increase in ‘Trees Outside Forest’ area in the state,” Chaudhary tells Dialogue Earth, referring to trees planted outside all wooded areas.

Reports from the Forest Survey of India show that Rajasthan’s Trees Outside Forest area rose from 8,272 square kilometres in 2011 to 10,841 in 2023.

But statistics only tell part of the story. In pockets of the Thar, farmers and educators say the landscape feels different. There has been more green, more shade, and a shift in how communities relate to the land beneath their feet.

Reviving the land

“Familial forestry is about the holistic healing of ecosystems by nurturing their health and strengthening the interdependence between habitats, flora, fauna and local communities,” Jyani says.

A recipient of the 2021 Land for Life Award from the UN Convention to Combat Desertification, Jyani began the initiative in 2006 with 120 households in Himtasar village, near Bikaner city. Carrying the message of “one family, one tree”, he distributed native saplings: Indian mesquite, valued for its fodder and sangri pods; rohida (desert teak), prized for its durable wood; and fruit trees such as jujube.

Initially, the undertaking was met with scepticism. Many wondered how trees could grow on desert sand. “This was a myth we dispelled through the traditional wisdom of local elders in desert ecology,” Jyani explains, adding that he leant on the knowledge systems of village elders who helped identify native grasses and species suited to the terrain.

“These days we exploit nature and deplete her resources, but here was someone who wanted to replenish the earth by creating multiple green families,” says 67-year-old Bahadurmal Siddh, who became a key volunteer in the movement.

Siddh now oversees around seven acres of familial forest on community land. “The secret to rejuvenating such ecosystems lies in first establishing a perennial cover of drought-tolerant native grasses,” he explains. Grass species such as sewan, dhaman (buffel grass) and karad (marvel grass) bind the soil with fibrous roots, prevent erosion and conserve moisture. As they grow and decay, they enrich the soil, creating a good base for seeds and saplings.

“This culturally rooted, community-led model of sustainable conservation is restoring degraded desert land and native biodiversity, integrating environmental care with traditional practices and everyday life,” says Prabhu Dan Charan, assistant professor in the Department of Environmental Science at Maharaja Ganga Singh University in Bikaner.

“We can now depend on agriculture as a sustainable source of livelihood,” says Onkarnath Yogi, a farmer from Lunkaransar village in Bikaner. “Simultaneously, the fruits, fodder and medicinal plants from our backyard… are supplementing our nutrition and wellbeing.”

Women’s participation

If familial forestry is reshaping the microclimate, it is also altering social realities, particularly for women long confined to the margins of public life.

Rajasthan has had a long history of gender inequality and the marginalisation of women, with customs such as child marriage and purdah (the veiling of women) still prevalent in many rural areas. “For [women], even visiting cremation grounds was a taboo,” said Kavita Jyani, a co-founder of the movement and spouse of Shyam Sundar.

She remembers arriving at a familial forestry programme in 2016 with her two daughters, to find not one other woman present. “But as we continued to participate, it encouraged other women to step out and begin breaking social barriers,” she tells Dialogue Earth.

The purpose of the movement, Kavita Jyani says, was not only to combat desertification, but also to address malnutrition especially among women and children, and to enhance food security through planting of fruit trees.

Today, women lead rituals such as Familial Forestry Day on 4 August. Saplings are offered at Hindu temples, distributed as roonkh prasad – a blessed offering that households take home as a new family member. During Vriksh Raksha Bandhan – the green adaptation of the Hindu ritual, with vriksh meaning “tree” in Sanskrit – women tie sacred threads called rakhi around trees, which they would ordinarily bind around the wrists of their brothers, pledging lifelong protection.

These rituals have also built a funding base. Since 2019, around 100,000 volunteers have pledged to contribute one rupee every day under Roonkh Reet (“custom for saplings” in Marwari, a Rajasthani dialect). Through Lili Laag (“green responsibility”), families donate during festivals and significant occasions. Jyani notes that the movement has come a long way from its early days, when it relied largely on his salary and small contributions from friends.

The trees are grown on private farms and in courtyards, but also in schools and public institutions. The familial forestry initiative team work with the institutions to identify suitable land for the trees to be cultivated. Students, teachers and staff then adopt the trees, taking personal responsibility for their care as extended “family members”.

What began as just a few neem trees on Jyani’s six-hectare college campus has grown into the Gandhi Institutional Forest, which he estimates as formed of more than 3,000 trees spanning about 90 native and other species. Across the Thar, over 200 such institutional forests now stand, tended to by students and staff.

‘A paradise of nature’

Perhaps the most visible example of familial forestry can be found at Dabla Talab, an 84-hectare reservoir and catchment once ravaged by three decades of gypsum mining. The reservoir had dried up after mining cut 20 to 30 feet into its gypsum-rich basin, notes Bhagirath Motsara, a village elder from nearby Uttamdesar who is also involved in familial forestry. Dabla Talab is revered locally as the site where Baba Jasnath – a medieval saint whose followers, the Jasnathis, still live in the region – was found as a newborn.

In June 2022, Jyani, backed by the district administration and local communities, embarked on a 4,500-kilometre protest yatra (procession) against the mining ecosystem.

Two months later, with the support of villagers from surrounding areas, he began planting native vegetation around the reservoir. For this effort, “I received death threats through intimidatory calls and messages”, recalls Jyani. Local media reported that Jyani and key members of the movement were met with lawsuits from individuals accusing them of encroaching on the land, with the cases later dismissed by the court.

To expand the planting effort, Jyani enlisted the help of more than 100 villages surrounding Dabla Talab. The sacred site was fenced off, and a more intensive restoration began. Today, over 50 varieties of native plants and grasses grow across the revived landscape.

“Dabla today is a paradise of nature,” says Pratap Singh Kataria, head of the zoology department at Government Dungar College in Bikaner. Wildlife has returned: there are jirds, jungle cats, as well as lizards and foxes. Dialogue Earth noted birds like long-billed vultures, Eurasian collared doves and peafowl circling above several restored waterholes. “The landscape now supports a complete web of life that sustains the thriving species,” Kataria notes.

To sustain the wider familial forestry movement, six public nurseries – each raising between 40,000 and 60,000 saplings – and 115 seasonal nurseries distribute trees free of cost. While most saplings are grown locally, some are sourced from government and private suppliers.

But challenges remain. Jyani points to the need for sustained funding, greater awareness, a steady supply of saplings as well as continued threats from mining interests.

Yet he measures success differently: “From conservation to conversation – where families dissolve differences over the exchange of saplings and share a sense of belonging.”

In the Thar, trees rise from the desert sand, growing in courtyards, besides wells and on community land. They have been carried tenderly, planted and raised as family.

Moushumi Basu