As tensions escalate in the Middle East, US President Donald Trump has threatened to strike targets in Iran should they seek to retaliate over the killing of Qassem Soleimani. According to the president’s tweet, these sites includes those that are ‘important to Iran and Iranian culture’.

Defense Secretary Mark Esper was quick on Monday to rule out any such action and acknowledged that the US would ‘follow the laws of armed conflict’. But Trump has not since commented further on the matter.

Any move to target Iranian cultural heritage could constitute a breach of the international laws protecting cultural property. Attacks on cultural sites are deemed unlawful under two United Nations conventions; the 1954 Hague Convention for the Protection of Cultural Property during Armed Conflict, and the 1972 UNESCO World Heritage Convention for the Protection of the World Cultural and Natural Heritage.

These have established deliberate attacks on cultural heritage (when not militarily necessary) as a war crime under the Rome Statute of the International Criminal Court in recognition of the irreparable damage that the loss of cultural heritage can have locally, regionally and globally.

These conventions were established in the aftermath of the Second World War, in reaction to the legacy of the massive destruction of cultural property that took place, including the intense bombing of cities, and systematic plunder of artworks across Europe. The conventions recognize that damage to the cultural property of any people means ‘damage to the cultural heritage of all mankind’. The intention of these is to establish a new norm whereby protecting culture and history – that includes cultural and historical property – is as important as safeguarding people.

Such historical sites are important not simply as a matter of buildings and statues, but rather for their symbolic significance in a people’s history and identity. Destroying cultural artefacts is a direct attack on the identity of the population that values them, erasing their memories and historical legacy. Following the heavy bombing of Dresden during the Second World War, one resident summed up the psychological impact of such destruction in observing that ‘you expect people to die, but you don’t expect the buildings to die’.

Targeting sites of cultural significance isn’t just an act of intimidation during conflict. It can also have a lasting effect far beyond the cessation of violence, hampering post-conflict reconciliation and reconstruction, where ruins or the absence of previously significant cultural monuments act as a lasting physical reminder of hostilities.

For example, during the Bosnian War in the 1990s, the Old Bridge in Mostar represented a symbol of centuries of shared cultural heritage and peaceful co-existence between the Serbian and Croat communities. The bridge’s destruction in 1993 at the height of the civil war and the temporary cable bridge which took its place acted as a lasting reminder of the bitter hostilities, prompting its reconstruction a decade later as a mark of the reunification of the ethnically divided town.

More recently, the destruction of cultural property has been a feature of terrorist organizations, such as the Taliban’s demolition of the 1,700-year-old Buddhas of Bamiyan in 2001, eliciting international condemnation. Similarly, in Iraq in 2014 following ISIS’s seizure of the city of Mosul, the terrorist group set about systematically destroying a number of cultural sites, including the Great Mosque of al-Nuri with its leaning minaret, which had stood since 1172. And in Syria, the ancient city of Palmyra was destroyed by ISIS in 2015, who attacked its archaeological sites with bulldozers and explosives.

Such violations go beyond destruction: they include the looting of archaeological sites and trafficking of cultural objects, which are used to finance terrorist activities, which are also prohibited under the 1954 Hague Convention.

As a war crime, the destruction of cultural property has been successfully prosecuted in the International Criminal Court, which sentenced Ahmad Al-Faqi Al-Mahdi to nine years in jail in 2016 for his part in the destruction of the Timbuktu mausoleums in Mali. Mahdi led members of Al-Qaeda in the Islamic Maghreb to destroy mausoleums and monuments of cultural and religious importance in Timbuktu, irreversibly erasing what the chief prosecutor described as ‘the embodiment of Malian history captured in tangible form from an era long gone’.

Targeting cultural property is prohibited under customary international humanitarian law, not only by the Hague Convention. But the Convention sets out detailed regulations for protection of such property, and it has taken some states a lot of time to provide for these.

Although the UK was an original signatory to the 1954 Hague Convention, it did not ratify it until 2017, introducing into law the Cultural Property (Armed Conflicts) Act 2017, and setting up the Cultural Protection Fund to safeguard heritage of international importance threatened by conflict in countries across the Middle East and North Africa.

Ostensibly, the UK’s delay in ratifying the convention lay in concerns over the definition of key terms and adequate criminal sanctions, which were addressed in the Second Protocol in 1999. However, changing social attitudes towards the plunder of antiquities, and an alarming increase in the use of cultural destruction as a weapon of war by extremist groups to eliminate cultures that do not align with their own ideology, eventually compelled the UK to act.

In the US, it is notoriously difficult to get the necessary majority for the approval of any treaty in the Senate; for the Hague Convention, approval was achieved in 2008, following which the US ratified the Convention in 2009.

Destroying the buildings and monuments which form the common heritage of humanity is to wipe out the physical record of who we are. People are people within a place, and they draw meaning about who they are from their surroundings. Religious buildings, historical sites, works of art, monuments and historic artefacts all tell the story of who we are and how we got here. We have a responsibility to protect them.

Currently 73% of all UK agricultural imports come from the EU. That heavy dependence sparked a report by the British parliament expressing concern about the UK’s food security in the immediate aftermath of Brexit.

Meanwhile, Latin America’s agricultural powerhouses Brazil and Argentina only accounted for a total of 1.6% of the UK’s agricultural market across eight sectors in 2018. A growing relationship would seem to be an obvious fit post-Brexit – but a number of structural issues stand in the way.

There is certainly scope for increasing Latin American agricultural exports to the UK given current trade patterns. Two of the main agricultural imports that the UK buys from the EU are meat products, representing 82% of UK imports in that category, and dairy products and eggs; 98% of UK’s dairy- and egg-related external supply came from the EU. In both these areas, Brazil and Argentina could have comparative advantages, including lower prices.

But any improvement in agricultural trade links will depend on two factors: 1) how the UK leaves the EU: whether it crashes out, negotiates an easy exit or leaves at all; and 2) whether Latin American agricultural producers can improve their environmental practices and can meet the production standards established by the EU and likely maintained by a post-Brexit Britain.

Some of the key issues that will affect this are:

Tariff structures

On the UK side, there is pressure by domestic agricultural producers to raise UK tariffs to allow them to expand their local market share. Yet, despite the pressures from local farmers, the UK has laid out two scenarios.

In one case, the UK government has stated that in the event of a no-deal Brexit, tariffs will be lowered to 0%, but there is no firm commitment and this would likely be temporary. It is also unlikely that those would apply to all agricultural products. In the case of beef imports (of which Argentina and Brazil are major exporters), the UK has proposed that ‘no deal’ would bring a reduction on tariffs on a range of beef products of roughly half.

Meanwhile, tariffs on EU imports could go up. Even if the UK establishes 0% tariffs on EU products, it’s possible that the EU will not reciprocate, instead choosing to revert to the World Trade Organization’s most-favoured-nation tariffs. To take one example of what that would mean, under existing most-favoured-nation tariffs on beef, the tariffs range from €6.80 per 100 kilograms of full bovine carcasses or half carcasses all the way up to €161.10 for 160 kilograms of prepared or preserved meat, including sausages.

Free trade agreements between the EU and Latin American countries

The EU has free trade agreements with the Central American bloc of Costa Rica, El Salvador, Guatemala, Honduras, Nicaragua and Panama; Mexico; Chile; and the Andean countries of Colombia, Ecuador, and Peru. In all those cases, the UK has expressed its desire to maintain its liberal trade framework with those countries.

Even if the UK leaves without a deal and tariffs do increase on EU agricultural exports, though, these Western Hemisphere economies are unlikely to see a large boost in their food exports to the UK. Chile and other large fruit producers are already locked into the Chinese market. And the real agricultural powerhouses, Argentina and Brazil, are now part of the EU trade agreement with Mercosur.

Since that agreement is not yet in force, the UK and Mercosur would need to negotiate a separate agreement. Such an agreement may be easier to ratify than the EU agreement since there is only one partner (the UK) for such a deal, but the likely change in government in Argentina after the 27 October elections may make it difficult to secure a deal on the Mercosur side.

Some EU trade agreements also include arrangements for tariff rate quotas. An EU quota with Argentina, for example, allows more than 280,000 tonnes of lamb to be imported to the EU duty free from Argentina, among other countries. It is unclear whether these quotas will be maintained or even expanded by the UK post-Brexit.  

Phytosanitary standards and rules governing the treatment of animals

Non-tariff barriers concerning production practices could play a key role. The large UK consumer organization Which? raised the concern before parliament that in the scramble to replace EU food imports, the UK could diverge from EU standards on animal cloning, the use of growth hormones and hygiene in poultry production. Pressure to maintain those standards would likely exclude many products from South America.

Beyond the regulatory barriers, there is also the possibility that UK consumers may reject agricultural products produced in less sustainable and humane conditions, or in countries (such as Brazil) that are seen by the public as abusing the environment.

In short, an increase in Latin American agricultural exports to the UK market may not happen as easily or as quickly as some hope after Brexit. In fact, it may not happen at all. But if Latin American countries – Argentina and Brazil in particular – want to capture this potential new market, the first step both should be to improve their environmental profile and standards at both the government and producer level.

Violations against cultural property – such as archaeological treasures, artworks, museums or historical sites – can be no less detrimental to the survival of a nation than the physical persecution of its people. These assaults on heritage ensure the hegemony of some nations and distort the imprint of other nations in world history, sometimes to the point of eradication.

As contemporary armed conflicts in Syria, Ukraine and Yemen demonstrate, cultural property violations are not only a matter of the colonial past; they continue to be perpetrated, often in new, intricate ways.

Understandably, from a moral perspective, it is more often the suffering of persons, rather than any kind of ‘cultural’ destruction, that receives the most attention from humanitarian aid providers, the media or the courts. Indeed, the extent of the damage caused by an assault on cultural property is not always immediately evident, but the result can be a threat to the survival of a people. This is strikingly exemplified by what is currently happening in Crimea.

Ukraine’s Crimean peninsula has been occupied by Russia since February 2014, meaning that, under international law, the two states have been involved in an international armed conflict for the last six years.

While much attention has been paid to the alleged war crimes perpetrated by the occupying power, reports by international organizations and the International Criminal Court (ICC) have been less vocal on the issue of cultural property in Crimea. Where they do raise it, they tend to confine their findings to the issue of misappropriation.

However, as part of its larger policy of the annexation and Russification of the peninsula and its history, Russia has gone far beyond misappropriation.

Crimean artefacts have been transferred to Russia – without security justification or Ukrainian authorization as required by the international law of occupation – to be showcased at exhibitions celebrating Russia’s own cultural heritage. In 2016, the Tretyakov Gallery in Moscow staged its record-breaking Aivazovsky exhibition, which included 38 artworks from the Aivazovsky Museum in the Crimean town of Feodosia.

Other ‘cultural’ violations in the region include numerous unsanctioned archaeological excavations, whose findings are often unlawfully exported to Russia or end up on the black market.

There is also the example of Russia’s plan to establish a museum of Christianity in Ukraine’s UNESCO World Heritage site, the Ancient City of Tauric Chersonese. This is an indication of Russia’s policy of asserting itself as a bastion of Orthodox Christianity and culture in the Slavic world, with Crimea as one of the centres.

The harmful effects of Russia’s destructive cultural property policy can be seen in the situation of the Crimean Tatars, Ukraine’s indigenous Muslim people. Already depleted by a Stalin-ordered deportation in 1944 and previously repressed by the Russian Empire, the Crimean Tatars are now facing the destruction of much of the remainder of their heritage.

For example, Muslim burial grounds have been demolished to build the Tavrida Highway, which leads to the newly built Kerch Bridge connecting the peninsula to Russia.

The destructive reconstruction of the 16th-century Bakhchysarai Palace – the only remaining complete architectural ensemble of the indigenous people, included in the UNESCO World Heritage Tentative List – is another example of how the very identity of the Crimean Tatars is being threatened. This reconstruction is being conducted by a team with no experience of cultural sites, in a manner that erodes its authenticity and historical value – which is precisely as Russia intends.

There is a solid body of international and domestic law covering Russia’s treatment of Crimea’s cultural property.

Under the 1954 Hague Convention for the Protection of Cultural Property in the Event of Armed Conflict – ratified by both Ukraine and Russia – the occupying power must facilitate the safeguarding efforts of the national authorities in occupied territories. States parties must prevent any vandalism or misappropriation of cultural property, and, according to the first protocol of the convention, the occupying power is required to prevent any export of artefacts from the occupied territory.

The 1907 Hague Regulations and the 1949 Fourth Geneva Convention confirm that the authentic domestic legislation continues to apply in occupied territories. This leaves Russia with no excuse for non-compliance with Ukraine’s cultural property laws and imposing its own rules unless absolutely necessary.

Besides, both Ukrainian and Russian criminal codes penalise pillage in occupied territory, as well as unsanctioned archaeological excavations. As an occupying power, Russia must not just abstain from such wrongdoings in Crimea, but also duly investigate and prosecute the alleged misconduct.

The clarity of the international legal situation demonstrates that no exhibitions in continental Russia and no archaeological excavations which are not sanctioned by Ukraine can be justified. Likewise, any renovation or use of cultural sites, especially those on permanent or tentative UNESCO lists, must only be conducted pursuant to consultancy with and approval of the Ukrainian authorities.

But the resonance of the Crimean case goes beyond law and touches on issues of the very survival of a people. The Soviet deportation of the Crimean Tatars in 1944 did not only result in the deaths of individuals. Their footprints in Crimea have been gradually erased by baseless treason charges, the long exile of the indigenous community from their native lands and ongoing persecution.

First the Soviet Union and now Russia have targeted the Crimean Tatars’ cultural heritage to undermine their significance in the general historical narrative, making attempts to preserve or celebrate this culture seem futile. Russia is thus imposing its own historical and political hegemony at the expense of the Crimean Tatar and Ukrainian layers of Crimean history.

As exemplified by occupied Crimea, the manipulation and exploitation of cultural heritage can serve an occupying power’s wider policies of appropriating history and asserting its own dominance. Domestic cultural property proceedings are challenging due to the lack of access to the occupied territory, but they should still be pursued.

More effort is needed in the following areas: case prioritization; informing the documenters of alleged violations about the spectrum of cultural property crimes; developing domestic investigative and prosecutorial capacity, including by involving foreign expert consultancy; more proactively seeking bilateral and multilateral cooperation in art crime cases; liaising with auction houses (to track down objects originating from war-affected areas) and museums (to prevent the exhibition of the artefacts from occupied territories).

When possible, cultural property crimes should also be reported to the ICC.

Additionally, more international – public, policy, media and jurisprudential – attention to such violations is needed. Societies, courts and policymakers should have a clearer awareness that assaults against cultural heritage constitute a creeping encroachment on a people’s identity, endangering its very survival.

Violations against cultural property – such as archaeological treasures, artworks, museums or historical sites – can be no less detrimental to the survival of a nation than the physical persecution of its people. These assaults on heritage ensure the hegemony of some nations and distort the imprint of other nations in world history, sometimes to the point of eradication.

As contemporary armed conflicts in Syria, Ukraine and Yemen demonstrate, cultural property violations are not only a matter of the colonial past; they continue to be perpetrated, often in new, intricate ways.

Understandably, from a moral perspective, it is more often the suffering of persons, rather than any kind of ‘cultural’ destruction, that receives the most attention from humanitarian aid providers, the media or the courts. Indeed, the extent of the damage caused by an assault on cultural property is not always immediately evident, but the result can be a threat to the survival of a people. This is strikingly exemplified by what is currently happening in Crimea.

Ukraine’s Crimean peninsula has been occupied by Russia since February 2014, meaning that, under international law, the two states have been involved in an international armed conflict for the last six years.

While much attention has been paid to the alleged war crimes perpetrated by the occupying power, reports by international organizations and the International Criminal Court (ICC) have been less vocal on the issue of cultural property in Crimea. Where they do raise it, they tend to confine their findings to the issue of misappropriation.

However, as part of its larger policy of the annexation and Russification of the peninsula and its history, Russia has gone far beyond misappropriation.

Crimean artefacts have been transferred to Russia – without security justification or Ukrainian authorization as required by the international law of occupation – to be showcased at exhibitions celebrating Russia’s own cultural heritage. In 2016, the Tretyakov Gallery in Moscow staged its record-breaking Aivazovsky exhibition, which included 38 artworks from the Aivazovsky Museum in the Crimean town of Feodosia.

Other ‘cultural’ violations in the region include numerous unsanctioned archaeological excavations, whose findings are often unlawfully exported to Russia or end up on the black market.

There is also the example of Russia’s plan to establish a museum of Christianity in Ukraine’s UNESCO World Heritage site, the Ancient City of Tauric Chersonese. This is an indication of Russia’s policy of asserting itself as a bastion of Orthodox Christianity and culture in the Slavic world, with Crimea as one of the centres.

The harmful effects of Russia’s destructive cultural property policy can be seen in the situation of the Crimean Tatars, Ukraine’s indigenous Muslim people. Already depleted by a Stalin-ordered deportation in 1944 and previously repressed by the Russian Empire, the Crimean Tatars are now facing the destruction of much of the remainder of their heritage.

For example, Muslim burial grounds have been demolished to build the Tavrida Highway, which leads to the newly built Kerch Bridge connecting the peninsula to Russia.

The destructive reconstruction of the 16th-century Bakhchysarai Palace – the only remaining complete architectural ensemble of the indigenous people, included in the UNESCO World Heritage Tentative List – is another example of how the very identity of the Crimean Tatars is being threatened. This reconstruction is being conducted by a team with no experience of cultural sites, in a manner that erodes its authenticity and historical value – which is precisely as Russia intends.

There is a solid body of international and domestic law covering Russia’s treatment of Crimea’s cultural property.

Under the 1954 Hague Convention for the Protection of Cultural Property in the Event of Armed Conflict – ratified by both Ukraine and Russia – the occupying power must facilitate the safeguarding efforts of the national authorities in occupied territories. States parties must prevent any vandalism or misappropriation of cultural property, and, according to the first protocol of the convention, the occupying power is required to prevent any export of artefacts from the occupied territory.

The 1907 Hague Regulations and the 1949 Fourth Geneva Convention confirm that the authentic domestic legislation continues to apply in occupied territories. This leaves Russia with no excuse for non-compliance with Ukraine’s cultural property laws and imposing its own rules unless absolutely necessary.

Besides, both Ukrainian and Russian criminal codes penalise pillage in occupied territory, as well as unsanctioned archaeological excavations. As an occupying power, Russia must not just abstain from such wrongdoings in Crimea, but also duly investigate and prosecute the alleged misconduct.

The clarity of the international legal situation demonstrates that no exhibitions in continental Russia and no archaeological excavations which are not sanctioned by Ukraine can be justified. Likewise, any renovation or use of cultural sites, especially those on permanent or tentative UNESCO lists, must only be conducted pursuant to consultancy with and approval of the Ukrainian authorities.

But the resonance of the Crimean case goes beyond law and touches on issues of the very survival of a people. The Soviet deportation of the Crimean Tatars in 1944 did not only result in the deaths of individuals. Their footprints in Crimea have been gradually erased by baseless treason charges, the long exile of the indigenous community from their native lands and ongoing persecution.

First the Soviet Union and now Russia have targeted the Crimean Tatars’ cultural heritage to undermine their significance in the general historical narrative, making attempts to preserve or celebrate this culture seem futile. Russia is thus imposing its own historical and political hegemony at the expense of the Crimean Tatar and Ukrainian layers of Crimean history.

As exemplified by occupied Crimea, the manipulation and exploitation of cultural heritage can serve an occupying power’s wider policies of appropriating history and asserting its own dominance. Domestic cultural property proceedings are challenging due to the lack of access to the occupied territory, but they should still be pursued.

More effort is needed in the following areas: case prioritization; informing the documenters of alleged violations about the spectrum of cultural property crimes; developing domestic investigative and prosecutorial capacity, including by involving foreign expert consultancy; more proactively seeking bilateral and multilateral cooperation in art crime cases; liaising with auction houses (to track down objects originating from war-affected areas) and museums (to prevent the exhibition of the artefacts from occupied territories).

When possible, cultural property crimes should also be reported to the ICC.

Additionally, more international – public, policy, media and jurisprudential – attention to such violations is needed. Societies, courts and policymakers should have a clearer awareness that assaults against cultural heritage constitute a creeping encroachment on a people’s identity, endangering its very survival.

Increasing agricultural productivity and adapting farming to climate change are central to Africa’s development prospects. There are important opportunities to enhance yields and increase resilience through the adoption of improved crop varieties. In some cases, biotechnology, and in particular genetic modification (GM), offers advantages over conventional plant-breeding approaches. Accordingly there are a various projects under way to develop new GM varieties for African farmers, ranging from drought-resistant maize to varieties of cassava, banana, sorghum, cowpea and sweet potato with resistance to pests and disease.

In addition to government funds, these projects have also attracted the support of influential donor agencies and philanthropic foundations. However, despite the expenditure of considerable resources, the potential of GM in Africa is not being realized. So far no GM trait developed for African farmers has been put to use.

Multiple barriers inhibit the development and adoption of pro-poor GM varieties in Africa. On the demand side, farmers may be reluctant to adopt GM varieties owing to a lack of export opportunities and distrust of the technology among local consumers. Farmers may also be concerned about exploitation by transnational seed companies (despite the fact that development of new GM technologies in Africa is dominated by the public sector). On the supply side, donor funding struggles to match the long timescales of research and development, while incentives among research scientists may be poorly aligned with farmer outcomes. Non-existent, poorly functioning or overly punitive regulatory regimes discourage investment.

The most important barriers – such as regulatory constraints, consumer distrust and weak farmer demand – must be understood in the context of wider social and political dynamics surrounding GM, typified by misinformation, polarized public discourse, and dysfunctional and opportunistic politics. The result is most GM projects becoming ‘stuck’ at the field trial stage without ever progressing to release. This ‘convenient deadlock’ of continual field trials allows governments to manage political risks by effectively balancing the demands of pro-GM and anti-GM lobbies – proponents of GM have a pipeline of technologies, while opponents are appeased by the failure of any to gain approval. The disabling socio-political environment for GM development in Africa greatly reduces the efficacy of investment in this technology.

This has two important implications. First, technology development needs to be located within a wider project of transformation that engages key actors – most notably politicians, policy-makers and farmers – as stakeholders from the outset, and includes strategies to address multiple demand- and supply-side barriers. Second, successful adoption is more likely in countries with less disabling political conditions, characterized by lower levels of consumer distrust and opposition, genuine farmer demand and demonstrable commitment from government. Focusing efforts and resources on a small number of ‘best bet’ countries will also allow donors and technology providers to support more ambitious, transformational projects led by national governments.

As part of the international dialogue on Valuing Vital Resources, this seminar will convene policy-makers, scholars, technical practitioners, NGOs, multilateral agencies and the media to discuss recommendations for new policy approaches in India to reorient energy and water use in agriculture. The aim is to gain input to practical policy proposals and identify the work now needed to make them robust. 

Attendance is by invitation only. Please note this event is held in New Delhi, all times are local. 

This event is organized together with the CUTS Institute for Regulation & Competition (CIRC).

This transatlantic dialogue will bring together a number of stakeholders, focused on options for reducing deforestation in agricultural supply chains. Key questions will be asked such as: What are the current and projected patterns of supply and demand for key commodities, and their impacts on forests? Who are the key producers and what is their relative impact on forests? How are these patterns likely to change in the future? What are the key points of leverage in these supply chains? What is the scope of potential action by the US, the EU, and its member states?

The current status and future trends in the global production and trade in major agricultural commodities will also be examined, along with the key leverage points for influence. Global forest footprint of major agricultural commodities and deforestation hotspots will be discussed and key drivers of deforestation will be examined. Finally, the potential roles of government in reducing commodity-driven deforestation will be analysed to gain a better understanding of the potential for state action in the EU and the US contexts.

Attendance at this event is by invitation only.

Summary

• Procurement policy has been used effectively to exclude illegal and unsustainable timber from consumer-country markets.
• As the public sector is a major purchaser of food and catering services for schools, nurseries, hospitals, care homes, canteens, prisons and the military, public procurement policies in this area clearly have the potential to promote the uptake of sustainable products not associated with deforestation.
• Many public authorities, particularly at local and regional level, already have a procurement policy for food; in principle, criteria for sustainable production could be incorporated relatively easily.
• Some products – particularly palm oil, cocoa, coffee and tea – are better suited than others to this approach; for all these products, voluntary certification initiatives currently under way could provide identification mechanisms on which procurement policies could rest.
• Other commodities may not be as suited to procurement policy, and it may be more effective to use other regulations; this applies particularly to soy, for which biofuel regulations are likely to have a bigger impact.
• In cases in which private-sector initiatives are under way to achieve 100 per cent sustainable imports (such a target has been set for palm oil in several countries), procurement policy may be unnecessary. In other cases, the adoption of a new procurement policy could serve as the spur to a private-sector initiative. 

• Clearance of forests for agriculture is a major cause of deforestation worldwide; the three most significant commodities in this regard are palm oil, soy and beef, which between them accounted for an estimated 76 per cent of the deforestation associated with agriculture in 1990–2008. International markets are an important driver of demand, particularly for palm oil and soy.
• Global production of palm oil has grown strongly for several decades, more than doubling over the period 2000–13. Indonesia and Malaysia between them account for more than 80 per cent of palm oil production, and are likely to continue to dominate world exports. The European Union (EU), India and China are the main consumers, importing almost 60 per cent of the market; EU demand is driven significantly by biofuel policy, while India and China use palm oil mainly as a cooking oil and in processed foods.
• Global production of soybeans has roughly doubled since 2000, and the expansion of output has been particularly rapid in South America; Brazil and Argentina accounted for almost 50 per cent of global production in 2013. Overwhelmingly the main importer is China (which took 43 per cent of all soy imports in 2014), mainly for animal feed for its growing meat industry. The EU is the second largest importer, using soy for animal feed and biofuel.
• In contrast, consumption and production of beef has grown only slowly. Major producers are the US, Brazil, the EU and China; principal exporters are Brazil, India, Australia and the US. The US and the EU are still major consumers, although – as in most developed countries – consumption is falling slightly; other significant consumers include Brazil, India, Pakistan and China. Russia and Japan are also significant importers.
• Three main factors underlie the growth in both consumption and production of palm oil and soy: population growth; changing dietary preferences; and policy support for biofuels. The first two are just as relevant to beef. Continued growth in world population and the expansion of the global middle class, with accompanying higher consumption levels of processed food and meat, will continue to drive demand upwards – strongly for palm oil and soy, more weakly for beef. Given the difficulty of increasing yields, particularly in developing countries, the further expansion of agricultural land into forest areas is inevitable. None the less, three other factors may restrict this growth: the private-sector commitments and government policies that are being developed with the aim of decoupling agricultural production from deforestation; a loss of support for biofuels, most notably in the EU; and health concerns, particularly over the consumption of palm oil and beef.