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by Randa Ali for The 44 North, Guest Writer 


Youth are increasingly faced with climate anxiety and strong opinions about wars they aren’t signing up for, yet will inherit. The environmental cost of war shows that these two issues are interconnected and that this data is not being provided to them.


Artwork by Logan Brewer
Artwork by Logan Brewer

"When it comes to the intersection of war and the environment, youth feel how heavily it has and will impact them. They expect more from world leaders."

Editor's Note:


This article is the first installment of a three-part series. The 44 North will release two more articles, the first delving into how Canadian policy allows the military to avoid climate accountability and the second discussing how the environments of countries experiencing conflict are hit the hardest. Youth will discuss how they feel about the climate impact of the bombings they witness from their phones, alongside Canada’s specific role in the environmental cost of war.



“Yesterday morning I woke up, and the sky was orange,” says Sylphia, who describes witnessing the effects of climate change in Toronto this summer. As a 24-year-old freelance journalist who writes on the Middle East and keeps up with news on climate change, she’s no stranger to how these two issues intersect. When she thought about speaking about the environmental cost of war with The 44 North, she said: “I think the environment, war, and capitalism are very interconnected webs.”


Youth are reporting feeling immense climate anxiety and frustration over wars they never subscribed to, but will inherit the consequences of. After witnessing the impacts of bombings via independent journalists documenting conflict zones on their social media feeds, they already know that wars harm the environment. Due to a lack of accountability and communication in reporting the impacts of militaries and war on climate, youth—and everyone, really—are left unaware of the full extent of these intersecting crises. Through interviews with three climate-conscious youth and one climate researcher, The 44 North explores what youth need to know about the environmental cost of war.


What the environmental cost of war means


Youth are painfully aware of how deeply war and conflict are affecting the world. “This has been going on for years and years and years and years,” says Ethan, a law student, recalling multiple global conflicts, particularly in Gaza. 


This is not just a feeling. Since records began being collected in 1946, there hasn’t been a single year without conflict. The global conflict tracker by the Council on Foreign Relations shows nearly 30 active conflicts are unfolding across the world as of 2026,  the environmental impacts of which aren’t being reported by the responsible parties, ranging from carbon emissions to environmental degradation. This doesn’t come as a surprise to Sylphia, especially given her line of work: “I do think that there’s a definite thread between the multiple ongoing wars, [...]the military industrial complex and how much the climate crisis seems to have accelerated.”


The full scope of the environmental cost of war is vast: The resource extraction, energy use, emissions from maintaining military weapons and personnel, war-fighting, physical destruction of the land, and reconstruction of the ruins. Ethan paints a picture of his understanding of this full process:  


“The environmental cost is not just the dropping of bombs, but the extracting of all the raw materials necessary to build them, and the oil being spent to ship them across international waters [between] where the raw materials are [excavated] to where bombs are constructed. And then, there’s the oil used to fly the fighter jets.”


Photo by Edgar Serrano via Unsplash
Photo by Edgar Serrano via Unsplash

The weight of military emissions


When we think of the world’s worst climate offenders, few people expect military emissions to top the list. The intersection between militarism and the environment is rarely discussed—whether in mainstream media, statistics released by global bodies, or advocacy through most environmental organizations. Meanwhile, researchers and advocates in this field say that the environmental impacts of the military are too vast to continue to overlook


Andrew Jorgenson is a professor of sociology at the University of British Columbia (UBC), and the founding director of UBC’s Climate & Society Lab. Jorgenson’s research examines how national militaries contribute to their respective country's economies and overall carbon emissions. When he teaches students about the environmental impacts of the military, he says,  "A common reaction [is]  'Wow, this really makes a lot of sense. I've never thought about this. It's never crossed my mind.'"


Military activity and its enormous global supply chains are estimated to account for approximately 5.5% of all global greenhouse gas emissions during relative peacetime post-World War II. The world’s militaries emit approximately 2.75 billion tonnes of CO₂ equivalent per year. These emissions are greater than the entire global shipping (3%) and aviation (2%) industries combined. In fact, if the world’s militaries were a country, they would have the fourth highest carbon footprint on the planet, higher than the entire nation of Russia.


Further, these numbers are an estimation: Military emissions are one of the largest unaccounted sources of carbon emissions in the world. Despite a drastic rise in conflict and war, the data remains concealed, optional to report, and consistently omitted from global climate accounting. Furthermore, if the full scope of destruction and reconstruction were added, researchers expect the true figure would be many times higher.


"If anything, we're all probably under-counting,” says Jorgenson. “What we're estimating is very conservative [compared to] the actual overall impacts."


A white cardboard sign reading “System not climate change” in black capital letters.
A white cardboard sign reading “System not climate change” in black capital letters.

The burning of fossil fuels is the main component fueling human-led climate change, and an essential part of running global militaries. The military runs on an enormous amount of fossil fuels, demonstrated most clearly by the U.S. military. The U.S. Department of War, formerly known as the Department of Defence, is the world’s largest institutional consumer of petroleum, accounting for 80% of all U.S. Federal government energy consumption since 2001. In 2024, the combined military emissions of NATO countries, China, and Russia reached a record high of 551 million metric tonnes of CO2 equivalent. This is the equivalent of driving over 300 million cars on the road every year. 


As Jorgenson researches this data to figure out what drives military energy consumption, he shares, “Part of it is largely [...] tied to the direct burning of fossil fuels by jets and other related machinery, because they're just so energy intensive."


In Canada, the Department of Defence accounts for 60% of its federal emissions. Sarah, an environmental engineering student who asked that her name be changed to protect her privacy, was surprised to hear this figure. “I didn't think the number was that large,” she says. “I thought it was more like 20%.” 


Why military emissions are not included 


The responsibility for the carbon footprint of militaries was deliberately left out of the climate equation almost 30 years ago, before most of today’s youth were even born. During the Kyoto Accords in 1997, the United States successfully lobbied to exclude military emissions from any global climate frameworks. The Paris Agreement partly addressed this issue, leaving reporting voluntary. Of the 70 largest militaries committed to the United Nations Framework Convention on Climate Change (UNFCCC), only half submit any military emissions data. Even among those that do, no nation reports emissions on war-fighting activities. At best, experts estimate that militaries only report 10% of their carbon footprint


"A lot of governments, when they don't want to take accountability for something specific, either j don't report on it or don’t [collect] the data for it,” says Sarah. “Part of a functioning democracy is [making] that data available so that people can ask for what they want because they can see the whole picture [...] If you can't see what [the government is] doing, then how do you know what to ask for?"


Via Unsplash
Via Unsplash

Military emissions matter now


Researchers have been sounding the alarm about military emissions for decades and maintain that it’s a critical time for addressing the extent of this issue. As global military spending has risen every year for the past decade, setting a record $2.7 trillion in 2024, emissions have grown with them. Countries have released plans to expand their militaries even further, which implies an emissions-saturated future without any plans for climate accountability. As current wars stretch across months and even years, these active conflicts will continue to add unmeasured and devastating costs to the environment. Without including these costs, researchers say the picture of the environmental cost of war is still out of sight: plans to decarbonize cannot be made without these essential data points. 


When it comes to crafting decarbonization plans or reducing environmental impact, the targets militaries have set almost exclusively address buildings and administrative vehicles. The emissions associated with their operational fleets (fighter jets, tanks, warships, and more), alongside international operations, make up the majority of emissions. Jorgenson says his research found an important opportunity, where "Modest decreases in military spending for the U.S., such as a 6% decrease in their annual military spending budget, could lead to [meaningful reductions in energy consumption]."


Governments, global bodies, and militaries are aware of this significance and the environmental impacts of their operations and warfighting. In 2021, NATO Secretary General Stoltenberg said, “There is no way to reach net zero without also including emissions from the military.” 


Looking Ahead


The discussion on the environmental cost of war does not end here. To any students wondering what to do with this information, Jorgenson says: "Now [that] you actually know about it, and you're thinking about it [...] share this with your friends and your relatives and your colleagues."


When it comes to the intersection of war and the environment, youth feel how heavily it has and will impact them. They expect more from world leaders. Sarah shares her message to the government on how their actions are reflecting to youth:


"The government needs to start taking accountability for the emissions that occur from war. And not only that, but the social impact costs as well. Because this is not only affecting the environment, it's also affecting people." 


The 44 North will release two more articles, the first delving into how Canadian policy allows the military to avoid climate accountability and the second discussing how the environments of countries experiencing conflict are hit the hardest. Youth will discuss how they feel about the climate impact of the bombings they witness from their phones, alongside Canada’s specific role in the environmental cost of war. 


Randa Ali is a Toronto writer whose work focuses on sustainability, climate, arts & culture. She's interested in how intersections between people, planet, and profit shape politics, culture, and communities. She holds a Master of Science in Sustainability Management from the University of Toronto and is training in journalism. Randa’s work can be seen on Instagram @byrandaali.


by Sylphia Basak for The 44 North, Contributing Writer - Politics



Editor's Note:


The following article reflects the views & analysis of the author. As with all opinion and essay submissions, the piece has been edited for clarity and reviewed carefully for factual accuracy, but the interpretations & arguments are the author’s own. The 44 North publishes an array of perspectives & voices to encourage and ensure thoughtful engagement with complex social, political, historical, and cultural issues.


"And perhaps the microcosm of FIFA acts as a stand-in for the political climate, where we're still rooting for the underdog to win against evil, against the impossible odds."

To so many around the world, the beauty of football (soccer) is its democracy. From the grass fields of England to the barrios of Brazil and the sandy back alleys of Morocco, the simplicity in its setup—a ball, an open patch of land, and two markers for goals—allows it to be a meritocratic sport where anyone can find themselves on the world’s stage, regardless of country, race, or class. Seemingly, the only prerequisites are hard work and perhaps a touch of talent. The unparalleled accessibility for both players and spectators has arguably made soccer one of, if not the, most universal sports, gathering billions of players and adoring fans in parks and stadiums across the globe. At the peak of FIFA 2026, there’s an undeniable sense of unity and community ritual as bars draw crowds that spill onto the street. Everyone seems to be in a flurry of doom and uncertainty: For a few months, they believe that their team—and by extension themselves, the underdog—can win in a world that feels like a magnet for loss.  


But how does that cultural and democratic ideal hold up within the institution of the sport?


FIFA, the Fédération Internationale de Football Association, has served as the global governing body for football since 1904. As described by one Reddit user, FIFA is essentially “the UN of football”—a unifying council designed for nations to confer with one another beyond the nitty-gritty of bi-partisan politics. 


FIFA’s statutes explicitly state that the soccer governing body must remain “neutral in matters of politics and religion.” However, the 2026 World Cup series has proven itself inseparable from the social, political, and literal climate it’s operating under. 

 

After Iran’s elimination from the first round of 48 countries, many have called out the treatment of the team, alleging that certain matches were rigged in order to eliminate them from the playoffs. Further, they’ve pointed out biased questions from the press and the circumstances within which they were allowed to play in the United States.


Several countries, including Iran, struggled to obtain the necessary visas to attend matches, both spectators and teams alike. 


“We can’t wait to welcome soccer fans from all over the globe,” the U.S. State Department’s website reads, quoting President Donald Trump. However, the White House's rules on who can enter the country vary widely depending on the travellers’ country of origin. At least four competing countries—Haiti, Iran, the Ivory Coast, and Senegal—are subject to a full travel ban (which affects tourists but not players), and a handful of others must undergo heightened screening to enter the country (Council of Foreign Relations).


The compromise for the Iranian team was for them to stay in Tijuana, Mexico, while competing in their matches on U.S. soil. This meant a four-hour flight and TSA security protocol between each game, leaving them exhausted and lacking the presumably crucial rest and practice between matches. Despite this, Iran never lost a game. Having tied each, they were eliminated by the Algeria and Austria draw, which theorists on X point to being fixed. In the same vein, Muslim spectators in America were harassed and assaulted, including women having their hijabs torn off, according to Novara Media.


Following the matches, press conferences also seemed to veer into politics for players and coaching staff of the Global South. Such was the case when a reporter asked the Iranian captain directly about their views on LGBTQ+ rights (a tactic known as ‘pinkwashing,’ wherein queer or women’s rights and lack thereof are used to propagate Western hegemony and justify foreign intervention in the Global South). The assumption—that many speculate the (American) reporter was making by asking the Iranian captain his views on LGBTQ+ rights—was that he would provide an incendiary (negative) opinion which could then be used to delegitimize a favourable view of Iran or the Iranian people, while the American team, and by extension, America, would be positioned as the morally superior of the two nations. The Iranian captain gave a heartwarming response regarding his and his team’s acceptance of all, alongside a reminder of why they were there: To play football. While reassuring to hear the Iranian teams’ welcoming attitudes toward Queer people, many have rightfully pointed out the blatant double standard in this line of questioning;


Not only is this line of questioning a violation of FIFA’s “apolitical” policy, but an argument could be made that it should be extended to all nations, including and perhaps especially America, as one of this year’s FIFA hosts. Why should one team be questioned on the state of human rights in their country while the American team hasn’t been questioned about their views on the Trump administration’s deployment of ICE in civilian communities, alongside its rollbacks on LGBTQ+ rights and protections?


Of course, the FIFA World Cup is unfolding amid the US/Israeli war on Iran, as well as Israel’s continued genocide and ethnic cleansing campaigns in Palestine and Lebanon, largely funded by the United States. America was still allowed to host, and Israel, though not securing a playoff spot, was still allowed into FIFA stadiums, while the Russian team has been banned since 2022, citing Russian leader Vladimir Putin’s war crimes in Ukraine. Despite arrest warrants via the International Criminal Court (ICC) for both Putin and Israel’s leader, Benjamin Netanyahu, only one nation remains banned from FIFA. 


In the wake of Cape Verde and Egypt’s losses against Argentina, discourse has arisen online regarding seemingly biased treatment toward the Argentinian team, resulting in a deliberate reconfiguring of rules to give them an advantage on the field. In a video circulating online, there appear to be multiple instances of the Argentinian team flouting rules and injuring their opponents, which were ignored by the referee. There have been extensive efforts to remove this video from social media, which has been cited as further evidence of more institutional bias.


Legacy news outlets such as BBC and TSN have reported these losses as “bad luck,” however, to many, it has become increasingly hard to ignore the glaring disparities in how certain teams have been treated, and the deliberate-seeming attempts at ensuring Africa and West Asia didn’t have a chance at playing in the finals, regardless of talent. 


Even before entering the field, Haiti had also experienced discrimination; FIFA banned their initial jersey design, citing their increasingly selective “political” label. While FIFA didn't elaborate on which components of the jersey were deemed problematic, the issue almost certainly stemmed from the small image of a group of people holding the Haitian flag that appeared on the right hip of the jersey. A spokesperson for the team confirmed an image depicting the Battle of Vertières and independence heroes raising the Haitian flag, commemorating the Haitian revolt against slavery, apparently “too political” for FIFA (The Conversation). 


Via ESPN
Via ESPN

This year’s FIFA World Cup, more so than other years in recent memory, has put on the global stage the financial and social disparities between European and North American teams and teams from the Global South. Undoubtedly, the significant sponsorships that Western teams are often more privy to greatly support their athletic performance. Coupled with likely favour from FIFA, it has become clear to many that not all nations are given the same starting line, and that this may be more deliberate than we as spectators have been led to believe. The Global South is once again in a position of playing socioeconomic matches before they even step on tournament turf, while Western teams are not only uplifted by sponsorships but, alongside their fans, act as though their success rate is a matter of talent, meritocracy, and superiority. As one X user says; 


FIFA, like all global institutions, cannot be exempt from the climate in which they exist. Apoliticism in the context of active genocides amounts to tone-deaf complicity and ignorance, and it becomes particularly insidious when covert colonial ideology seeps into institutions like FIFA via their treatment of people who fall outside of Western hegemony. 


As spectators, we must reckon with yet another form of reappropriating liberal ideals of diversity and unity to essentially minimize and obfuscate the current reality of imperialism manifesting itself, even within the game. 


So who gets to be a champion?


Such is the ask of any institution under capitalism. The essence of sport and art—and why we feel drawn to watching the greats and rooting for unexpected underdogs—is degraded when they’re married to systems rooted in the oppression of others. Ultimately, there’s no way for those systems to avoid absorbing the manifestations of colonialism, racism, sexism, etc., because these are the foundations on which many institutions—even beloved cultural icons such as FIFA—have been built upon. Diversity within these structures can then easily become another form of tokenism. Despite this, the talent of athletes in the global south shines through and holds its own against bias from the top down. And perhaps the microcosm of FIFA acts as a stand-in for the political climate, where we're still rooting for the underdog to win against evil, against the impossible odds. 


Sylphia Basak is a journalist/writer and activist who uses a variety of mediums to convey the story she wants to tell. Her work prioritizes a decolonial lens, and seeks to counteract and analyze Western media and culture as a way of highlighting the primary contradictions of the current political climate.


by Catherine Mwitta for The 44 North, Contributing Writer - Politics


An artistic rendering of immigration via figurines walking across stamped passports while pushing suitcase trolleys.
An artistic rendering of immigration via figurines walking across stamped passports while pushing suitcase trolleys.

Editor's Note:


The following article reflects the views & analysis of the author. As with all opinion and essay submissions, the piece has been edited for clarity and reviewed carefully for factual accuracy, but the interpretations & arguments are the author’s own. The 44 North publishes an array of perspectives & voices to encourage and ensure thoughtful engagement with complex social, political, historical, and cultural issues.


As Canada faces a cost-of-living crisis, politicians are reviving a long history of blaming newcomers—this time, targeting international students. 


In 1869, the Canadian Immigration Act discriminated against immigrants on the grounds of class and disability. The federal government enacted further measures to restrict Chinese immigration, including a head tax and the Chinese Immigration Act of 1923. Additional racial and national restrictions were introduced after the First World War: Under a revised Immigration Act in 1919, the government excluded specific groups from entering the country, including Communists, Mennonites, Doukhobors, and other groups with particular religious practices, such as Judaism, as well as nationalities whose countries had fought against Canada during the First World War, such as Austrians, Hungarians, and Turks. 


Via The Canadian Encyclopedia: Southeast Asian refugees at CFB Griesbach Military Base in Edmonton, August 1979. Photo: © Murray Mosher. Courtesy of The Canadian Immigration Historical Society.
Via The Canadian Encyclopedia: Southeast Asian refugees at CFB Griesbach Military Base in Edmonton, August 1979. Photo: © Murray Mosher. Courtesy of The Canadian Immigration Historical Society.

Until 1976, it seemed immigration in Canada was largely an “open door” policy privileging whiteness and interest in Western Canada settlement. Changes to prior immigration policies occurred to address severe labour market shortages and adjust to shifting global demographics. As Canada’s economic goals expanded, immigration policy evolved to include multicultural policy embedded in the Canadian Charter of Rights and Freedoms in 1982 and again in 1988 via the Canadian Multicultural Act. Both have promoted economic growth by increasing the labour supply while promising strong human rights and safety guarantees for newcomers from diverse backgrounds. Over time, the demographics of immigrants arriving in Canada shifted from largely British and Western European to Asian (Indian, Filipino, Chinese).


Over thirty-five years later, 2024 saw the highest levels of immigration in over a decade. 483,390 new permanent residents arrived in Canada, and approximately 292,970 new international students received permits. At the same time, housing and healthcare issues within the country came to a head. 


Long wait times in hospital emergency rooms and the shortage of family doctors are among the many issues the Canadian healthcare system faces, which have led to worsening patient outcomes. Similarly, rent prices in Canada rose 5.9 percent in 2024 compared to 2023. The Toronto metropolitan area, in particular, saw an overall 5.1 percent increase in rent for two-bedroom units, from $2,560 in the first quarter of 2019 to $2,690 in the first quarter of 2025. 


Canadians have raised concerns about the cost of living and quality of life with their members of parliament. During Canada’s last federal election and in its wake, both Conservative and Liberal politicians have used these pain points as campaign guideposts. This isn’t unusual, but something is different this time: Several mostly Conservative leaders and MPs have positioned international students as the main reason for their concerns. 


Immigration Minister Marc Miller and Ontario Premier Doug Ford have both placed blame for the rapid growth in international student enrollment on private colleges, with the federal Liberal Party going so far as to announce a cap on international student enrollment from 2025 to 2027. Further, according to the Centre of Excellence of the Canadian Federation, there has been a sharp rise in anti-immigration sentiment across all age groups in Canada. Online rhetoric, such as from notable TikTokers, is stoking anti-immigrant views. 


The Eye Opener, a Toronto Metropolitan University Newspaper, interviewed South Asian international students about the rise of xenophobia in Canada. Aasim Ul Haq Khwaja, a second-year business technology management student, said the first thing his family asks him when they call is whether he feels safe. Priyanka Prakash, a third-year food and nutrition student, and Harshi Shah, another third-year nutrition and food student, both said phone calls back home predominantly consist of family members asking about their safety in Toronto. 


Between 2020 and 2023, police in the Waterloo region logged 387 race-based hate crimes, with a significant increase in incidents targeting South Asians as international student numbers simultaneously surged. In 2023 alone, South Asians accounted for one in six reported race-based hate crimes, up from one in ten the previous year. Most of these crimes involved threats or graffiti, but 12 percent escalated to physical assault.


Via Waterloo Regional Police Service
Via Waterloo Regional Police Service

Meanwhile, in Ontario—the province with the second-highest cost of living—the Conservative Party plans to remove rent control, has expanded funding for private clinics to 300 times that of public hospitals, and has changed OSAP policies in favour of loans rather than grants, reducing post-secondary affordability. Politicians and government officials have yet to take accountability here. Hypothetically, if the influx of international students and immigrants is too great for our healthcare, living, and education systems, then there’s still a vital distinction to make: This is most likely a government policy failure, not necessarily the fault of international students and immigrants.


Whenever a country faces systemic failures, it’s easy to use immigrants as a tool to either bolster the economy or excuse governmental failures. Canada is no different, despite the “goodwill” pedestal it tends to stand on, courtesy of its proximity to the more overt anti-immigration practices in the US. International students have long been used as “cash cows” for underfunded public and private universities and colleges, especially in Ontario. They’ve worked jobs no one else wanted, particularly under-the-table jobs, which frequently resulted in unfair treatment and abuse in the workplace. Yet, amid rising housing prices and the cost of living rising exponentially each year, politicians seem more desperate, and therefore, more apt to use international students as scapegoats instead of repealing harmful policies. 


Currently, the federal government is looking to launch a new cap on international students by 2027. These sentiments were reinforced by King Charles and Prime Minister Mark Carney. As Canada continues to dismiss or ignore systemic issues within its society, the blame is bound to shift to another. 

Catherine Mwitta has a bachelor’s in creative writing from Kwantlen Polytechnic University and a certification in Journalism from Langara College. She is an editor at Augur Magazine and INKspire. Likewise, bylines at Stir Vancouver, SAD Mag, This Magazine, C Magazine and Bluffs Monitor.


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