Illegal Logging Turns Syria's Forests into 'Barren Land'

A woman on a donkey carrying wood from trees cut at the Mount Abdulaziz nature reserve outside Hasakeh. Delil SOULEIMAN / AFP
A woman on a donkey carrying wood from trees cut at the Mount Abdulaziz nature reserve outside Hasakeh. Delil SOULEIMAN / AFP
TT
20

Illegal Logging Turns Syria's Forests into 'Barren Land'

A woman on a donkey carrying wood from trees cut at the Mount Abdulaziz nature reserve outside Hasakeh. Delil SOULEIMAN / AFP
A woman on a donkey carrying wood from trees cut at the Mount Abdulaziz nature reserve outside Hasakeh. Delil SOULEIMAN / AFP

On a riverbank in war-ravaged Syria's north, felling has reduced what was once a lush forest to dispersed trees and decimated trunks poking out from dry, crumbly soil.

Twelve years of conflict that led to a spike in illegal logging, along with the effects of climate change and other factors, have eroded Syria's greenery, said AFP.

The dwindling forest on the shores of the Euphrates river "is shrinking every year", said Ahmed al-Sheikh, 40, a supermarket owner in the village of Jaabar, in the Kurdish-held part of Syria's Raqa province.

Before, "the forest would attract tourists, birds, purify the air and protect the area from dust storms", he said.

But fuel shortages and rampant poverty during the war have pushed many Syrians to chop the trees to sell or use for heating, dealing a blow to the nature surrounding Jaabar.

Its ancient citadel had made the village a popular pre-war tourist attraction, with a reforestation project launched in the mid-1990s offering rare respite from the searing heat.

"Some people cut down the trees to sell them and earn money, others to keep warm during the winter," Sheikh said.
"If this goes on, desertification will follow."

Residents told AFP they hear loggers riding motorbikes into the forest at night to cut down trees.

Even in broad daylight, young men sneak into the woods to chop trees, evading the handful of forest guards patrolling the vast, green spaces.

'No shade left'
Syria's war has killed more than 500,000 people and displaced millions.

It has also devastated the environment, triggering an "alarming" loss of forest cover across the country, Dutch peacebuilding group PAX warned in a report earlier this year.

The country has witnessed a "26-percent decrease in tree cover since 2000", according to data from Global Forest Watch.

Ten kilometers (six miles) from Jaabar, the same fate has befallen the trees of Tuwayhina.

"In my childhood, we used to come here with friends to sit under the shade of eucalyptus and pine trees," said Mohammed Ali, surrounded by tree trunks scattered across the sun-scorched earth.

"But now it is a barren land," said the 30-year-old nurse. "Now, there is no shade left, only the heat of the sun everywhere."

"The dust storms never stop, the lake is drying up and there are no trees left," Ali said, referring to Lake Assad, Syria's largest freshwater dam reservoir.

Water levels have dropped and pollution has worsened in the Euphrates and the reservoir it feeds, with the river's flow further impacted by upstream dams in Türkiye.

Deforestation in Syria is largely attributed to logging and thinning for firewood, according to the PAX report.

"Soaring fuel prices combined with massive displacement form the main driver for large-scale deforestation throughout Syria," it said.

"Civilians are cutting down trees for cooking and heating, while there are clear indications that armed groups also use illegal logging and wood sales as a source of income."

'Blanket of greenery'
The once-dense forests of Syria's west "have suffered the most degradation caused by the war", mostly from tree felling and wildfires, PAX said.

Latakia, Hama, Homs and Idlib provinces lost at least 36 percent of their trees in the decade following 2011, when the conflict erupted, according to PAX.

In the northeast, authorities have "no precise data" about the damage but its impact is "obvious", Ibrahim Asaad, who co-chairs the Kurdish semi-autonomous administration's environment body, told AFP.

The area was the country's breadbasket in pre-war times, but has witnessed severe droughts and reduced rainfall in recent years.

On the outskirts of Hasakeh, a city further east, the Mount Abdulaziz reserve has been plagued by dry spells and some illegal logging.

The trees had provided a "blanket of greenery", said Hussein Saleh al-Helou, a 65-year-old resident of the village of Al-Naseri.

But now "there is no water, the trees near the village have withered... and people have started cutting them", he told AFP, surrounded by vast barren lands and hills.

"Logging has had a huge impact on the village," Helou said.

"The temperature has risen, and the weather is not the same any more."



Dutch Coastal Village Turns to Tech to Find Lost Fishermen

Volunteers from the local fishing community in Urk have launched a campaign using DNA analysis and artificial intelligence to locate the remains of fishermen lost at sea. Nicolas TUCAT / AFP
Volunteers from the local fishing community in Urk have launched a campaign using DNA analysis and artificial intelligence to locate the remains of fishermen lost at sea. Nicolas TUCAT / AFP
TT
20

Dutch Coastal Village Turns to Tech to Find Lost Fishermen

Volunteers from the local fishing community in Urk have launched a campaign using DNA analysis and artificial intelligence to locate the remains of fishermen lost at sea. Nicolas TUCAT / AFP
Volunteers from the local fishing community in Urk have launched a campaign using DNA analysis and artificial intelligence to locate the remains of fishermen lost at sea. Nicolas TUCAT / AFP

Jan van den Berg stares out at the sea where his father vanished seven decades ago -- lost in a storm just days before his birth. Now aged 70, he clings to the hope of finding even the smallest fragment of his father's remains.

In Urk, a fishing village in the northern Netherlands, the sea has long been the lifeblood for families -- but has often taken loved ones in return.

Some bodies never surfaced. Others washed ashore on German or Danish coasts and were buried in unnamed graves.

Despite the tragedy, Van den Berg -- the last of six children -- became a fisherman like his brothers, defying their mother's terror that the North Sea would claim her sons too.

"We never found his body," he told AFP in a low voice, mumbling under the brim of his hat.

But after decades of uncertainty, advances in DNA technology and artificial intelligence have given Van den Berg renewed hope.

Researchers are now able to match remains with living relatives more accurately than ever before, offering families long-awaited answers and the chance to finally mourn properly.

"Many families still gaze at the front door, hoping their loved-one will walk through it," said Teun Hakvoort, an Urk resident who serves as spokesperson for a new foundation dedicated to locating and identifying fishermen lost at sea.

"All sunken boats have been mapped. Using modern tech, we look at the weather and currents at the time of the shipwreck to estimate where the fishermen might have washed ashore," the 60-year-old said.

Found after 47 years

The foundation, Identiteit Gezocht (Identity Sought), aims to list all unknown graves on the coasts of the North Sea, hoping to identify remains.

The new searches have already borne fruit. A body was recently exhumed on Schiermonnikoog, a small island north of the Netherlands, and returned to the family.

"This man had been missing for 47 years. After all this time, DNA and this new method of work made it possible to discover he came from Urk," said Hakvoort.

Another Hakvoort, Frans Hakvoort, leads the foundation with the support of his two brothers in Urk, a tight-knit Protestant community where certain family names frequently reoccur.

The three men, who have all lost a relative at sea, dedicate their free time to searching for the missing.

"With AI, we search for press articles published after a body washed ashore, possibly in specific circumstances," said Frans Hakvoort, 44.

"We enter all this information into a database to see if we can establish a link. If so, we contact local authorities to see if they can exhume the body."

The Netherlands leads other North Sea countries in identifying the missing, he said, with about 90 percent of unknown bodies exhumed and all DNA profiles stored in a European database.

Given the usual fishing areas and prevailing currents, Urk fishermen are more likely to be buried on German or Danish coasts, he said.

The foundation has called on the public to help identify unknown graves in Germany and Denmark.

Human remains

Jan van den Berg runs his fingers over his father's name, engraved on a monument overlooking Urk beach to honor lost fishermen.

The list is long. More than 300 names -- fathers, brothers, and sons, with dates stretching back to the 18th century.

Among the names are about 30 fishermen never found. Kees Korf, missing since 1997 aged 19. Americo Martins, 47, in 2015.

A statue of a woman, her back turned to the sea, represents all these mothers and wives hoping their loved-one returns.

"My father disappeared during a storm on a freezing October night in 1954," says Van den Berg.

"One morning he left the port heading for the North Sea. He was not supposed to be gone long because I was about to be born."

His uncle, who was also aboard, later said his father was on deck when wild waves flipped the boat over.

The tragedy still haunts the family to this day.

"When they pulled the nets on deck with fish, my older brothers always feared there might be something that looked like a human," van den Berg said.

In 1976, his uncle's boat disappeared with two of his cousins, aged 15 and 17, also on board.

He was among those who found the body of Jan Jurie, the eldest, four months later.

The others were never found.

"Not a day goes by without thinking of them, all those men, and that is why I take part in the searches and give my DNA, because it remains an open wound," he said.

"I would like to have at least a small bone of my father to place in my mother's grave." And finally be able to mourn.