As I write this, I reflect on how the conversation around environmental conservation in Kenya has evolved over the past few years. What once felt like a distant or elite issue is now undeniably local. The effects of environmental degradation, urbanisation, and climate change are all around us from the expanding skylines of devolved towns to the disappearing forests in our rural communities.
Urbanisation is no longer confined to Nairobi or Mombasa.[1] With devolution taking root after the 2010 Constitution, every county is witnessing its own form of growth. County headquarters are transforming into busy urban centres, bringing with them roads, apartments, malls, and office blocks. As concrete rises, trees fall. The construction boom, while a sign of progress, comes with an environmental cost, the loss of green spaces, shrinking water sources, and increasing pollution.
But the story doesn’t end with trees being cut to make way for buildings. A deeper, more complex conversation is emerging around the solutions being proposed to address environmental degradation particularly carbon markets. Carbon credits are often praised as innovative, market-based solutions to the climate crisis. The idea is that companies or countries can offset their carbon emissions by investing in environmental projects elsewhere, often in the Global South.[2]
On paper, this seems beneficial. But when you look closer, you begin to see the power imbalances embedded in the system. In Kenya, land is increasingly being acquired by foreign actors and corporations in the name of carbon offsetting. While this may appear as a form of green investment, the reality for local communities is often displacement, loss of access to land, and erosion of traditional ways of life. It raises a critical question: can a model that enriches already powerful actors while sidelining local communities ever be truly just?
Environmental justice must mean more than just protecting forests or reducing emissions. It must also mean protecting the rights and dignity of the people who have lived on and with the land for generations. We cannot afford to frame environmental protection in ways that exclude or disenfranchise communities under the guise of sustainability. If the goal is conservation, then it must be inclusive, equitable, and rooted in local leadership.
This year’s World Environment Day calls on us to reflect not just on the state of the planet, but on the human impact of our environmental choices. Rural communities often bear the brunt of pollution and the effects of climate change from erratic rainfall to prolonged droughts. Yet, they are rarely at the centre of national or global climate conversations.
Women, in particular, face disproportionate impacts from environmental degradation. In rural Kenya, women are responsible for fetching water, gathering firewood, and feeding their families. As natural resources become scarce, their burden increases. Climate change exacerbates gender inequalities, girls drop out of school to help with household tasks, women travel longer distances in search of water, and the risks of gender-based violence rise, especially during displacement.
Yet, despite their deep knowledge of local ecosystems and their critical roles in sustaining families and communities, women are often excluded from decision making processes on environmental policies. We must challenge this. Environmental justice is inseparable from gender justice. Solutions must centre the voices, experiences, and leadership of women if they are to be effective and sustainable.
As we move forward, Kenya needs a new model of conservation, one that is community-led, gender responsive, and grounded in equity. This means involving local people in environmental planning, recognising customary land rights, and ensuring that any external investment in nature benefits, rather than harms, those who live closest to it.
It also means rethinking the role of international donors and private sector actors in conservation. Climate finance and green projects must be designed with transparency, accountability, and meaningful community participation. Otherwise, we risk repeating the mistakes of the past: development without justice, conservation without consent.
The environment is not an abstract idea. It is our land, our rivers, our forests the sources of our survival and identity. As urbanisation accelerates and the climate crisis deepens, we must resist solutions that put profit over people. We must insist on approaches that protect both the planet and the dignity of its most vulnerable stewards.
This World Environment Day, let us recommit to building an environmental movement that is not just about sustainability, but about justice. Because without justice, there is no true sustainability.
[1] AP, Climate change and rapid urbanisation worsened the impact of East African rains, scientists say, May 2024
[2] Frontiers in Environmental Science, Carbon markets, energy transition, and green development: a moderated dual mediation model, August 2023
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