The climate crisis is essentially a story of water. This is the story of an unsettling extreme event: floods and droughts. As Emily Dickinson said, "Water comes from thirst. Land - from the ocean."
This desire is growing, and by the end of this century, freshwater demand will exceed 40% of the supply. Half of the world's population is experiencing water shortages. Since Dickinson's death in the 1880s, the average global sea level has risen by 21 to 26 cm.
It is against this backdrop that the United Nations Ocean Conference opened in Nice on Monday and is co-sponsored by France and Costa Rica. As the decade of the Ocean is approaching halfway, this is one of our last chances to mobilize resources, actions and knowledge to protect the planet.
As a British Turkish writer, I come from a region with scarce freshwater resources, where the freshwater shortage is not an abstract assumption about the future, but a grim reality at the moment. Of the 25 most water-strength countries today, most are located in the Middle East and North Africa. Lack of drinking water affects everything and exacerbates extremism.
Our rivers are drying up and drying up—the river bank is retreating a little bit every day. This loss has a huge impact on everyone, but the biggest burden is women, children and the poor.
The lack of drinking water affects everything, exacerbating poverty, unemployment and extremism. It also intensifies gender violence.
Women in traditional society deliver water to their communities. When there is no drinking water nearby, the distance young women need to walk increases, which increases their likelihood of violence.
In our minds, we tend to divide all these issues into very different categories: here is the "climate crisis", here is the "freshwater shortage", and there is "gender inequality" or "racial disparity."
But in reality, everything is closely related. Literature reminds us of the importance of these connections. It also cleverly dismantles the binary opposition between "we" and "they", re-given humanity to those who are dehumanized, and makes those invisible things more visible.
In my novel "There are rivers in the sky"I tracked a small drop of rain across time, culture and geographical boundaries. I focus on two rivers that I love deeply—the Thames and the Tigris.
The Tigris River has long been abused by dictators. In the 1990s, Saddam built a dam in the wetlands to drain the water source, cruelly destroying the swamp.
After the invasion of Iraq, the river was severely polluted by oil derivatives, industrial waste and military waste. Hundreds of bodies have been salvaged out of the water over the years, many of which have traces of torture.
Drought, pollution, upstream dams and heavy metal pollution destroyed the fragile ecosystems and biodiversity of the ancient Mesopotamia region.
The Thames River is a miracle. Two hundred years ago, it was roughly used as a dumping site for industrial waste and human waste; fifty years ago, some sections of the river were declared biological death. However, it is now home to many marine life.
We should admire the Thames and respect its ability to renew itself. However, this time, for greed and interests, the water company once again drained the sewage back to the waterway.
In 2023, the amount of untreated sewage discharged into England's rivers and oceans doubled.
The ocean has long been seen as an ally in the fight against climate change. They are the largest carbon sinks on the planet, absorbing 90% of the excess heat generated by greenhouse gas emissions.
But, like rivers, the ocean needs to be respected and protected. From seemingly trivial, inconspicuous seaweeds that can absorb 10% carbon, to coral reef ecosystems destroyed by heat waves in the water, our oceans need immediate action to protect them.
We are neither above nature nor outside nature. Our story is closely linked to fate. We are connected to each other as fellow humans and are closely related to the well-being of rivers and trees. Even a drop of fresh water cannot be taken for granted.
