Environment - Saigoneer

What I Talk About When I Talk About Vietnam's Penguin Trashcans

2025-10-31T11:00:00+07:00

Compared to the average Vietnamese, I might be thinking about trashcans a smidgen too much — not just any trashcan, but the infamous penguin-shaped trashcans that are ubiquitous at every corner of our public spaces.

You know what I’m talking about. These bins are usually the size of a burly child, made of glass fiber-reinforced plastic, and are shaped like penguins with their mouths agape. Sometimes a call-to-action text is painted on their belly, with the most commonly seen phrase being “hãy cho tôi rác / please give me trash.”

Vietnam’s relationship with littering, recycling, and waste management is complicated, to say the least, but our relationship with trashcans is very simple: we don’t have enough of them, and the ones that are available aren’t treated with the respect they deserve. This shortcoming makes each can’s presence quite noticeable wherever they’re around, especially quirkily designed ones like the penguin bin.

Cute but creepy, mostly creepy, in a Five Night at Freddy's kind of way.

Novelty trashcan is an uncommon genre of public amenities, but not unheard of; I’ve encountered all manner of bins in the shape of animals, fruits, and even famous cartoon characters like Mickey Mouse. Their natural habitats, however, tend to be areas that children often frequent, like playgrounds, amusement parks, and kindergartens. Only the penguin trashcan proliferates indiscriminately across the country, like Vietnam’s equivalent of the basic bird Pokémon you would spend 5 Poke Balls to catch at Level 5 on Route 1.

Why penguins, you may ask. I’ve thought about this a lot too, but alas, haven’t found a definitive answer. A handful of internet memes allude to the possible existence of a similar penguin design in the Anglosphere; they bear the text “use me,” the main reason why the internet found them funny. The majority of search results point to their significant prevalence in India and Vietnam; neither has endemic populations of penguins, but they share a similar public littering problem.

Perhaps it was a generic stock design that a contractor had readily available for park officials to buy in bulk, or perhaps the penguin was chosen for its unique biology that mirrors the gulping movement of trash — it doesn’t have teeth and consumes food by swallowing fish and crustaceans whole. We might never know. If you have the answer, please reach out.

When Pokemon Go first came to Vietnam, one of the penguin trashcans in Saigon got marked as a PokeStop.

Whatever the reason might be, some research has shown that visually striking can designs — including the use of eye-catching colors or unusual shapes — can help reduce littering by attracting human attention. There might be a method to the madness, after all, and the penguin shape might serve a public cleanliness purpose rather than being whimsical just for whimsy’s sake.

Sometimes I wonder if the animal trashcan can be elevated into part of a larger effort to educate the Vietnamese public on our native species. The penguin is a distant entity, but the endangerment of animals like sao la, Irrawaddy dolphin, and Mekong giant catfish hits much closer to home. Could the bins be shaped like them instead?

Then again, as someone who appreciates the animal kingdom at large and Vietnam’s biodiversity in particular, I have always felt a vague sense of unease over putting trash in the mouth of a penguin, even though that penguin is a plastic object specifically designed to receive trash. It begs the question of who we’re tidying up for? We’ve all seen that tragic video a few years ago showing rescuers removing a straw from a sea turtle’s nostril. Am I trying to save a turtle by putting my bubble tea straws inside a penguin? Perhaps wild animals, be it in trashcan form or real, might not be the best receptacle for our disgusting trash.

Inside Saigon's Grassroots Carton and Aluminum Recycling Plants

2025-10-28T10:00:00+07:00

With plastics claiming many of the headlines worldwide and constituting a major issue in Vietnam, scant attention is being paid to other recyclable materials, namely cardboard and aluminum.

On any given day, in every neighborhood, local collectors can be seen pedaling bicycles or driving motorized carts, piling on mounds of flattened cardboard boxes and bags of aluminum cans. These industrious individuals, along with trash collectors, are at the forefront of the recycling industry in Saigon.

Living in proximity to recycling centers in District 7, I have trod the dusty, two-kilometer-long path along Dao Tri Street numerous times, bearing witness to the daily parade of local collectors gathering their materials. This labor-intensive work is mostly carried out by women who have migrated from rural areas. Talking with a few of them, I found that their lives are generally not easy, having left family and farm for higher wages in Saigon. They live together to defray costs and send funds back to their families each month.

I asked one of the women, Uyen, about a typical day in her life. She generally starts her daily rounds at 7am, when stores open. Stopping primarily at mini-marts that get daily deliveries of goods in cardboard cases, she completes the first sweep by 11am. From there, she delivers her haul to a collection shop or “recycling middleman.” She is paid VND2,000 per kilogram of flattened cardboard. Most of these women have established good relationships with stores and businesses in the area and receive their flattened boxes and cans, as opposed to them being left in the street for collection.

Uyen dropping off her morning haul of cardboard and cans at the collection center.

After a brief lunch break, she begins a second collection cycle, at times supplementing her haul with plastic bottles (for which she is paid VND7,000 per kilo) or flattened aluminum beer cans (at VND19,000 per kilo). Her day ends around 6pm, unless another collection sweep is warranted. Belying the fact that this is a day job, I have seen these collectors working late into the night, separating the various materials for delivery the next morning.

Late-morning delivery activity at the collection center.

Members of my friend Hung’s family have been acting as recycling middlemen or collectors/processors for over 20 years, and have developed a rapport with a number of these grassroots laborers. Their family business collects and separates plastic bottles, scrap plastic and metal, aluminum cans and cardboard.

Hung (center) and his family at their recycling collection center.

Su, Con and Muoi separate assorted plastic into the proper containers.

They alerted me to a cardboard drop-off run, so that I could drive with them for a short distance to the recycling facility and witness the process. Entering a cavernous building, roughly the size of a basketball arena, the truck is first weighed with its complete cargo; then unloaded onto the floor. The truck is then re-weighed after disgorging its load, and the vendor is then compensated on the delivered weight of the cardboard.

Truck after truck arrived, and suddenly the building was transformed into a beehive of activity. Two bulldozers wrangled the growing mounds of cardboard toward the conveyor belt. The bales, which average 1,100 kilograms each, emerged inexorably from the compactor to await their stacking onto a flatbed truck for delivery to a larger processing center.

An employee at the compacting facility sorting packing material from the cardboard boxes.

One of the two bulldozers pushing boxes onto the compacter unit. Finished bales are in the background.

Operating the cardboard compactor forming the bales.

The cavernous cardboard facility with compacted bales in the foreground.

Speaking with the plant manager, Nam, I was told they handle three types of cardboard: foldable boxes, like a cereal box; rigid boxes, like computer or phone boxes; and corrugated shipping boxes, for moving and storing goods.

According to Cardboard Balers, a company based in the United Kingdom, recycling cardboard requires just 75% of the energy needed to make new cardboard, so it makes sense that recycling cardboard is a more sustainable option than cutting down trees to make virgin paper products. Cardboard is made from wood fiber, so recycling saves both landfill space and trees. Most cardboard products can be recycled, including boxes, paper towel and the inner rolls of toilet paper, which also reduces the amount of paper which countries have to import. Recycling one ton of used cardboard saves approximately 46 gallons (174 liters) of crude oil, while the majority of the world's shipped products use cardboard packaging, so it's advantageous to recycle from a cost-benefit perspective.

After returning from the cardboard run, I sat with Hung to get his perspective on recycling. “My uncle started this business about 30 years ago, and my dad studied from him and opened his own business, with another uncle handling machine parts for recycling,” he shared.

Hung discussing the future of recycling in Saigon.

The business has changed over the years as it grew.

"Twenty years ago they just bought plastic, aluminum and metal. Now we take in a variety of products, including cardboard,” Hung said. “Loyalty is a big part of the equation when it comes to attracting collectors. We pay a fair price and the locals know they can trust us. Everyone’s involved. My dad runs the business now and drives the truck to the various processing centers. My mom supervises the scale and payments, and [the team and I] do the heavy lifting.”

The rotund, heavy-duty sacks which hold aluminum cans top off at around 60 kilograms each, and the ones for plastic bottles can top 90 kilograms.

Hung lifting a delivery of cardboard onto the scale as his mom, Muoi, watches and records the weight.

Hai, Hung's dad, sews shut one of the massive bags containing plastic bottles.

Muoi recording deliveries at the shop.

Su lifting a huge bag of aluminum cans.

Hung went on to explain that he expects to graduate from university later this year with a degree in environmental engineering. When I asked if he would then join a larger recycling company, he said that he would apply his knowledge to help grow his family business, but he also wants to pursue a PhD in the field.

A similar scenario of truck weighing before and after unloading was evident when I accompanied the team on a run to out to Binh Chanh District to the aluminum can recycling center there.

Crushed aluminum cans before being baled.

Unloading 10 bags of aluminum cans and miscellaneous metal items, weighing up to 750 kilograms in total.

As to the future of recycling in Saigon, Hung reflected that other countries or states have comprehensive policies in place, whereas Vietnam still has no complete plan which includes tax exemptions or incentives. So if waste facilities become overloaded, he hopes this will drive new policies to address the issue. Looking ahead, he would like to concentrate more on plastics, and even buy a machine that cuts and washes small volumes of plastic for more efficient recycling.

While plastic and other man-made products continue to be major issues as urbanization spreads across the country, the intelligent use of recycled materials, such as cardboard and aluminum cans, can help alleviate some of the strain on the city’s resources, and the people doing this back-breaking work should not be overlooked.

This article was originally published in 2020.

More than a Powerful Symbol: The Importance of Lotus for Mekong Delta Women and Ecosystems

2025-10-17T08:38:00+07:00

Women in the Mekong Delta face numerous challenges, including limited access to educational opportunities and agricultural occupations threatened by the effects of climate change. A source of hope in this economically impoverished area, however, blooms in bright pink.

The lotus, widely considered a symbol of Vietnam, has long been used as a metaphor to describe Vietnamese people: from the mud grows a strong and resilient flower that provides nourishment. The plant is literally providing for women in the region thanks to a multifaceted program supported by WWF-Viet Nam as part of the larger Climate Resilient by Nature - Mekong project (CRxN Mekong).

Native to the Mekong Delta, lotus plants grow in rivers and lakes across a landscape significantly altered due to human development and agriculture. For decades, farmers looking to maximize food production have erected dikes during the flood season to grow a third crop of conventional rice per year. Doing so disrupts water cycles, which leads to soil degradation and loss of nutrients, while the chemicals needed for the plants further pollute the ecosystem. Lotus represents an alternative.

WWF-Viet Nam's lotus planting models support farmers growing lotus during the flood season. After four to four and a half months, the stems and seeds of the harvested plants can be processed and sold for consumption, bringing in approximately US$1,867 per hectare, a significant boon to local livelihoods. The environmental impacts of the program are similarly profound, with the model revealing lower greenhouse gas emissions as well as better water retention and quality, improved soil health and sedimentation, and a healthier biodiversity, all compared to a third season of conventional rice.

The vibrant natural ecosystems and human communities in the Mekong Delta depend on one another.

To encourage local farmers to adopt the lotus planting model, WWF-Viet Nam has provided technical and financial support to nine households in Tân Hưng, Vĩnh Châu, Vĩnh Thạnh communes, Tây Ninh province (formerly Vĩnh Đại, Vĩnh Lợi, Vĩnh Châu A, and Thạnh Hưng communes, Long An province). With the guidance of experts from An Giang Climate Change, the farmers are taught cultivation techniques and given organic fertilizers to prevent and reduce disease on lotus plants. Saigoneer visited several of the sites to understand what the project looks like in action and the impact it has on women in the area.

An Inspiring Visit to the Lotus Fields

Amidst the crisp lines of rice fields that make a checkerboard of the landscape, lotus fields are messy scribbles of green and pink. To reach one, we had to take a small boat. Standing on a narrow embankment, we could just make out a group of women working up to their waists in water, their nón lá occasionally coming into view between flower blossoms, hands rising to pluck seed pods and drop them in baskets attached to their backs. After 15 minutes, the group had worked its way towards us, and we were able to speak with Lê Thị Thòng, a local farmer who was spending her morning harvesting the field.

Thòng explained that she had been planting lotus before this project began, but “before, when I planted lotus, it sometimes succeeded, but without this process, the lotus often got diseases. The engineers supported clean lotus planting, and the technique is very good.”

Lê Thị Thòng collects lotus pods.

Being able to plant lotus that reliably yields income has wide-reaching implications for the women in the region. Thòng uses the income for household needs, including more nutritious meals and her children’s education, which is particularly relevant because having work in the fields near her home means she can be available to pick them up from school, as opposed to industrial site jobs that are often unavailable to women because they require traveling great distances.

Nguyễn Thị Diễm Trinh in front of her home lotus field.

Nguyễn Thị Diễm Trinh, another lotus farmer, echoed these sentiments while explaining that the lotus program also expands her role in the community. After speaking with her about the specific methods of planting and harvesting lotus, she invited Saigoneer for lunch. As she was bringing out plates of thịt kho, khổ qua, and stir-fried lotus stems, people kept arriving at the front yard table. A WWF-Viet Nam representative, a neighbor, and a local official all happened to be stopping by for various routine purposes and were quickly told to grab a plate and sit down. The impromptu gathering resembled the more formal meetings held at her house, where “we gather 20–30 people — then we eat and talk together, it’s fun and friendly,” she explained. Indeed, the lotus planting gives women like Trinh and Thòng a role in local conversations and decision-making that elevates their standing in their homes and community.

Sources of Optimism Inside a Lotus Factory

Every few minutes, a truck would arrive and a group of workers would hustle over to unload bundles of lotus stalks for parceling out across the factory floor, where women seated on plastic stools were washing, cutting, and sorting the stems. Large basins soaked and fermented the pieces on the other side of the cavernous space while a small team worked on preparing and packaging them in bags with bright labels, ready to be sent to grocery stores throughout the country and abroad. Tâm Lotus, a small business in Tây Ninh Commune, was founded in response to the fact that the area produces a significant amount of lotus stems, but had limited to no market for them. The company’s existence not only offers easy and reliable purchasing of the plants harvested in the fields, but also gives women vital occupational opportunities.

By acting as a gathering point for distribution via larger companies, Tâm Lotus allows the largely female workforce to work close to home and thus support their families. During our visit, we even met a woman who occasionally stops by with her adopted grandchild. “Everyone here really loves the child. They often buy little things for him. They know the child is an orphan—the parents separated—so Mr. Tâm, his wife, and their family often give things to the child.”

Like the women who plant and harvest the lotus, the women in the factory told us that the work offers them more than a stable income; it brings peace to their homelives and amplifies their voices. Hương, the plant manager, said, “Before, as a woman staying home to care for the kids, without earning money, my voice didn’t carry as much weight. Now that I work and earn money, I can be more equal in discussions.” She continued, “I feel more comfortable. Earning money and having a stable income makes me feel freer to do what I want.”

The improved livelihood conditions for women, thanks to the lotus activities, coincide with positive environmental impacts for the local environment and broader upstream wetland ecosystems of the Mekong Delta. Compared to conventional rice farming, the lotus model results in a 73.2% reduction in greenhouse gas emissions. Moreover, it leads to better water quality and quantity, with over 662,000 cubic meters of water stored per hectare of crop. Meanwhile, soil fertility is improved, which reduces the need for fertilizers in the subsequent season while strengthening the biodiversity in an environment that is home to more than 86 plant species, 51 fish species, and 73 waterbird species.

Nguyễn Thị Diễm Trinh at home with her young son.

One sees the image of a lotus flower nearly every day in Vietnam. From large public fountains and decor to branding elements to fashions, the beautiful symbol of the nation is everywhere. After learning more about its role in the WWF-Viet Nam’s CRxN Mekong project, one can look upon it with an even greater appreciation, knowing it's not merely an aspirational symbol, but a true source of positive change for the people and land.

As Climate Change Threatens, Flood Waters Usher In Sustainable Opportunities for Communities in the Mekong Delta

2025-10-09T06:22:00+07:00

The Mekong Delta is developing faster than Google Maps can keep up with. A stretch of road that was too narrow to accommodate cars and required a transition to motorbikes just six months ago was under construction during our August visit. Gargantuan machines for laying pulverized gravel inched aside to let our 7-seater pass so we could reach the home of Nguyễn Thị Thu Thủy to check in on her small fish drying home business.

A peek into the behind-the-scenes fish drying operation at Nguyễn Thị Thu Thủy's home.

Thủy explained that the expanded road will allow her to more easily sell larger quantities of the packaged, dried fish to a more diverse set of buyers. This theme of increased output and growth filled our conversation: her family produces more of the delicious dried cá chốt than her parents ever did; every season she asks her husband and neighbors to buy more fish from the flooded fields for her to process and dry; she dreams of a de-scaling machine so she can take in more cá lóc; and the drying cabinet WWF-Viet Nam provided her via a revolving fund for women allows her to work on cloudy or rainy days, resulting in more money for household needs.

Increased output across agricultural and aquacultural activities is just one element of broader efforts to improve local livelihoods while safeguarding and restoring natural areas in the Mekong Delta. In particular, programs like the Climate Resilient by Nature - Mekong project (CRxN Mekong) aim to mitigate negative environmental impacts while remaining easy to integrate into traditional lifestyles across the region. In Tân Hưng, Vĩnh Châu, and Vĩnh Thạnh communes of the new Tây Ninh province (formerly Vĩnh Châu A, Vĩnh Đại, Vĩnh Lợi, and Thạnh Hưng communes), six livelihood models, along with access to microfinancing and education initiatives, are building on existing behaviors in coordination with local governments and communities to provide scalable examples for how livelihoods and nature can benefit from nature-based solutions.

The Mekong Delta's many waterways and nutrient-rich soil support thriving market scenes.

Hope Floats in the Flooded Fields

“In the past, our grandparents grew [floating rice], so it has a nostalgic value. Growing it again now feels like reviving something from the past — a way to reconnect with old memories,” Nguyễn Ngọc Điền, the chairman of the floating rice cooperative’s board, explained to Saigoneer. More than a heartwarming means of connecting to homeland and heritage, the ancient variety of rice is opening new economic opportunities while helping to protect and replenish the water and soil.

Nguyễn Ngọc Điền sits beside a floating rice field.

Unlike the modern method of erecting dikes to plant conventional rice during the flood season, growing floating rice requires no manipulation of the flood waters. Because the rice doesn’t disrupt the natural flow of water, nor does it require chemicals and fertilizers, it allows the soil to naturally rejuvenate. These powerful impacts explain why WWF-Viet Nam invites experts from Cần Thơ University for support. Moreover, WWF-Viet Nam supplies seeds and agricultural drones.

Nguyễn Thị Bé plants both conventional and floating rice.

Of course, money talks, and bottom-line economics and familiar habits drive decisions in one of Vietnam’s most impoverished regions. One local farmer and cooperative member, Nguyễn Thị Bé, told Saigoneer that “it has to have benefits. In general, this floating seasonal rice — well, here people are used to eating soft, sticky rice, so eating this one, they don’t really like it. But if you cook it the right way, it’s actually very good.”

In addition to helping introduce ways to cook the floating rice, such as in porridge, to appeal to local tastes, WWF-Viet Nam has been helping to connect the community cooperative with buyers who can sell the rice to overseas consumers who are more receptive to its positive health benefits and accepting of its texture. Processing the floating rice into noodles, milk-based goods, and rice paper before export has proven to be a successful approach. The Khải Nam corporation, for example, is working towards Halal certification for the floating rice products to be exported to Malaysia and other Asian markets, as well as European markets such as England and Germany, which has resulted in a request to increase floating rice plantation areas to 200 ha, up from only 10 ha last year. “This makes cooperative members more confident, knowing their product is reaching international markets,” noted Điền.

Harvesting conventional rice frequently involves environmentally-damaging field burning.

Floating Rice Makes Way for Fish and Mushrooms

The success of the floating rice coincides with other project models, including fish cultivation. Native fish, including cá rô and cá lóc, can thrive in the flooded fields amongst the floating rice. Absent pesticides and chemicals, the fish grow naturally and can be harvested for drying and processing, as Thủy has been doing. Her work is supported by a revolving fund that has provided money from a total initial loan amount of 840 million VND (US$32,000) to 82 women for the acquisition of technologies and materials.

Thanks to new technologies, fish can be dried on rainy days.

Compared to conventional rice, floating rice yields a larger amount of post-harvest organic material. This plant matter, rather than being burned, which releases significant amounts of carbon into the air, can be used for growing mushrooms. This will allow the CRxN program to supply households with clean floating rice straw beginning at the start of 2026, supplementing the technical know-how for cultivating mushrooms that is already being provided. After only 45 days, the mushrooms can be harvested and sold for approximately US$384.

Mushroom growing is particularly appealing because it can be undertaken while remaining close to one’s home, which allows women to participate while caring for children and other household tasks. Word of the project has spread in the local communities, with 18 new farmers registering to receive support for the project. Current mushroom farmer, Trần Thanh Tâm, summarized his experiences to Saigoneer: “What I like most is that I can make use of straw to create a clean product, giving people safe mushrooms to eat. They’re great for vegetarians, and also good for parties — chicken steamed with straw mushrooms is very delicious.”

Trần Thanh Tâm monitors the growth of his mushrooms.

Beside the Floating Rice, Lotus, Hyacinth, and Education Bloom

While floating rice is a pivotal element of the CRxN Mekong project, not all models directly involve it. For example, farmers who do not plant conventional or floating rice during the flood season can use their land to grow lotus. Supported via seeds, organic fertilizer, and the development of commercial networks, farmers can supplement their incomes by growing lotus plants. The seeds and stems are both processed as commercial food. Compared to growing three conventional rice crops a year, switching one to flood-based lotus cultivation produces a significantly smaller amount of carbon. Evidence suggests that the model could be a potential opportunity for future integration in the carbon market.

Even before producing carbon credits, the lotus industry is providing significant benefits to local communities, particularly amongst women. Like growing mushrooms, it allows women to stay closer to home, where they can care for family members. Trần Thị Kim Mai, an employee at a lotus processing facility, explained: “Before, I worked in a more hectic job far from home. Now that there’s a workshop here, I can work very close to my house.”

Moreover, steady work has profound psychological effects. Mai furthered: “The sisterhood relationship here is cheerful, people are sociable … Working here feels like part of my life, something I need every day.”

A similar sense of purpose and value is experienced by the women involved in the lục bình weaving group. A CRxN education project invites consultants to communities to teach women how to transform the weed plant into valuable home goods. This transforms the plant from an onerous clogger of waterways into a flexible source of income that empowers women and strengthens families.

While CRxN Mekong’s education efforts focus largely on increasing flood-based agriculture and aquaculture practices, there is significant attention paid to social and cultural topics, including gender equality courses. These teachings, combined with broad improvements in household incomes, have resulted in “more peace at home,” as one resident shared with us.

On our many trips to CRxN Mekong projects over the years, Saigoneer has been invited into countless homes to share meals, hear stories, and learn about the hope people have for the future of the region. In the midst of these very personal moments, it's difficult to keep sight of the program’s larger impact. In coordination with An Giang Climate Change experts, invaluable data and information are being gathered that can be used to devise and test new ideas for Nature-Based Solutions for implementation throughout the Mekong region.

The natural environment, in particular, lingers in our memory after each visit. Graceful egrets fold wings like book pages in Láng Sen’s melaleuca trees, and turtles disappear in tannin-rich waters that snake and tangle beneath lotus leaves. Soft white cajeput flowers burst open against blue skies, and red-tailed laughingthrush’s calls echo. While in this beautiful, wild place, humans may not be in sight, but their impact is everywhere. From agricultural runoff to disrupted flood cycles to the encroachment of farming practices, the actions of human communities threaten the priceless ecosystem. Only by considering both of them via sustainable livelihood initiatives like the CRxN Mekong can we ensure they both prosper for decades to come.

As Wind Power Struggles to Thrive in Southeast Asia, Vietnam Leads With Early Momentum

2025-09-10T14:00:00+07:00

Countries in mainland Southeast Asia have stark differences in renewable energy strategies, balancing them with ample but controversial hydropower and entrenched interests. While solar power has become accessible and cost effective, many of these nations have struggled to make wind power an essential part of renewable energy strategies, despite having locations with high potential. Meanwhile, others have become regional wind power leaders, such as Vietnam. In this explainer, we explore how various mainland Southeast Asian countries are engaging with wind power development.

Top image: Wind turbines in Phan Rang, a coastal city in southern Vietnam. Photo by Thoại Phạm via Alamy.

Thailand

While Thailand has aggressively pursued solar and hydro, it made a slow start on wind power, despite having high-wind areas in the north and northeast. The first project, in Phuket, began in 1983, but projects exceeding one megawatt (MW) did not begin until 2008. The country only reached around 400MW by 2019. As of 2023, wind makes up only around 3% (around 1.5 gigawatts) of the kingdom’s installed capacity.

There is potential for 13-17 gigawatts (GW) of onshore wind energy across the country. And while most of Thailand’s wind power comes from ground-mounted projects, there is potential for another 18–36GW per year offshore in the Andaman Sea.

Solar has made huge strides in Thailand in recent years, with a current estimated capacity of 3GW and plans to reach 39GW by 2040. Despite this, Thailand is relying on an energy future ruled by liquefied natural gas (LNG), including the building of new infrastructure in Rayong and the Gulf of Thailand.

The current draft of Thailand’s 2025–2037 Power Development Plan (PDP) aims to achieve carbon neutrality by 2050 and net-zero emissions by 2065. The plan includes installing an additional 7GW of wind power capacity.

While the draft (due to be passed by the end of 2025) is aggressively pursuing renewable energy in solar, wind and biomass, its critics claim the government’s energy demand projections are too high: it predicts that the current supply must more than double by 2037. Other criticisms are that the current plan is over-reliant on more traditional energy projects, such as LNG, and that it is holding back the development of renewables.

Traditionally, Thailand’s supply chain for building wind power plants has been provided by foreign interests. As the kingdom ramps up its renewables efforts for net-zero targets, however, a concerted push has been made to produce and develop wind power components domestically.

Thailand’s leading wind energy developer, Wind Energy Holding, currently operates eight wind power plants. In June, the company announced it was preparing 2GW of projects in line with the current PDP. Yeong Guan Energy Technology, a Chinese company, plans to begin wind power component production trials in Thailand in 2025.

Thai companies are also investing in wind power abroad. Late last year, BCPG Public Company Limited, a renewable-energy subsidiary of the partially state-owned conglomerate Bangchak Corporation, announced it was acquiring a firm that operates two wind power plants in Vietnam.

Thailand also funds controversial hydropower dams on the Mekong mainstream and its tributaries, in neighboring Laos and Cambodia. These projects have been linked to declining fisheries and unseasonable flooding and droughts, affecting biodiversity and riverine livelihoods. As such, more emphasis is being placed by environmental groups on the use of non-hydro renewables, such as wind and solar.

At present, the push for renewable energy is reviving Thailand’s wind power prospects, as is the current Feed-in-Tariff system, in which producers are offered fixed prices to provide power to the grid. But the PDP 2025-2037 will be essential in deciding how diversified the kingdom’s renewable future will be.

Laos

The energy plan of Laos has centered around being the “Battery of Asia,” using the nation’s natural resources to create hydropower that it sells to its Southeast Asian neighbors and China.

However, the use of the Mekong’s resources has been a heavy source of contention in the Greater Mekong region, so Laos has taken steps to include more solar and wind projects.

The most widely publicized of its upcoming wind projects is the Power China-produced Thai collaboration that was completed this year, the Monsoon Wind Power project (MWP). It is the first large-scale ground-mounted wind farm in landlocked Laos and has been touted as the largest in Southeast Asia. Continuing the Battery of Asia model with wind power, the 250MW onshore Trường Sơn wind project is expected to supply energy to neighboring Vietnam after its planned completion date later in 2025.

The April 2023 groundbreaking ceremony for the Monsoon Wind Power project in Vientiane, Laos. Photo by Kaikeo Saiyasane via Xinhua/Alamy.

Both Thailand and China have played crucial roles in the energy infrastructure of Laos, in terms of development and power purchase agreements. The MWP project was bankrolled by the Thai company Impact Electrons Siam, and is being rolled out as a prototype that could potentially be used in Laos as a viable form of export energy.

Around 80% of the electricity produced by Laos is exported to other countries. The MWP project features a 500 kilovolt transmission line to neighboring Vietnam, 22 kilometers of which will be in Laos and 43 kilometers in Vietnam, which has signed a 25-year power purchase agreement for the project.

Straddling the provinces of Sekong and Attapeu, the MWP project contains 133 wind turbines. According to a quarterly environmental and social monitoring report, it has affected 934 households across 26 villages, with agricultural land most affected. The report identified 210 hectares of agricultural land as temporarily or permanently changed, along with impacts on 112 hectares of forest. Projections from the Asia Infrastructure Investment Bank also noted local anecdotal evidence of biodiversity loss in the project development area.

Though the project was only completed in April, Laos is already moving toward a wind farm that is twice as big: the AMI Savannakhet, a 1,200MW wind farm in Savannakhet province, occupying nearly 2,700 hectares.

In 2023, it was estimated that non-hydro renewables made up less than 0.5% of energy generation in Laos. But analysis of its 2020-2030 National Power Development Plan indicates that — while still relying heavily on hydropower — non-hydro renewables will eventually make up 5%.

Cambodia

Cambodia has suffered from large-scale power shortages and blackouts. These stem from over-consumption issues and, less recently, drought-based hydropower lapses. According to a 2023 World Bank survey, as many as 43% of firms experienced electricity outages in Cambodia, as the country contends with meeting its short-term power needs.

The kingdom does not yet have any major wind farms, but in May 2025, authorities approved six wind power projects in Mondulkiri Province that are expected to generate 900MW. Each developer has a 150MW allocation but there are few public details about construction timelines.

HK Oasis Power’s 150MW wind power station is currently the first of the six planned and is expected to begin operating in 2026. These wind projects should become a source of power during the country’s dry season, which usually runs from November to April.

Another upcoming Mondulkiri wind farm is the 100MW Singaporean Blue Circle project. It will be built in conjunction with Cambodia’s Royal Group, which is also responsible for the controversial, 400MW Lower Sesan 2 hydropower plant.

These projects are a boon for Cambodia’s non-hydro renewable goals but the wind farms raise questions about impacts for wildlife habitats and local ways of life. Mondulkiri’s Indigenous Bunong residents have claimed some of the construction works could impact their lives and livelihoods. For example, one of the companies with project approval, SchneiTec Co, has been constructing a 299-kilometer power transmission line through Cambodia’s Prey Lang wildlife sanctuary.

Previous wind power projects in Cambodia hit permanent snags, such as a Blue Circle project in Kampot, which was set to begin construction on an 80MW wind farm in 2021. It was cancelled after failing to agree a per-kilowatt-hour tariff rate with the state-run energy supplier, Electricite du Cambodge.

Authorities have stated that wind power will be integrated into the national grid by 2026. But despite these coming projects, Cambodia’s Power Development Plan up to 2040 will lead to only a marginal increase in wind power when compared to other sources, like solar. This is because Cambodia’s wind power potential is comparatively low for mainland Southeast Asia.

Despite issuing a 10-year moratorium on dam building on the Mekong mainstream in 2020, a majority of the renewable energy in Cambodia still comes from hydropower. The rest — just 10.5% — came from solar sources as of 2022, according to the International Energy Agency.

Vietnam

Wind power is the largest source of non-hydro renewable energy in Vietnam, 80% of which was provided by 84 wind farms as of 2023. The country’s status as a regional leader in wind power has been largely attributed to a beneficial feed-in tariff system: the government pays guaranteed, above-average prices for renewable energy. The tariff, along with Vietnam’s government policy and strong potential for both on- and offshore wind energy generation, have attracted investors.

With an installed capacity of nearly 5GW as of 2024, Vietnam has made key changes to its Power Development Plan (PDP8), with a revised draft published in April outlining the country’s energy outlook to 2035. The original PDP8 of May 2023 had an ambitious outlook for onshore wind, including a goal of installing more than 21GW of onshore wind capacity by 2030. This has since been raised to 38GW. This is despite the revised PDP8 also outlining a large increase in expected solar energy, increasing the previous target by nearly six times to over 73GW.

But while Vietnam was an early and enthusiastic adopter of onshore wind power in mainland Southeast Asia, the country has been slow to adopt offshore wind. The original PDP8 planned for 6GW of offshore wind by 2030; this has been revised to 6-17GW by 2035.

Vietnam has signed several agreements for offshore wind projects, including a joint development between the state-owned PetroVietnam and Copenhagen Infrastructure Partners, a Danish renewable energy developer. The US$10.5 billion investment will supply 3.5GW of wind power. Another is the 1.4GW Phú Cường Sóc Trăng offshore wind farm, developed by the Irish company Mainstream Renewable Power.

In July, authorities said construction on the first project is “likely” to begin by the end of this year.

The Bạc Liêu offshore wind farm on the south coast of Vietnam. Photo by Quang Nguyen Vinh via Alamy.

Recent studies show Vietnam has the potential to generate just over one terawatt of wind energy in its exclusive economic zone, nearly doubling previous World Bank estimates.

Nonetheless, Vietnam has struggled to generate investments for its renewable projects due to fears that its favorable energy tariffs will end. These policies have created a boom in Vietnam’s renewables sector but they have also created losses for the state-owned Vietnam Electricity (EVN), leading authorities to attempt to reduce them.

The revised PDP8 includes far-off goals for offshore wind projects. This is because, at current estimates, development elements such as permit issuance and construction planning is taking up to a decade.

As the country rapidly multiplies its wind power projects, concerns have been raised regarding the local socioeconomic costs of this. Vietnam’s many nearshore wind farms have faced criticism from fishers, whose incomes have been impacted by government-imposed fishing bans for wind farm perimeter zones.

Both onshore and offshore wind farms also create risks to biodiversity. They could present problems for migratory birds, including endangered species from Siberia that migrate to Vietnam for winter, such as the Nordmann’s greenshank and spoon-billed sandpiper.

Myanmar

Myanmar, still embroiled in civil conflict at the time of writing, has had a number of wind power projects fall through. These include the high-profile, Chinese-built Chaung Tha project, which fell apart long before Myanmar’s military junta took control via the 2021 coup.

The current administration is working with Russia to cultivate wind power. The Russian state-owned firm Rosatom, which also has nuclear energy ambitions in Myanmar, began working with a Myanmar developer on plans to build a 200MW wind farm near Mount Popa in 2023.

Despite the civil war in Myanmar and Russia’s invasion of Ukraine, the collaboration has seen movement in the past two years. Myanmar claims it is fast-tracking Mount Popa. The energy ministry has also signed a memorandum of understanding for eight wind-power projects across the country. Rosatom is behind three of them.

In 2023, Myanmar agreed to work with China on three wind power projects in Ann, Gwa and Thandwe, all in Rakhine state, for projects ranging from 100-150MW. However, reports in 2024 said the Ann and Thandwe projects had been taken over by the Rakhine people’s Arakan army.

Beyond its domestic wind power ambitions, Myanmar plays a key role in the development of regional wind power. It is a site for the illicit mining of heavy rare earth elements (HREEs). These are used to produce powerful permanent magnets in wind turbines that increase power generation and improve heat resistance, lowering the maintenance demands of larger — especially offshore — turbines.

A 2024 Global Witness report on HREEs states that firms involved in the creation of these magnets are reliant on Myanmar’s supply. Chinese interests are responsible for 85% of all rare earth processing, and China is the world’s number one consumer of HREEs.

The unregulated and illicit mining of HREEs in Myanmar has led to high environmental and human costs. This is expected to continue. In addition to deadly mining incidents, chemicals used in the mining process such as oxalic acid have reportedly caused skin and respiratory damage, as well as deaths related to kidney failure.

The Global Witness report also highlights the use of in-situ leaching, a process by which ammonium sulfate is injected into pipes in the ground to circulate and extract rare earths. It says the toxins from these processes are flowing into streams where local people fish and collect drinking water. Nearby residents claim this chemical exposure is leading to deaths, the devastation of fish and other animal populations, and the report also notes that surrounding lands are becoming non-arable.

China backs the military junta. Its position as both participant and mediator in Myanmar’s conflict drastically affects global access to rare earth material. Almost half of the world’s accessible rare earth materials are mined in Kachin, Myanmar’s northernmost state. The Kachin Independence Army (KIA) took control of much of these resources in October 2024. The following May, China demanded the KIA stabilize the rare earth supply chain and threatened to stop buying HREEs from Myanmar.

This article was originally produced by Dialogue Earth and has been republished with permission. Read the original version here.

I Saw the World's Most Handsome Bird Right in Vietnam's Hidden Backyard

2025-08-21T12:00:00+07:00

Everywhere I go in Vietnam, I keep my eyes peeled for the incredible birds that call this country home. Sometimes I don’t even realize that I’m doing it. I scan the horizon above low hills for migratory hawks. I stare into breaks in the foliage for passing buttonquail. I peer into rice paddies, fingers crossed for a cryptic snipe. And, of course, there’s Facebook. I refresh Facebook over and over again, waiting for the arrival of the mandarin duck. Its scientific name is Aix galericulata, which one assumes means “prettiest goddamn duck in the world.”

In actuality, “aix” is an Ancient Greek word first used by Aristotle to refer to an unknown diving bird while “galericulata” is the Latin for a wig, derived from galerum, a cap or bonnet. This is the kind of bird so utterly magnificent that you basically assume you’ll never see it. Mandarin ducks breed in the dense and isolated forests on the edge of rivers and lakes in far eastern Russia, China, and Hokkaido, Japan; the total number tallies up to just a few thousand pairs. During the winters they migrate southwards, fleeing the subarctic temperatures of their breeding grounds for the warmer swamps and flooded fields in central China. And every winter there is a single family group that decides to fly a little farther than the rest: about a thousand kilometers farther, to a hidden lake in northern Vietnam.

A family of Vietnam's next top avians.

Ba Bể is the largest natural lake in the country, and the heart of Ba Bể National Park. While only four hours from Hanoi by car, this treasure of the northern mountains is often skipped by Sa Pa trekkers and Hà Giang road trippers. But it is not ignored, thank goodness, by the Vietnamese birdwatching community. Steep limestone cliffs and primary forest all around the lakeshore make Ba Bể a hidden haven for birds, including the too-beautiful-to-be-allowed mandarin duck. My search for the duck during the migratory season begins online, where Vietnamese birdwatchers share their photos, tips and secrets.

Birdwatchers like Nguyễn Mạnh Hiệp, a senior official at the Vietnam Administration of Forestry, who keeps tabs on the ducks by staying in contact with national park rangers. There's also Nguyễn Thanh Sơn, an office worker and wildlife lover in Hanoi who, like me, relies on a network of bird and photography enthusiasts to let him know when incredible species like the mandarin duck are spotted. This winter, when the prodigal ducks returned, photos of them immediately began to pop up among this insular community of dedicated birders. Sơn decided one afternoon that he had to see them, and the next morning he was up at 3am to make his way north. I was on a business trip in Thailand when they appeared, and the moment I returned to Hanoi I was on my way, too, not wasting the hour it would have taken to go home and drop off my luggage.

Mandarin duck is the kind of bird so utterly magnificent that you basically assume you’ll never see it.

The passage into Ba Bể felt very much like entering another world — so much so that it’s worth saying this, despite the cliché. I joined my friend Bùi Đức Tiến, Vice President of the Vietnam Bird Conservation Society, and together we caught an early morning boat from town that coursed down a narrow river feeding the lake. We passed through an enormous limestone cave, coming out on the other end to the secluded sanctuary of Ba Bể. I was, of course, deeply anxious. We did not yet see the duck. It was far from certain that we would see the duck. I'm not sure I can describe how much I wanted to see the duck.

And then, there it was. It was Tiến, of course, who spotted it first: a single male, perched on a tree that overhangs the water. We cut the engine and coasted towards it. I lay on my stomach on the bow, steadying my camera and holding my breath. The duck, who has, in the past weeks, flown on little wings across a significant portion of the Asian continent, was totally relaxed. He was, without exaggeration, one of the most beautiful birds on a planet so richly populated with beautiful birds. Purple, indigo and chestnut splayed from his body at odd angles, like ornate shavings of tinted glass. What a thing it is to behold.

Majestically leaping off the water.

The Vietnamese name for these ducks, chim uyên ương, can be literally translated as “love bird.” Vietnamese novelist and translator Nguyễn Hiền Trang points out that the name comes from the Chinese language: yuanyang (鸳鸯). In both Vietnam and in China, these ducks have a cultural significance dating back millennia. Mandarin ducks first started to show up in ancient Chinese poetry more than 1,500 years ago, appearing as symbols of both romantic and fraternal love. In Vietnam, terra cotta mandarin ducks decorated palace and pagoda towers during the Lý and Trần dynasties. The ducks even make a few appearances in the classic Vietnamese narrative poem 'Chinh Phụ Ngâm Khúc' once again as symbols of devotion and love.

Why symbols of love, you ask? The answer is in their duality. With ostentatiously colored males and much more modest females, the mandarin duck embodies the balance of yin and yang — gendered forms of the feminine earth below and the masculine firmament above. Perhaps owing to this legend, people across the ducks’ migratory route believe them to mate for life. But while lifelong monogamy isn’t unheard of in the world of birds, I regret to inform you that, in the case of these ducks, it is indeed a love story that’s too good to be true. Male mandarin ducks may be beautiful, but they are also carousing ruffians, hilariously unfaithful lovers, and absentee fathers.

Mandarin duck is one of the most beautiful bird species that can be spotted in Vietnam.

But that name, love birds, still rings true. One of the joys of birdwatching is escaping the self, and spending time appreciating an animal entirely on its own terms, and in its own world. Love birds may better describe the feelings that the mandarin ducks give us than it does their talent for monogamy. Judging by their prominent place in ancient Vietnamese culture, we can guess that there used to be a whole lot more of these ducks flying around than just this one family, at this one hidden lake. But with a growing number of Vietnamese people committed to protecting these creatures, we can hope that they will remain safe for generations to come. That’s what we could all use in times like these, I think. More birds. More love.

This article was originally published in 2023.

The Hunt for Vietnam's Dinosaurs Has Found Nothing Yet, but There Is Hope

2025-07-30T10:00:00+07:00

Why aren’t there any Vietnamese dinosaurs?

Well, Vietnam probably was home to dinosaurs; we just haven’t found their fossilized bones yet.

Scientists have uncovered fossilized remains of these beloved prehistoric animals in Thailand, Malaysia, Laos, Cambodia, and Myanmar, but not Vietnam. In the last few decades, the Southeast Asian discoveries have included a great range of species representing many familiar groups, including Spinosaurus, Titanosaurus, and Iguanodon in their membership. Clustered around the middle period of dinosaurs’ 165-million-year reign, the late Jurassic and early Cretaceous species have greatly expanded our understanding of dinosaur variety and distribution.

Map of current ornithischian dinosaur finds in mainland Southeast Asia. Information adapted from this scientific paper.

So why haven’t any been found in Vietnam yet? It all comes down to luck and money. Many of the region’s discoveries were the result of happenstance and activities unrelated to paleontological searches, including a chance sighting in a Northern Thai ignite mine and a bone exposed at low tide on the coast of a Cambodian island. The uncovering of these fossils frequently results in cross-national partnerships, most notably between Thailand and Japan, wherein foreign scientists provide knowledge and financial resources to further global understanding of dinosaurs.

Editor's note: Dinosaurs images adopted from Vietnam's released stamp collection and not illustrative of actual findings.

Unfortunately, there have been no such fortuitous findings in Vietnam, and without at least a clue for where to look, costly surveys are difficult to justify. The few expeditions to find dinosaurs over the years, led by mostly Hanoi-based geologists, have unfortunately come up empty-handed. The most recent search, a collaboration with Japanese paleontologists, explored Lạng Sơn and Sơn La and found fossiliferous rocks of the correct age, but no dinosaurs. So while geologists can confirm that dinosaur ecosystems existed in Vietnam based on rock formations, we are left waiting for further expeditions, a construction project or a sharp-eyed forest hiker to notice a unique rock that lures scientists. Experts suggest Quảng Bình is the most likely spot one will be identified.

Photo by Alberto Prieto.

Despite not yet having a dinosaur to call its own, Vietnam has shown an appreciation for these “terrible lizards (khủng long).” Several times since 1976, Vietnam has issued stamps featuring dinosaurs, maintains Tangvayosaurus material at the Hanoi Geological Museum, and a large dinosaur statue looms in front of the capital’s National Museum of Nature, revealing an understanding of how dinosaurs capture the public interest. One need only browse a toy store here to understand that Vietnamese children, like children everywhere, agree that dinosaurs are very cool. And this is why it matters that Vietnam finds one. If young people learned that there was a species with a Vietnamese name, found in a familiar province by people who speak their language, an appreciation for paleontology and science in general would surely increase. Future generations, at least a portion of them, might develop greater reverence for a natural world that thrived before people evolved, and hopefully will continue to do so long after us.

How a Self-Taught Documentarian Spreads His Boundless Enthusiasm for Vietnam's Nature

2025-07-16T17:00:00+07:00

Why “Sticky Discovery”? This was the first question I asked during my interview with the man behind the YouTube series of nature documentaries. His name is Dính, given by his paternal grandmother because after Dính’s mother had two miscarriages, she’d hoped Dính (meaning “sticky” in English), would stay put.

Dính filming in An Giang.

Not common or conventionally beautiful, the name wasn't something Dính enjoyed having growing up. But over time, he came to appreciate it more, particularly as he saw the “sticky” qualities of topics that fascinated him: Dipterocarpaceae oleoresin and the collagen in crocodile bones, for example. He decided to name his YouTube page after it during one particularly fortuitous afternoon.

The whale Dính saw in Bình Định.

During a work trip to Bình Định, Dính learned that a whale had been observed in the nearby ocean. Against what seems like all possible chance, he thought he might be able to see it if he went out there. So he and a colleague arranged a boat to take them 30 minutes away from shore to where the whale had been last spotted. During the ride, Dính was thinking about the YouTube channel he was beginning to upload videos to. It needed a name. As land receded from view, the idea came to him out of the blue: Sticky Discovery. “Why not? My name is beautiful,” he thought. Sticky Discovery is thus both an acknowledgment of his coming to accept his own name, as well as an adjective that unites many of the topics he explores in his videos.

Growing up amongst butterflies, dragonflies and flowers

“To protect my beautiful childhood memories,” Dính said when I asked what motivates him to film and edit stories about Vietnamese nature.

Dính as a young child.

Born in Long Xuyên, An Giang, in 1995, Dính grew up beside a rural river surrounded by verdant delta flora. Simple strolls around town would bless him with interesting flowers, fruits, trees, and tiny critters to marvel at. But over the years, the idyllic natural area has been changing. A modern city has emerged, with gardens constrained, constricted, or destroyed to make way for construction and development. While Dính would share additional motivations for the Sticky Discovery videos later in our conversation, one important reason is to capture the natural areas that remain in Vietnam and remind him of the abundance he knew in his own backyard — the abundance that helped ignite a passion for nature in the first place.

A favorite photo from An Giang.

“I would usually go around my home, taking photos of butterflies, dragonflies, and flowers. And at that time, I watched BBC and NatGeo videos, and their behind-the-scenes, and wondered, ‘Wow! How can I get there? How can I do that?’ I asked my mother if I could study how to film nature or something like that. But, you know, at that time, it wasn’t available in Vietnam,” Dính reflected. Indeed, particularly 20 years ago, there was no clear path to take Dính from loving nature documentaries to actually making them.

Thus, with a dose of practicality and his mother’s concerns in mind, he enrolled at the University of Science in Hồ Chí Minh City after an older, former schoolmate returned to help with admissions and career counseling and handed out the school’s brochures. “I liked biology most because it involved most of the things that I love, but biotechnology involves technology, and technology is something maybe we can make money with,” he said. This wise assessment of the university’s degrees and the occupations they lead to, combined with some advice from a teacher, compelled Dính to enroll in biotechnology, though he didn’t quite follow the rules.

Dính in the Botanical Laboratory.

Dính has a hustler’s charm and wit, which allows him to finagle his way into conversations and opportunities that shouldn’t be available to him. For example, while studying the required biotechnology coursework in university, he would sneak into the biology classes, sometimes asking permission from the professors, sometimes not, and join field trips with the biology majors. For his thesis, Dính joined a biotechnology research group led by collaborating lecturers from biology and biotechnology. The project, “Evaluation of the Mosquito-Repellent Activity of Selected Essential Oils Combined with Plant-Based Carrier Oils,” enabled him to gain access to the biology major’s Botanical Laboratory — a place he had felt a deep pull towards and wished to be part of. That was the beginning of many field trips with biology lecturers and students.

Dính on a field trip in LangBiang. Photo by Tihon.

During his time in the botanical lab, Dính became friends with many of the students in that major, including Phan Thị Thanh Nhã, a botanist and botany artist and illustrator Saigoneer recently featured, through whom I met Dính. Since graduating, he has worked as a laboratory technologies salesman, providing equipment and reagents across various industries and now to hospitals and companies that use them for DNA tests, amongst other applications. He makes enough money to live and keep his mother from worrying too much while dedicating his free time to nature documentaries.

The power of happenstance and trusting one’s curiosity

Nhã introduced me to Dính at her booth in the Saigon Zoo during a botanical fair. I didn’t know it then, but they were selling postcards to raise money for a trip together. They planned to go to Huế to look for a fabled species of camellia flower. The dazzlingly bright red petals were described by French colonialists, but the plant’s current existence remains uncertain. “The color is very beautiful, but until now, nobody's seen it. I can only find the leaf and the sample that the French kept. I've not found the flower, but maybe I can see it out there somewhere. Maybe, maybe not, maybe it’s extinct already,” he said before noting that were he lucky enough to discover it, he wouldn’t post any announcement about it online before a clear protection plan was in place to safeguard it from the poachers who would seek to steal it.

Camellia bugiamapensis (left) and Camellia cattienensis (right).

When Dính and I initially spoke at the zoo, he introduced Sticky Discovery via the three-part piece on Cát Tiên’s crocodiles. Indeed, these are the videos that I now recommend to people checking out Sticky Discovery for the first time. They take viewers on a journey through the history of the species’ re-introduction to Bàu Sấu; how farms raising them for meat and leather have been crucial for their preservation; and how this led to a medicine developed from their bones that is helping Vietnamese children born with a rare genetic disorder. The videos even include a brief detour to an ancient archeological sight where the animals appear on the gold coins of a forgotten civilization in the highlands.

The crocodiles of Cát Tiên.

Dính never set out with this meandering story arc in mind when he started filming. Rather, he simply followed his curiosity after learning an anecdote about the crocodiles' reintroduction. He also wanted to push back against some YouTube comments left on an early video wherein people questioned why anyone would release a dangerous animal that could kill people. He wanted to correct this wrong mindset and allow visitors to Cát Tiên who see a crocodile to have a deeper understanding and respect for the true nature and value of the animals.

For the making of the crocodile videos, one question led to another, and a string of people agreed to meet with Dính, despite him not being able to offer any credentials or a real clear reason for the request. “If they are the right people, they will take time to meet with you. If not, they aren’t the right people,” he said. In explaining how he is usually able to convince scientists, researchers, experts and business people to sit for interviews, Dính referenced his belief in duyên, loosely translating to “faith met by opportunity,” which is the same concept that he credits for bringing him to the whale in Bình Định. I suspect that these professionals are like me and they are simply won over by Dính’s earnest enthusiasm for niche topics with no ulterior motives.

In addition to Dính’s knack for convincing people to share their knowledge with him, he has a talent for patience. He said that if a story requires four visits to a site, he’ll go four times; if it needs five, he’ll do five, and the same holds for however many interviews he needs to conduct. He is in no rush. “It’s just my hobby,” he said, “When I feel interested, I will feel happy with my trip, that’s how I enjoy my life. I see the story as my responsibility to tell everyone.”

Progressing slowly by design

“I want to do something like NatGeo or the BBC, but the Vietnamese version to talk about the diversity of Vietnam. If that works, then maybe later I’d do it in another country, but I’d love to do it for my country first,” Dính said of his long-term plans. He is working on a project about the diversity of camellia flowers at the moment, with one released about the topic already. He will also continue to post vlog-like videos and compilations of trips and years in review, which he said he makes for himself as a way to remember what he has seen and done; if others enjoy them, that's great too.

Since releasing the crocodile videos, Dính has heard from more people who are interested in making the same types of videos as he is and are on the same “frequency” when it comes to nature. Some of these people have found ways to fund their projects via grants and foreign institutions. Dính is inspired by these possibilities but isn’t in a hurry to monetize anything quite yet. “I’m still finding my way,” he said. “First, I need to understand myself and learn how to do everything on my own,” he said, noting that before he invites in any of the people who have expressed interest in collaborating with him, he wants to “go a little bit slow and find my way.”

Filming in An Giang.

So while he will sometimes travel with friends, simply enjoying their company on the journeys, for now, he considers the making of the videos to be a one-man operation. This includes the filming and editing process. He has taken some basic filmmaking and storytelling classes to improve the way he approaches the topics, but is happy to slowly learn via trial and error and not complicate the process by taking on additional people. Similarly, when he feels they are ready for more viewers he will expand the promotion of Sticky Discovery beyond his personal page and organic gathering of followers.

“I do not think about the audience before I post a video, I just want to share it, and if people like it, they like it. I’m trying to find a way to make scientific things easier to understand so people will realize that science is not something complicated, it's very simple and a part of everyday life,” he said when reflecting on the impact he hopes the videos have on his viewers.

In addition to making average people more aware and inspired by the nature that surrounds us all, he hopes his videos could influence important decision-makers when confronted with choices that impact nature. By seeing the practical and economic value of crocodiles, for example, they might eventually take actions that are in greater harmony with the natural world. “At the end of the day, I imagine that it's not a complicated scientific matter of ‘you have to do this, you have to do that.’ No, it’s just a little change in their mindset so their behavior is more friendly towards nature; so they can enjoy it and not destroy it.”

In Phú Quý.

While Dính will admit his videos are still a little rough around the edges as he learns his craft, they already hold immense power that should inspire us nature lovers who sometimes feel at a loss for how to share our enthusiasm for plants and animals in a way that makes an impact. Dính provides a great example. In one video, he explores Bến Tre, and the discussion of the myriad benefits of coconuts and the surrounding industry is interrupted by mudskippers in the canal. He deviates to simply express excitement over spotting the wondrous fish that shimmy up onto muddy land. The many problems facing the natural world will not be solved if more people were excited by nature, but it would certainly help. Here, Sticky Discovery is making a difference.

Searching for the World's Largest Woodpecker Species in Yok Đôn National Park

2025-07-04T10:00:00+07:00

You first know she’s approaching by the sound of her wings; her broad shadow flashing across the forest floor. Even from far below, her body looks enormous. At half a meter long, she is roughly five times the size of the woodpeckers seen in the gardens of Europe or North America. She is the largest woodpecker left in the world, and the jewel of Yok Đôn National Park.

A great slaty woodpecker. Photo by Md Shahanshah Bappy

This April, I traveled to Đắk Lắk to search for the great slaty woodpecker (gõ kiến xám), a rarely seen species native to the dryer forests of Southeast Asia. In Vietnam, the best chance of spotting this magnificent bird is Yok Đôn National Park. Snug up against the Cambodian border, Yok Đôn offers over 1,000 square kilometers of broadleaved dipterocarp forest. It is the largest national park in Vietnam and was among the first to be founded. But despite its size, beauty and relative accessibility — the park is flat, walkable, and well-maintained — Yok Đôn sees few visitors. The main draw of the park is a population of domesticated Asiatic elephants, another charismatic gray giant.

Yok Đôn's towering dipterocarp trees. Photo by Thomas Mourez.

But we weren’t here for elephants. We were a small party of dedicated birdwatchers, led by Bùi Đức Tiến, vice-president of the Vietnam Bird Conservation Society and a contributor to the recently released Các Loài Chim Việt Nam (The Birds of Vietnam, Thế Giới Publishers). This is the definitive Vietnamese-language photographic guide to the over 800 species of bird that can be found in Vietnam, and it has no equal in English. Which is all to say that Tiến knows his stuff — he’s familiar with the various habitats of the park, and was reasonably sure that we could find one of these gray giants. Still, a birdwatcher knows better than to make promises. The great slaty woodpecker is a threatened species. Previous visitors to the park have come up empty-handed.

Left: Bùi Đức Tiến, vice-president of the Vietnam Bird Conservation Society, during the trip. Right: The road leading into the forest. Photos by Thomas Mourez.

The great slaty woodpecker is not the only giant to be pushed towards extinction by human activity. That caveat, “largest woodpecker left in the world,” is only because the larger ivory-billed and imperial woodpeckers of North America were recently considered to be certainly extinct, though back in the United States there remains a devoted cohort of unicorn-chasers who insist that the ivory-billed is alive, poring over pixelated photos that are roughly as compelling as evidence of bigfoot. For the time being, there is no question that a healthy population of great slaty woodpeckers remains in Yok Đôn. But given their listing in 2010 as “Vulnerable” on the IUCN Red List, their future is not guaranteed.

Tiến explained that the greatest threats to the bird life of Yok Đôn come, predictably, from humans. Cattle grazing within the park boundary, as well as poaching and trapping for the caged bird trade all take their toll. Within minutes of entering the park, we saw evidence of this activity. Herds of cows wandered beneath the broadleaved trees, their bells the only sound in the silence. On our second day, we encountered and destroyed a large mist net, over two meters high and four meters across, meant to snare birds as they passed through. But the bird life in the park remains abundant. We saw 111 species in just four days, 11 of those being different kinds of woodpecker, with gõ kiến xám taking the place of honor atop our list.

It is difficult to describe the sensation of spotting a rare and beautiful bird in the wild. Imagine four people hooting and leaping while trying to make as little noise as possible. Our first of two sightings happened suddenly, a bird bursting across treetops and flying directly over our heads. Its silhouette is that of a pterodactyl — thin neck and oversized head, great dipping wingbeats. The woodpecker landed on an exposed patch of tree trunk just long enough for a few passable photographs, and after that abundant courtesy, it was gone.

Gõ kiến xám seen from a distance. Photo by Thomas Mourez.

We are not alone in this passion, us four lunatics all celebrating as though we’d each just scored the winning goal in a World Cup match. According to the Center for Responsible Travel, birdwatching is a multi-billion dollar industry, with over 3 million international trips taken every year with the primary purpose of birdwatching. As a safe country with outstanding bird diversity, Vietnam stands to benefit from a boom in low-impact, high-spend birdwatchers. Indeed, Tiến sees forest preservation and anti-poaching efforts as working hand-in-hand with efforts to increase domestic interest in Vietnam’s amazing birdlife, and improving accommodations and other tourist infrastructure.

A pair of black-headed woodpeckers (gõ kiến xanh hông đỏ) seen during the trip. Photo by Alexander Yates.

Until that boom comes, gõ kiến xám remains in the forests of Yok Đôn, raising chicks on meals of fat termites. Anyone looking to see them, or the many other stunning falcons, parakeets, owls and woodpeckers that inhabit Yok Đôn, need only step into the woods, look up, and hope.

This article was originally published in 2022.

The Overwhelming Presence of Nature's Most Inspiring Sound: Cát Tiên's Gibbon Call

2025-05-24T16:00:00+07:00

What is your favorite sound?

We don’t ask each other this enough. Favorite food, color, movie, sure, but sound? I don’t think anyone has ever asked me that. And my answer is easy: a gibbon call.

Video of the southern yellow-cheeked gibbon (vượn đen má vàng Nam)'s morning call in Cát Tiên National Park. Video via Ryan Campbell.

A series of resonant whoops accelerating to reverberating chirps, answered by staccato yips and howls fills Vietnam’s jungles at dawn. It sounds as if the gibbons have poured molten indigo into the forest’s every leafy gear and fusebox. The so-called “great call” of a yellow-cheeked gibbon and the enthusiastic duet response of her male life partner is simply one of the most astounding noises in the animal kingdom.

When the sun begins to peer through the mist hanging in the towering tung trees, the calls stampede above the forest. Each gibbon pair begins their day by announcing their territory with duets that serve to simultaneously strengthen their bonds. The songs plunge listeners into the realization that they are fully and completely in a complex and beautiful natural world that exists beyond the petty concerns of humanity.

A male (left) and female (right) southern white-cheeked gibbon. Photo via iNaturalistUK.

I gained a greater appreciation for the gibbon calls earlier this month during a trip to Cát Tiên National Park, when I could hear the songs in their natural environment, amidst the totality of the rich and interconnected rainforest ecosystem where endangered Bengal monitors stalk the leafy undergrowth, and rosewood trees rise in defiance of furniture manufacturers. If the forest could offer a single song to express its fragile vibrancy, it would be the gibbon’s morning call.

That recent trip wasn't when I first came to love the gibbon call, however. When I lived overlooking the Saigon Zoo, I heard the resident gibbons sing every morning. Particularly during the COVID-19 period, when the noises would shatter the aching silence of the city, they seemed to manifest loneliness and anxiety, much like how the great Chinese poets Li Bai and Du Fu used the calls to conjure isolation and melancholy.

My appreciation for the calls goes back decades before that, however. Before embarking on my university studies, I spent a summer taking a course in ethology at the University of Chicago. I was tasked with observing gibbons in the zoo for several hours a day, noting their every behavior, including their morning calls and separate calls of warning and alert. The exercise proved essential for teaching me that I didn’t want to embark down a path of science that dissected with painstaking record, keeping the intricacies of the natural world in clinically quantifiable terms. I preferred to let it wash over me in a deluge of unknowable, quasi-religious awe. It’s not much exaggeration to say I have the gibbon call to thank for inspiring me to become a writer and not a scientist.

I’m not unique, though, and I think we all could learn something from listening to the gibbon call, particularly when it essentially translates to “good morning - leave us alone in our corner of the forest.”

A Botanical Illustrator Captures Vietnam's Flora on Paper, One Species at a Time

2025-05-10T16:00:00+07:00

When science and art commingle in a botanical illustration, it’s as if a magical world appears, where colors, brushstrokes, and lighting work together to not only replicate but also breathe life into nature’s best creations.

Phan Thị Thanh Nhã is a botanist by trade, working as a teaching assistant at the Botany Lab of the Faculty of Biology-Biotechnology at the University of Science, HCMC Vietnam National University. Interestingly, she is also the author behind all the illustrations in her botanical research.

Phan Thị Thanh Nhã at the exhibition “Fields of Optics | Chapter I: Biocenosis”

Nhã embarked on her journey with botanical illustration, a relatively new and challenging field in Vietnam, thanks to previous works by Professor Phạm Hoàng Hộ, including two iconic books Cây cỏ Việt Nam (The Flora of Vietnam) and Hiển hoa bí tử (Flowering Plants). She was the first artist in the field from Vietnam whose art pieces were featured internationally, at the “Flora of Southeast Asia” exhibition in September 2022. The success of the event helped consolidate Nhã’s faith in her craft, making her realize that there’s a space in botanical illustration for young enthusiasts like her, as long as they approach it seriously and with an open mind.

Rhynchospora corymbosa (L.) Britton | Chủy tử tản phòng | Golden beaksedge

Into the world of native flora

Nhã is pursuing different forms of scientific illustration, but her focus is on botanical illustration and botanical art. The former places emphasis on scientific utility and perspective; the latter, while still scientifically accurate, can concentrate on aesthetic appeal instead.

A botanical illustration is a faithful depiction of a species, often used in scientific documents, textbooks, and research publications. Artworks in this genre require a high level of accuracy when it comes to detailing every part of the plant. These visual portrayals, alongside in-depth description texts, will provide readers with a comprehensive profile about the species in question.

‎Garcinia phuongmaiensis V.S.Dang, H.Toyama & D.L.A.Tuan | Bứa Phương Mai | Exhibition: “Margaret Flockton Award 2023”

Botanical art, on the other hand, aims to blend the precision of botany with the emotional appeal of visual art. It’s still rooted in scientific specifications, but instead of showing every part and life stage of the plant, the artist can choose to zoom in on a leaf or a flower. As long as the work is botanically accurate, the author is free to experiment with composition, lighting, or even emotional narrative to help the species stand out.

Camellia honbaensis Luu, Q.D.Nguyen & G.Tran | Trà mi Hòn Bà.

“Each species has its own scientific name in Latin,” she explained. Before starting any illustration, Nhã must seek out its scientific name and read all related documents, such as the plant’s medicinal properties, natural distribution, and usage. In learning comprehensively about the species, she arrives at the most complete picture to start sketching.

The final work is a team effort

Once an initial sketch is done, she will send it to the leading experts of each plant family or order to get their feedback, and discuss with them how to adjust the illustration.

Camellia yokdonensis Dung bis & Hakoda | Trà mi Yok Đôn.

“For instance, when I was creating a piece on the Yok Đôn camellia flower, the researchers suggested I modify the flower to face upwards, and informed me about its two color variants: vibrant orange and gentle pink,” Nhã recalled. “After our discussion, they recommended I depict the pink variant to appeal to viewers’ taste, so they could feel connected to it and maybe will seek it out to plant at home.”

Still, accuracy is a high priority for her artworks, as each fold and vein of the leaves must be replicated correctly. The experts not only weigh in to help correct the sketch but also provide her with ample references on the plant’s visual appearance, medicinal use, and biological attributes so she could best bring the plant to life on paper.

Calophyllum inophyllum L. | Mù u.

Picking the right medium for the illustrations is also a crucial step. Each plant species carries with it a distinctive elegance, angularity or movement, so the material to execute their portrayal should also fit those characteristics. Colored pencils and watercolor are most commonly used to depict flowers. Rhizomes like ginger relatives tend to be sharper, so she usually picks acrylic. Besides, silk painting is another possible choice for botanical illustrations.

A piece of botanical illustration is often highly valuable, not just due to material costs, but also because of the effort and time spent completing it. The creative part does require a high level of focus, but to Nhã, the most challenging step involves getting feedback from the experts and then modifying each small detail based on the comments so that the plant appears most accurately. Some illustrations, because of that, might take years to finish.

Loving means understanding

It’s Nhã’s hope to transform seemingly complicated science into something approachable to everyone, so they can better understand the flowers, trees and fruits of their nation. She believes that only by really understanding something can we grow to love it; and once we love it, we’ll spend efforts to preserve and protect it, and to cultivate it in order to prolong its existence on Earth. One of the methods of plant conservation that she tries to promote is ex situ conservation — protecting species outside of their natural habitat.

Inside the “Scent Station” workshop.

Nhã has been doing her part to connect and expand the community of plant aficionados through many initiatives, from organizing workshops to hands-on programs to give people a chance to get to know Vietnam’s amazing botanical diversity.

Starting from October 2023, Nhã commenced a series of events providing multi-sensory experiences revolving around botanical illustration, including “Botanical Art: Ways of Seeing” (visual), “Botanical Art: Scent Station” (olfactory), and “From Palette to Palate” (gustatory), and tactile experiences via a collaboration with a fashion organization in Saigon.

Common household spices of Vietnam as seen in Scent Station.

During the olfactory workshop, Nhã presented a collection of essential oils and introduced oil extraction methods while providing cautions on how to use them to guests. Various nuggets of specialized knowledge from fields like organic chemistry and plant anatomy were peppered throughout the event in accessible and educational ways. Participants had an opportunity to explore the oils with four senses: observing the physical state of the oils and viewing illustrations of the plants that produce them, listening to the background information, feeling the sensations of some skin-safe oils like mù u, passion fruit, and sachi on their hands, and smelling them.

In 2024, she also organized events focusing on sketching and exploring the plant world with children, students, and senior participants. To join, one does not need to know how to draw or have any botany knowledge, because Nhã believes that anyone can pick up a pencil to draw and get closer to the universe of botanical illustration.

Each artwork reflects the soul

The time spent working closely with plants is when Nhã feels the most connected to nature in a wholesome way. It’s not simply replicating the silhouettes of a leaf or a petal, but embodying their truest soul on paper via an in-depth understanding.

Neptunia oleracea Lour. | Rau nhút.

Spending time with plants is also a journey of self-discovery. The illustrator can hone their fingers’ nimbleness and sharpen their observational skills, but most importantly, learn how to listen to their body. With every brushstroke, they could reduce stress, be in tune with the rhythm of their breaths, practice mindfulness, and marvel at the beauty of nature.

The world of plants is expansive where each leaf, each cell is constantly living. Through her work in botanical illustration, Nhã has a front seat to witness those pulses of life while unearthing the eclectic natural treasures in the familiar world around her.

Lúa Ma, the Mekong's Ancient Wild Rice Varieties Holding Secrets to Climate Resilience

2025-05-07T14:00:00+07:00

“It’s been so long I can barely remember. It’s delicious, fragrant, soft but not sticky,” says Trần Văn Lựa, 53, a farmer from Đồng Tháp Province, south-west Vietnam, recalling the taste of wild rice. As a child, he would harvest the grain during flood season, when wild rice flowers. Today, however, it is a rare sight.

Wild rice, known locally as “ghost rice” (lúa ma), is the common name for Oryza rufipogon, a perennial native to Vietnam’s Mekong Delta and the ancestor of modern Asian rice (Oryza sativa). It carries genes that confer resistance to pests like rice leaf folder moths, stem-boring insects and viral diseases like rice grassy stunt and ragged stunt — traits lost in modern varieties. Its high genetic diversity is a rich resource for scientists to develop new genes that are adaptive to drought, flooding, heat and acidic soils.

As climate pressures mount, these qualities are proving more important than ever. Yet Vietnam, one of the species’ last global refuges, is struggling to preserve it.

A lifeline during flood season

In the 1970s, wild rice was a lifeline during wartime and food shortages. It thrived in the floodplains of the Đồng Tháp Mười region, where seasonal inundation submerged fields for months. A sack of wild rice, locals say, would fetch three times the price of regular rice.

Once abundant, it has since become a rarity, often mistaken for “weedy rice” (Oryza spontanea), an aggressive weed that produces fewer grains, which shed early, causing mass crop failures. The perception of wild rice as a weed has persisted even among international scientific circles, with the North American Plant Protection Organization and several US states classifying it as such.

Vietnam is home to four of the world’s wild rice species: Oryza rufipogon, Oryza nivara, Oryza officinalis and Oryza granulata. Only rufipogon and officinalis are still found in the Mekong Delta; nivara was last seen in the Delta’s Tràm Chim National Park in 1980, and is now still present in Hồ Lắk, a lake in central Đắk Lắk Province.

A rare cluster of Oryza rufipogon, or “ghost” rice, in Tràm Chim National Park, Vietnam. Once abundant and a crucial food source during shortages, it has since become a rarity, often mistaken for “weedy rice.” Photo by Nam Phong/Mekong Eye.

Bùi Chí Bửu is the former director of the Institute of Agricultural Science for Southern Vietnam and one of the few Vietnamese scientists studying wild rice. He says its remarkable genetic diversity makes it ideal for breeding climate-resilient rice.

Wild rice grows low across wetland plains and can survive months of inundation. Its seeds can lie dormant for years, germinating only when conditions align.

Harvesting it requires precision: wild rice sheds grains at the slightest breeze, so farmers often go out on their boats before dawn — when winds are calm — spreading blankets across their boats and tapping the stalks with bamboo poles to catch the falling grains.

This ghostly shedding is what earned it the name lúa ma, meaning “ghost rice.”

It is valued for its genes. “Wild rice possesses a highly diverse genetic foundation,” Bửu says. “The species contains rare genes that cultivated and native rice varieties have lost over the evolutionary pathway.” These include alleles — specific gene variants — that were largely lost during the domestication of rice and modern breeding efforts, which narrowed the gene pool by selecting only for traits like high yield or uniformity. Many of these lost genes are now recognized as critical for tolerance to climate stress and toxic metals in acidic soils.

Bùi Chí Bửu, one of the few Vietnamese scientists studying wild rice, tends to Oryza officinalis in his garden in Cần Thơ. He says that the species contains rare genes that cultivated and native rice varieties have lost over the evolutionary pathway. Photo by Nam Phong/Mekong Eye.

Research by Bửu’s team found that while cultivated rice in Vietnam has a low genetic diversity index (0.2), wild rice in the Mekong Delta ranges from 0.4 to 0.6, sometimes higher. “For a country with weak genetic diversity [of rice] like Vietnam, preserving species with rich genetic foundations is essential,” he says.

Meanwhile, despite resembling cultivated rice, weedy rice is genetically unstable due to crossbreeding with genetically dissimilar strains. It sheds all its grains at maturity, causing up to 60% crop loss, and spreads rapidly. Its similarity to farmed rice renders it resistant to herbicides, making it especially difficult to control.

Tracking a vanishing gene bank

In his home garden in Cần Thơ, Bửu tends to several wild rice species collected from across southern Vietnam.

Wild rice is remarkably resilient, but not invincible. To keep them alive, he must propagate the plants every few years. “Even as a perennial, if left alone, they will exhaust themselves and die,” he explains.

On-farm breeding — where plants are cultivated and selected in open fields rather than labs — is a low-cost method used in Vietnam and parts of Africa, but it comes with risks. Plants are vulnerable to cross-pollination and small gene pools can collapse with a single failed generation.

A more secure backup lies at the Mekong Delta Rice Research Institute (MDRRI), also in Cần Thơ, where hundreds of pots of wild rice are maintained alongside a small seed bank. The institute stores 600 samples of Oryza rufipogon and Oryza officinalis in cold storage and net houses — screened structures that regulate sunlight and pest exposure. To preserve viability, seeds are periodically revived, grown and re-stored to prevent the gradual loss of germination.

In the net house of the Mekong Delta Rice Research Institute, hundreds of pots of wild rice are cultivated. Photo by Nam Phong/Mekong Eye.

Two wild rice varieties, Oryza officinalis and Oryza rufipogon, are currently stored in the gene bank of the Mekong Delta Rice Research Institute, but funding has become a problem. Photo by Nam Phong/Mekong Eye.

However, institutional seed banks face funding challenges.

“In the past, funding for our gene bank came entirely from the Plant Resources Center, which supported cold storage and seed rejuvenation,” says Trần Ngọc Thạch, the institute’s director. “But now, we fund the cold storage ourselves, so preservation is less than ideal.”

There are two main strategies for conserving wild rice: ex-situ, through storage in seed banks, and in-situ, conserving the plants in their natural habitats. While gene banks safeguard genetic material, they halt natural evolution. In-situ conservation, on the other hand, allows species to continue adapting to changing conditions.

Elsewhere, wild rice remains a low priority. The Indigenous Rice Gene Bank at Cần Thơ University is among the few better-funded preservation facilities in the country, with around 5,000 samples. But its focus is on seasonal, lowland and rain-fed varieties from the Mekong Delta — none of them wild.

“Wild rice seeds require special regeneration conditions, which we are not prioritizing due to limited funding and manpower,” says Nguyễn Thành Tâm, head of agricultural development at the MDRRI.

In-situ conservation is widely regarded as the best way to protect and evolve the species. But it, too, is under pressure: farmers prefer high-yield hybrids, and wetland habitats are shrinking or degraded.

Tràm Chim National Park, in Đồng Tháp province near Vietnam’s border with Cambodia, is the country’s largest in-situ wild rice conservation site and has drawn international interest for its biodiversity. The park, along with the larger province, is home to Oryza rufipogon populations with the highest recorded genetic diversity in the Mekong Delta.

Before 2015, Tràm Chim’s wild rice fields covered nearly 1,000 hectares, thriving alongside wetland species like Eleocharis dulcis (water chestnut or năn ống), Eleocharis atropurpurea (purple spikerush or năn kim) and several types of native grasses.

Ghost rice growing on a canal bank in Tràm Chim National Park, near Vietnam’s border with Cambodia, where it used to thrive alongside other wetland species. Photo by Nam Phong/Mekong Eye.

Today, park officials estimate only 520 hectares remain, half the area seen a decade ago. Pure wild rice fields, which totalled just 33 hectares in 2015, have continued to shrink. “Wild rice is now scattered across many areas rather than concentrated in one place,” says Đoàn Văn Nhanh, deputy director of the park’s Center for Conservation and International Cooperation.

Cruising through Tràm Chim’s waterways in early January, the usual blooming season for wild rice, there was little sign of the plant — only stretches of water chestnut. A few clumps of wild rice clung to levees.

Each year, wild rice sprouts tall as Mekong floodwaters rise, flowering at peak inundation, but patterns are changing. “It seems that this year, the flood surged and retreated unusually fast, leaving barely any wild rice,” says Trần Văn Lựa, a local farmer.

Nhanh agrees. He believes erratic floods have disrupted the plant’s natural cycle. Roaming cattle, often released into the park, graze on what little remains.

Rebuilding a habitat

Covering just over 7,300 hectares, the national park shelters 130 plant species, 130 freshwater fish and 231 bird species — many of them endemic. But years of mismanaged hydrology have disrupted this delicate balance. A 10-year restoration project, backed by over VND184 billion (US$7 million) from the Đồng Tháp Provincial People’s Committee, is now underway. The Sarus Crane Conservation and Development Project combines ecological restoration, captive breeding and organic agriculture to restore crane populations and protect the park’s biodiversity.

A flock of sarus crane in Tràm Chim National Park. The endangered species uses ghost rice fields as feeding and resting grounds and are now a rare sight in the area. Photo by Tang A Pau.

“At Tràm Chim, we are restoring and rehabilitating the ecosystems, with a focus on Eleocharis atropurpurea [purple spikerush], the main food source for cranes,” says Nhanh. The cranes are an indicator of wetland health, he adds.

To prevent forest fires, park managers introduced canals and levees to maintain higher water levels year-round, altering the natural six-month cycle. Wild rice, unable to regenerate without dry periods and decomposed surface nutrients, began disappearing, including from its former stronghold on the park’s eastern side.

Wild rice plays a critical ecological role in the Delta. Its roots, stems, leaves and seeds are a major food source for birds and fish during stressful periods like deep flooding or drought, explains Dương Văn Ni, a biodiversity expert at Cần Thơ University. When wild rice disappears, the food chain unravels. Species that depend on it decline and eventually vanish.

“Water flow into the Mekong Delta no longer follows its usual patterns,” says Nhanh. “With unpredictable climate and hydrological factors, we must remain flexible in how we manage the park to avoid significant losses.” Water levels, he adds, are now adjusted in response to shifting rainfall patterns.

Efforts to reverse the damage are underway. Controlled burning of grasslands was reintroduced and park staff are restoring native grasses critical to crane habitats, alongside wild rice. A five-hectare pilot plot of wild rice has shown tentative signs of recovery. A new ecological rice farming initiative, dubbed “Rice calls the cranes back,” has also been launched to align organic cultivation with habitat restoration. The broad goal is to convert 200 hectares to this model by 2028.

But as Mekong flood patterns grow more erratic — driven by climate change and upstream hydropower — the long-term outlook of species like wild rice remains uncertain. Their loss would not only threaten local biodiversity, but erase genetic resources for climate-resilient agriculture across the region.

“Each species has its own adaptation limits, and wild rice is no exception,” says Dương. “Maintaining a healthy natural ecosystem, therefore, creates the best conditions for many species. Ongoing, updated research will be essential to sustain the ecosystem as a living being.”

This article was co-published in English by Mekong Eye and Dialogue Earth and was republished on Saigoneer with permission. Visit the original article here.

As Saltwater Intrudes More of Mekong Delta, Durian Farmers Struggle to Stay Afloat

2025-04-25T15:00:00+07:00

Nguyễn Văn Quại, 63, walked slowly on the muddy dirt path in his yard, his hands clasped behind his back. He stopped beside a tree split in half, its branches dipping into the stagnant water of a narrow moat, and gestured towards the rest of his leafless crop — their trunks yellow, their bark cracked and brittle.

This story was supported by the Pulitzer Center.

Nguyễn Văn Quại points to his durian trees in Ngũ Hiệp.

For decades, Quại has called Ngũ Hiệp home. The small island on the Mekong River in Tiền Giang Province is less than two hours inland from the sea. His family first farmed rice but turned to durian, a more lucrative crop, in the early 1990s. Now, more than 200 trees stand in his yard, their thorny fruit bringing in hundreds of millions of VND.

But like many farmers in the Mekong Delta, Quại is watching his land turn against him. Last year, drought pushed saltwater deep into the delta’s freshwater reserves, seeping into fields that had sustained generations. Thousands of hectares of crops withered, leaving farmers scrambling to salvage what they could.

Like Quại, many farmers in the region are struggling under the combined weight of drought, rising sea levels, and coastal erosion. Under the pressures of climate change and industrial exploitation, briny water from the sea is pushing further and further inland.

Lifestyles and livelihoods in the Mekong Delta are reliant on the region's waterways. Photo: On the river in Cần Thơ.

According to the Mekong River Commission, approximately 65 million people in the Lower Mekong rely on agriculture as their central livelihood. However, salt intrusion is only getting worse. Researchers at Netherlands Utrecht University and the Deltares research institute have found that saltwater intrusion has been increasing over the last twenty years and by 2050, as much as 100,000–800,000 hectares of land in the Mekong Delta could be affected by worrying levels of salt intrusion.

Climate change and human drivers, such as upstream damming and sand mining, are two of the greatest factors driving the salt intrusion crisis, said Sepehr Eslami, lead researcher on the study. The effects are being felt heavily downstream.

Boats bridge the gap between the banks of the Cần Thơ River in late July 2024. Local travel in the region often requires boats.

“This year was one of the worst in the past few years,” Quại said of the drought that killed off about 30 of his durian trees, including all of his newly grown durian saplings in late April last year. “People didn’t even have enough water to use, let alone plants.”

A fallen durian tree lies on its side in Nguyễn Văn Quại’s durian farm on July 27, 2024.

Quại said it costs about VND100,000 to buy a durian tree sapling. This expense does not include the cost of fertilizers and pesticides, labor and the constant upkeep needed to protect them from pests and other stressors. His family lost about VND30 million as drought and saltwater intrusion devastated their crops.

Durian saplings for sale at Trần Thị Kim Thơ’s nursery.

Durian, however, is not the only crop that reacts poorly to elevated levels of salt. Rice plants, for example, produce fewer and lighter grains when exposed to too much salt. Their leaves also curl and turn yellow, and many of their flowers fail to turn into seeds, meaning a smaller harvest. It also impacts another popular crop known to be moderately salt tolerant: coconut trees. When exposed to prolonged or excessive salt stress, they experience stunted growth, reduced yields and potential death.

For durians, it often starts with leaf tips and edges drying out, turning yellow and eventually dropping, Quại said. As the stress on the trees worsens, they produce fewer flowers, and young fruits drop before they have a chance to ripen.

A stack of dead durian trees, chopped up for firewood, is piled in Nguyễn Văn Quại’s yard after the 2024 growing season.

Normally, a durian tree takes four to five years to bear fruit and can thrive year-round — provided there is a stable water source. But as droughts and salt intrusion continue, keeping the trees alive has become an uphill battle. The worsening conditions forced Quại’s youngest daughter to leave Ngũ Hiệp, relocating to Đắk Lắk with her husband and friends in search of more stable land to grow durian. But even in the Central Highlands, she found no refuge — droughts there, too, were taking their toll.

Many of Quại’s durian trees were affected by other issues exacerbated by elevated salt levels, he said, like fungi and pests. For him, 2024 was the worst year yet. But 2025 is delivering its own challenges, as experts warn salt intrusion could be particularly high over the next two months. Provinces on the west coast like Cà Mau will have the highest salinity readings in April and May this year, said Nguyễn Thị Hồng Điệp, Advanced Senior Lecturer at Cần Thơ University’s College of Environment and Natural Resources, noting that industrial exploitation and climate change are key driving factors.

Coconut trees along the Mekong River show yellowing leaves in July 2024.

“The best course of action is to live with nature”

High temperatures, droughts, water shortages and saltwater intrusion affect many regions in Vietnam, including the Mekong Delta. In 2024, a directive from Prime Minister Phạm Minh Chính called for a series of urgent measures to safeguard water resources, protect agricultural production, and ensure stable living conditions for millions at risk. The directive laid out several strategies, including monitoring weather patterns, devising emergency response plans, and urging farmers to adopt water-efficient practices. Investing in water infrastructure projects was also identified as a priority, among others. Local authorities have also been tasked with dredging key irrigation channels to boost storage capacity and deploying tanker trucks if necessary to ensure uninterrupted access.

Planting salt-tolerant species and changing farming models can also help protect the region in the long term, Điệp said, while strategies like rainwater collection, water recycling, and changing crops may be the best course of action for local farmers.

Construction of a sluice gate at Cái Khế Canal in Cần Thơ City, preparing to open at the end of Summer 2024. Sluice gates are used to reduce flooding and prevent salt intrusion.

Though climate change has played a significant role in the region’s issues with salt intrusion, industrial developments like upstream damming also continue to put stress on river levels by disrupting fresh water supply downstream and depleting the region’s sediment. According to the Mekong Dam Monitor, a project of global think tank the Stimson Center, there are approximately 60 upstream dams across China, Thailand, Laos and Cambodia that significantly disrupt the flow of freshwater downstream to agricultural lands in Vietnam.

Much of the issue of salt intrusion comes down to protecting the sediment supply, said Esmali, which is essential for preventing the erosion of the South Vietnam coast. As salt intrusion becomes more extreme, farmers may face difficult choices.

“They will either have to change crops, or they will have fresh water supply challenges, or they have to switch jobs and migrate from the region,” said Esmali. “There is a range of adaptation options and none of them are easy.” As conditions become more extreme, freshwater zones like Cần Thơ and Tiền Giang provinces that are protected by sluice gates will begin to experience some of these challenges as well, and conditions in areas that are already affected will get worse.

But adapting and adjusting at a local level will be essential. “The best course of action is to live with nature and to adapt,” said Võ Thành Danh, Professor of Economics at Cần Thơ University, who has helped to assess the viability of coastal adaptation strategies in the delta. Turning environmental stress into opportunities to change crops may be one way to adapt.

Lê Thị Bé Hai and her family lost around VND30 million in income after salt intrusion killed several of their durian trees.

Delta residents like Trần Thị Kim Thơ are doing exactly that, as her family was forced to cut their losses as saltwater intrusion wiped out all 100 of their durian trees. Also natives of Ngũ Hiệp, Thơ’s family have grown durians for nearly 30 years. But with the land no longer reliable for full-grown trees, they pivoted to selling ornamental plants and saplings — among them, more than a thousand young durian trees.

“People only buy them when their durian trees die — the more plants that die, the more they buy,” Thơ said about the saplings. Though her family doesn’t make as much as they did before and their income is unstable, she said, it’s a much safer investment. The saplings and ornamental trees require less water than durian trees, making them less vulnerable to droughts and saltwater intrusion, she explained.

Trần Thị Kim Thơ’s family switched to selling durian saplings after losing nearly 100 durian trees due to salt intrusion.

But Thơ and her family are among the few in Ngũ Hiệp who have stepped away from this prized crop out of caution. With its high economic value, durian continues to attract many others in the region. Despite the mounting challenges, they remain determined to grow it, holding onto the hope that the rewards will ultimately outweigh the risks, she said.

Quại and his wife, 62-year-old Lê Thị Bé Hai, are among those willing to take the risks. As they pulled back the tarp covering the chopped-up remains of the trees that didn’t survive, they said it wasn’t their first time doing this. “If a tree dies, we chop it down and grow a new one,” Hai said. “We’re not giving up.”

Locals cross the Cần Thơ River. As saltwater conditions become more extreme, freshwater zones like Cần Thơ may have to contend with a more difficult future.

This story was supported by the Pulitzer Center.

WWF Works to Preserve the Elements of the Mekong Delta through Sustainable Products

2025-02-24T05:13:00+07:00

Over the past few months, WWF has been running a multi-faceted campaign to spotlight the importance of sustainable ingredients from the Mekong Delta.

The collaboration kicked off last year with the Elements of the Mekong Delta networking dinner. Chef Trụ Lang and his team at Mùa Craft Saké worked with Nguyễn Thị Phương Uyên, head chef of Nam Mê Kitchen & Bar, to design a menu highlighting products from the WWF’s nature-based solutions (NbS) projects. Centered around floating rice, shrimps, crabs, lotus seeds, and freshwater prawns, the six-dish “Ăn Cơm” concept gave guests a taste of how Saigon foodies can support and benefit sustainable practices. By amplifying the visibility of the delta’s responsibly produced agriculture and aquaculture alongside the voices of farmers and communities embracing the projects, WWF hopes more consumers will consider the items for their homes and restaurants.

Elements of the Mekong Delta dinner.

One dinner alone isn’t enough to introduce these delicious, sustainably sourced ingredients to the many people who would appreciate their impact on both communities and the environment. That’s why WWF created Elements of the Mekong Delta, a four-part video series showcasing these products through the lens of culinary creativity. Each episode features a talented Saigon chef creating a dish with different NbS project ingredients, highlighting their unique flavors and versatility.

Filming day for Elements of the Mekong Delta video series.

In episode one, Chef Trụ Lang kicked things off with ốc bươu cơm tấm made with floating rice. Chef Anaïs Ca Dao van Manen followed up in episode two with tôm sú kakiage, pairing crispy black tiger prawns with delicate floating rice noodles. Episode three brought Chef Nghiêm Minh Đức’s refined cua Cà Mau consommé, and for the grand finale, Chef Peter Cường Franklin served up fried floating rice with dried cá chốt—a bold and flavorful tribute to Vietnam’s rich culinary heritage.

Each of the four dishes made for the Elements of the Mekong Delta series.

But Elements of the Mekong isn’t just about incredible dishes—it’s about the people and places behind them. While the chefs shared their love for these ingredients and the realities of sustainable cooking, we wanted to go further. Together with WWF, Saigoneer ventured into the heart of the Mekong Delta, traveling to Long An, Cà Mau, and Kiên Giang to meet the farmers themselves. We watched as they carefully harvested black apple snails, black tiger prawns, and mud crabs—ingredients that have been part of local traditions for generations. Seeing their deep connection to the land and the patience required for their work made every dish feel even more meaningful.

Farmers in the Mekong Delta invited Saigoneer into their home to learn about the NbS projects.

Now, these same ingredients are making their way into markets and kitchens across Saigon, ready for anyone to explore their flavors. Watch all four episodes of Elements of the Mekong and dive into the stories behind each dish here each dish here.

The Power of Sustainable Ingredients

Elements of the Mekong Delta’s mission to raise awareness for the availability of local, sustainably produced ingredients is of great importance. Compared to conventionally-produced fruits, vegetables, grains, meats, and seafood, they help protect ecosystems, promote biodiversity, and sustain the livelihoods of local farmers. By introducing fewer chemicals and pesticides into soil and waterways, allowing natural cycles to restore and replenish nutrients, and allowing native flora and fauna to thrive, sustainably produced products can ensure priceless nature continues while human communities can exist comfortably.

Farmers in Long An amongst the floating rice. Photo courtesy of WWF.

These efforts are particularly important in the Mekong Delta, which is facing numerous challenges that threaten the environment and jeopardize the livelihoods of those who depend on the region’s agricultural output. By improving the socio-economy and resilience of local communities through the bolstering of sustainable livelihoods, it becomes easier to protect and restore critical ecosystems, and vice versa.

Working with Nature to Restore the Mekong Delta

Restoring the Mekong Delta requires a multi-faceted approach, with NbS such as those featured in Elements of the Mekong emerging as one of the most promising strategies. WWF’s vision for addressing the region’s challenges spans the entire delta including the headwaters, central floodplains, and coastal regions. The strategically selected project sites are located near protected areas, national parks, and other ecologically significant landscapes to enhance biodiversity conservation and sustainable development.

Scaling up sustainable food production is at the heart of the WWF’s work and requires close collaboration with farmers, government agencies, and funding partners to promote food production systems that align with the delta’s natural flood cycles.

Ca Mau communities and farmers benefit from the NbS projects. Photos courtesy of WWF.

The projects include the CRxN Mekong Expansion – Vietnam Country project which is supported by WWF-Australia and DFAT to restore the floodplain in Láng Sen Wetland Reserve by transforming traditional to flood-based agricultural models that contribute to climate resilience.

U Minh Thượng National Park. Photo courtesy of WWF.

WWF is also working to preserve U Minh Thượng National Park, one of Vietnam’s last remaining peatlands by improving the lives of poor communities through the Conservation-Friendly Alternative Livelihoods project, supported by the Swiss Agency for Development and Cooperation (SDC). Meanwhile, in Cà Mau, a shrimp and rice rotation model is being deployed in mangrove canopies to ensure environmental and economic resilience.

What You Can Do

While WWF’s initiatives and similar efforts have made significant strides, restoring the Mekong Delta remains an ongoing challenge—one that requires continuous and collective support.

Photo courtesy of WWF.

By choosing sustainably sourced products, you play a vital role in empowering farmers to maintain eco-friendly practices, protect their livelihoods, and preserve this precious ecosystem for future generations.

How You Can Think and Live Sustainably

2025-02-11T15:27:00+07:00

Frequently touted as environmentally friendly options that help preserve the planet, cotton tote bags require so much energy and freshwater to produce that you must use one at least 7,000 times to make it an effective alternative to plastic bags. Finding out that purchases, habits, and initiatives you thought were good for the planet, such as using tote bags, are in fact not likely to help our current climate crisis can be disheartening. Recognizing how the sustainability movement is rife with performative acts, corporate greenwashing and good intentions thwarted by misinformation threatens to discourage people from the entire concept.

You should push back against this sustainability burnout, however. By approaching sustainability not as an all-or-nothing, extreme concept, but rather a mindset supported by a clear philosophy, firm knowledge, and realistic practices, you can confidently identify and proceed with behaviors that can help save the planet.

Vietnam is home to countless scenes that exemplify Earth's natural splendors.

Before considering how one can act sustainability, one must articulate why it's important. At its most basic level, for humans to continue as a species, our Earth must have clean water, soil, and air. But even before conditions that would eradicate the entire human race develop, pollution, rising sea levels, chaotic storms, and a myriad of other human-caused scenarios will significantly endanger people’s health, safety, and quality of life. It’s already happening. This is in addition to the impacts on flora and fauna that face extinction through no actions of their own. The science is settled on the cause of these issues and the only question one must ask oneself is if humanity is worth survival.

Evidence of human impact on the environment and the behaviors that cause them is everywhere.

Admitting we want to save the planet is easy, but identifying what must be done is more difficult. There is no magic bullet that will solve the many compounding issues, and even if there were, we need as much time as possible to discover it. Reducing just one aspect of climate change will require the ideas and actions of many people working together. Large corporations will need to change how they operate, including transitioning from fossil fuels and adopting new technologies such as sand batteries. But we cannot rely on ginormous businesses and governments alone to make all the changes. Individuals must act in small ways that add up when done collectively. For example, scientists can research ways to more efficiently grow and store crops, but households must still work to reduce food waste via simple decisions such as not throwing away uneaten items and purchasing local, seasonal produce.

Most industries, such as coffee (left) require massive amounts of heat, which can benefit from employing a sand battery, such as those produced by Alternō (right).

At this individual level of acting sustainability, every decision is an opportunity. Recognizing that a good action is not the enemy of a perfect action allows one to compare the impact of all options and take sustainability into account alongside other factors such as ease and cost. For example, it’s not realistic to never travel in a motorized vehicle even if that were the best way to limit your personal carbon emissions. Still, you can often opt for public transportation or an electric vehicle as opposed to a private, internal-combustion car. Thankfully, such decisions are becoming easier with innovators across sectors providing everything from electric vehicle chargers to bodhi leaf tea bags.

Electric vehicle chargers are becoming increasingly common across the world, including in Vietnam.

Part of adopting a balanced, rational approach to sustainability involves admitting you will make choices based on other criteria. Price and convenience realistically influence our actions. But even if sustainability is not the primary determinant of any choice, it can still play a part. For example, we often eat what is tastiest, but knowing a dish is sustainably produced may motivate us to order it as opposed to an equally delicious one that isn’t. Similarly, solar panels may be better for the environment than connecting one’s home to the power grid, but the fact that they reduce monthly electricity bills may prove to be the necessary motivator for homes and factories to install them.

Solar panels can help the financial bottom line for industrial and residential buildings, including countryside homes such as those pictured here.

Education is crucial for taking actions that make a tangible difference. You must have a strong foundational knowledge about what choices are available and the facts behind them. Media literacy and staying informed via trustworthy publications, websites, and speakers, as opposed to TikTok influencers and corporate marketing doublespeak is essential. Research and vetting companies and activities can take time, but it's worth it when the health of the planet is involved.

Representatives from Vietnamese companies focused on sustainability explaining their visions during the Powering a Sustainable Future event.

Educating oneself about sustainability is difficult to do alone and it's therefore important to seek out events, organizations, and institutions that can help bridge knowledge gaps. In Vietnam, the Empowering Sustainability Unitour, for example, is a university-based series of events that connects students with experts and innovators via panel discussions, mini-exhibitions, and career opportunities ranging from alternative energy solutions and green transportation to sustainable entrepreneurship, emphasizing practical applications and innovation. The event is particularly helpful for young adults entering full adult independence who must decide where to work and how to live. With this great range of decisions comes opportunities and responsibilities to act with a sustainability mindset which the Unitour can help develop.

With collected, concerted efforts, we can maintain the planet's natural beauty.

Thinking about our planet’s demise and its impact on humanity can be terrifying. Because sustainability has been so thoroughly co-opted by the agents of consumerism, the concept offers little solace. However, if you can consider a sustainability mindset from a holistic perspective, taking into account its philosophical and practical elements alongside a willingness to act boldly in the world, you can do your part.

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Solar Power: Where Economics and Environmentalism Meet

2025-01-31T09:17:00+07:00

When seeing a reflective row of solar panels situated on a roof in Vietnam, it’s easy to assume that the home, office, or factory belonged to someone who had decided to pay a little more for the sake of the common good. One might think that while solar energy has become more affordable and convenient as technologies continue to improve, it still requires consumers to make a conscious decision to spend extra for electricity because it is better for the environment. This, however, is wrong.

An increasing number of solar panels can be seen throughout cities and the countryside in Vietnam.

The Virtues and Surprising Value of Solar Power

We all know that energy derived from the sun is cleaner and better for the environment than energy obtained from burning fossil fuels such as coal and oil. It creates no carbon emissions or other heat-trapping gases that contribute to global warming and climate change. Additionally, it comes without the environmental destruction required for mining or drilling fossil fuels or the massive amounts of water needed for power plants. While it's not without impact, as solar panels rely on precious metals and materials, it's vastly cleaner than conventional alternatives.

Capturing sunlight to transform into energy results in no harmful emissions.

Moreover, Vietnam is particularly well-suited for an increase in solar power adoption. According to a recent study published by The International Journal of Management and Technology for Research Studies, energy demand is rising rapidly as the economy develops, but traditional, dirty sources such as coal and crude oil constitute the largest sources. Meanwhile, large land areas receive significant amounts of sunlight per year with Vietnam amongst the leading nations for sunlight as observed on the solar radiation map.

For these reasons, we were confident that environmental concerns are the primary driver of solar power adoption in Vietnam, however, a conversation with Stride, a cleantech company involved in Vietnam’s solar energy industry, changed our perspective.

Financial considerations motivate the installation of solar panels on large factories and farms.

“I want to reduce my electricity bill, so solar becomes a way to help solve that problem.” Andrew Fairthorne, Stride’s Chief Executive Officer shared when explaining the motivations of many of his customers. "They are less motivated by environmental concerns, and are looking for ways to reduce operating costs for their business to make it more profitable."

The specific economics behind solar energy adoption can be complex, particularly when considering the tariffs, rebates, grants, and taxes that different governments offer to individuals to incentivize adoption. One constant, however, is that energy derived from fossil fuels will continue to rise with increased demand and finite supply, and solar energy will continue to become cheaper to own, install and operate thanks to new technologies. While limiting one’s reliance on fossil fuels is a positive motivator that many consider to be a matter of ethical obligations, the financial bottom line is currently the most convincing reason why people in Vietnam are purchasing solar systems.

Solar panels are particularly effective in rural areas on large buildings.

The Need for Financial Expertise

Solar panels reduce a building’s monthly energy bills from the moment they are installed, and given enough time, these savings pay for the cost of the required equipment. This equipment, however, requires upfront costs that can be overwhelming. The panels “might cost, say, 4,000 US dollars for a typical household, and most people do not have that money readily available,” Andrew said. Large, local banks aren’t eager to maneuver the difficult process for single households or small businesses loans, and individual credit cards aren’t designed for such purposes, he explained. Unless a customer has the full, upfront cost in cash, there aren’t a lot of options. “That's where the financing comes in, allowing for repayments to be made in small installments using the savings generated from the solar energy system.”

Vietnam has many experienced, professional operations for solar panel installation

With more than four decades of combined experience in financial services and technology, Andrew and Stride co-founders, Leo Polojac and Tra Le, have the expertise needed to facilitate private purchases of solar systems which are paid off in small increments. An intuitive mobile app that provides for on-the-spot approval allows customers to make payments and calculate how long it will be until the solar system is paid off using the savings from each month’s energy bills. Moreover, Stride provides comprehensive insurance for protection against natural disasters such as the recent Typhoon Yagi and an independent quality assurance check to ensure the solar system is installed to an international standard.

The specifics of how Stride provides the financing is complicated and not particularly interesting for the average consumer. But this is where Stride excels. Successfully navigating international transfers, cross-border regulations, and lending via currency exchanges is only part of the equation. Stride must have a firm grasp of the underlying technology and market.

Fortuitously, through a mutual acquaintance, the founders got to know Huy Le, who has a background in solar technologies. Not long after they began brainstorming about the potential of solar power in Vietnam after witnessing its proliferation in their native Australia, Andrew and Leo invited Huy to join Stride as Chief Commercial Officer. Huy was able to explain in greater detail how the technology works and also the specific uses, needs, and challenges for Vietnamese customers. He also ensures that Stride only works with experienced, reputable installation companies that offer fully certified and trustworthy equipment.

The Stride team at the Powering a Sustainable Future event speaking with potential clients.

Amongst these challenges for local Vietnamese is a lack of familiarity or comfort with debt and financing options. We all know individuals here who don’t like to use banks and prefer to keep their money in cash, gold, or land. Convincing these individuals to take advantage of Stride’s system often requires clear explanations and positive reputations based on word of mouth and community connections. Huy’s time in the industry has proven instrumental in this. Meanwhile, Leo and Andrew’s roles with global banks working in Vietnam have allowed them to overcome obstacles inherent to explaining to overseas investors and institutions what to expect in terms of timelines, processes, and requirements for the local market.

Since their founding in 2021, Stride is succeeding as evidenced by their support of over 400 solar installations across 48 provinces in Vietnam. This has resulted in over 6,100 MWh's of solar energy produced with a reduction of 2,300 Tonnes of CO2 carbon avoided.

An Impact Beyond Bank Accounts

Saving money may be the main motivation for solar system adoption in Vietnam, and Stride was undoubtedly founded as a means to generate profits, but Andrew admits there is more to life than making money. He shared with pride how a Stride solar system is reducing electricity costs for a kindergarten in the Mekong Delta while providing children with an opportunity to learn about the earth and sustainable stewardship, for example. Meeting large and small customers like the teachers and students at the school and hearing about the positive impact Stride is having is extremely gratifying. “Previously, while in banking, it was mainly looking at reports and numbers”, he said, emphasizing the value of witnessing a difference being made. Reflecting on the experience with the school he said: “By using Stride, they didn't have to put up a lot of capital up front. So they're like, ‘Well, this is a pretty good deal. The solar system pays for itself.’ And then they shared what they were able to do with the savings: buy more toys and upgrade their learning supplies.”

Members of a kindergarten in the Mekong Delta with a Stride representative who helped them fund solar panels for their school.

Stride’s success reveals that the differences being made with solar energy, and environmental progress in general, will require economic incentive. Our society is ultimately driven by money and few decisions are made without it as a primary consideration. For the sake of the planet, we must therefore look to maximize the situations where sustainability makes economic sense. We must be prepared to recognize and foster situations where it’s cheapest to act responsibly towards the Earth. Doing so requires businesses like Stride that have financial and technological expertise along with cultural knowledge and trust.

The Role of Sand Batteries in Responding to the Climate Change Crisis

2025-01-24T06:12:00+07:00

How does a sand battery work?

You’d be forgiven for not even knowing sand batteries exist. When we hear the word battery we picture the electricity-storing devices used to power smartphones, computers, cars and air conditioning remote controls. But batteries can be understood as any device that stores energy.

The batteries we typically think of store chemical energy that can be converted into electricity for use as a power source. But heat is also a form of energy that can be stored and used. The value of this thermal energy is particularly profound when one learns that more than 52% of all energy used worldwide is for heating and cooling. In addition to creating comfortable indoor climates, warming showers, and cooking food, heat is essential for nearly every industrial process, from applying color to plastic trinkets to processing agricultural goods. Regardless of where the energy comes from, the end goal is often pure and basic heat, with electricity often just an intermediary.

Imagine the heat on the bottom of your feet when walking across a sandy beach at midday.

What is a Sand Battery?

What does sand have to do with thermal energy? Think about walking across a beach at midday and you’ll realize how sand is an incredibly efficient material for retaining thermal energy and once warmed, and with proper insulation, it can remain hot for six months. A sand battery is essentially a large encased, insulated mound of sand with internal physical and chemical components that support heating and heat conduction. Energy is transferred into the sand battery from conventional sources including solar panels, generators or a fossil fuel-reliant electricity grid to heat the sand. The battery then retains that thermal energy until it is needed as direct heat or transformed to other forms such as kinetic energy via steam.

Alternō sand battery (far left) with accompanying equipment.

There are numerous uses and advantages of sand batteries. Consider, for example, Vietnam’s large coffee farms. Before roasting the beans, farmers often rely on sunlight to dry them, which puts the entire process at at the mercy of capricious weather patterns. Otherwise, the farmers can dry them with the assistance of carbon-spewing combustin engines. Sand batteries attached to solar panels, however, can provide the coffee farmers with consistent and regular heat that doesn’t release greenhouse gases. Sand batteries can be easily adopted by most industries that employ massive amounts of unseen heat. Textile factories, for example, require heat to iron fabrics while car manufacturers dry paint with hot air. Sand batteries in these situations don’t reduce the quality of the work but drastically cut down on harmful emissions and overall environmental impacts.

Vietnamese farmers typically dry their coffee beans before roasting in the open air or in large greenhouses.

Sandbatteries Developed in Vietnam

Hải Ho has long been aware of the dangers of climate change that result from environmentally destructive behavior. “I watched the Inconvenient Truth in 2008 and since then I’ve been a bit of a doomsday prepper,” he shared with Saigoneer during our visit to his Thủ Đức factory. “My house is right on the beach in Đà Nẵng, so I saw with my own eyes the storms getting bigger and bigger and then I looked at the data.”

Hải’s concern for the future of the planet’s environmental health and the particularly poignant impact on Vietnam led him to establish a sustainable travel company in 2011. Everything was going well until Covid and the business understandably hit a standstill. During the lull, and motivated by a desire to be the change he hoped to see in the world, he moved to remote Bảo Lộc and built a fully off-the-grid home. This is where he saw the applications for sand batteries in Asia setting

After moving into his self-sufficient home, Hai quickly discovered the limits of powering it via solar panels connected to a lithium battery that stored energy to use at night. “You can use an aircon, you can turn on the fan, you can turn the computer; easy peasy. But the moment you press a button to heat up a water heater or the water kettle, it crashes,” he explained. It takes five times as much energy to heat water as it does to run an air conditioner, and this is simply more than a lithium battery can manage. Moreover, in addition to their limited capacity, lithium batteries lose their full storage potential quickly and are always at risk for dangerous malfunctions when exposed to the elements.

Alternō sand battery operated by the Alternō team in their factory.

Hải shared his frustrations about lithium batteries' inability to satisfy routine, daily heating needs on his social media. Friends quickly shared details about sand batteries and by 2021 Hải and his co-founders Nguyễn Quốc Nam launched Alternō. After successful participation in an accelerator program, by 2024 they were working with large corporations including global food conglomerates to install sand batteries as part of holistic technology integration to meet heating needs while reducing emissions.

Alternō battery installed for a client.

Alternō provides businesses with sand batteries designed and constructed in-house as well as supports their clients in selecting and installing appropriate energy source systems. For example, Alternō can provide guidance for choosing the most suitable solar panels for use in coordination with their sand battery. Or, as is sometimes the case, the upfront costs of a clean energy source are not realistic and the Alternō team will help connect the battery to a traditional fossil fuel-burning source. Sand batteries do not produce energy in and of themselves, and will thus always be a piece in the larger puzzle of how to meet energy demands in the most feasible, sustainable way. There is always room for compromise when working on this puzzle.

In addition to a lack of awareness, the biggest challenge for sand battery adoption is their cost. Hải admits that even though his off-the-grid home revealed to him the potential of sand batteries, he can’t actually afford one himself. At approximately 20,000 USD they are not realistic for individual or small business use. And anyway, Hải’s ultimate goal is to have as much of an impact on global emissions as possible, which necessitates working with multinational corporations and huge factories, particularly because they spend half of their fuel costs on heating.

Many small scale business operations in Vietnam still rely on burning wood or fossil fuels to generate heat.

Just because big conglomerates have the cash needed for sand batteries doesn’t mean they are eager to spend it. Thus Hải has learned that he must offer financing options when approaching large companies. Their curiosity about sand batteries gets them in the door, but it’s Alternō’s ability to connect clients to sustainable energy solutions while offering financing options that get contracts signed. To date, their success can be understood as the world most affordable thermal energy storage solution.

Sand Batteries are Not a Silver Bullet … and That is Okay

It was surprising at first to hear that Hải sometimes connects Alternō sand batteries to fossil fuel burning sources as those produce the carbon emissions he is working so hard to reduce. But the more Hải explained his approach to combatting global climate change the more it made sense. While he is an ardent believer who prioritizes the mission of saving the planet from the monster of climate change, he is realistic. “Why are we waiting for a silver bullet? To kill the monster. But in the meantime we have to fire every single kind of bullet we have to slow it down; to buy time for someone to invent the silver bullet,” he explains. “What we do is small, it’s not magic, but maybe it will slow things down so instead of a category 5 storm we experience a category 4 storm. Or maybe it extends disaster from happening in 2030 to happening in 2032 and during that time someone invents something that saves us.”

Alternō presented at the Powering a Sustainable Future event.

Hải became animated when speaking about the other ideas he’s learned about at events while promoting Alternō. From paper batteries to wind turbines on the sides of buildings to tabletop nuclear fusion, many people are crafting “bullets” to slow down climate change like Alternō. Such a situation reveals an important reality about sustainable actions: no singular solution or action will solve everything. Even the most passionate individuals like Hải can only hope to contribute to the larger set of solutions. Hải serves as a great example of how the size of the problem doesn’t have to discourage one from working on those small contributions.

The Alternō headquarters complete with sand batteries in the open space.

How a Startup's Drive to Expand Charging Stations May Shape the Future of EV's in Vietnam

2025-01-16T17:00:00+07:00

A thick haze often hangs above Saigon, obscuring the skyline. Some people can feel a heaviness in their lungs while their eyes and throats throb. After a day spent atop a motorbike idling in traffic, you may notice your facemask has gathered a layer of dark grime. Statistics likely aren’t needed to convince you that the city suffers from poor air quality, though the science certainly exists to back it up. Saigon and Hanoi appear with increasing frequency on the air quality index (AQI) list of most polluted cities. In addition to issues regarding climate change caused by rising carbon levels, living in such conditions carries with it a range of short-term and long-term health risks including breathing difficulties, respiratory infections, and the exacerbation of pre-existing conditions such as asthma as well as stroke, heart disease, lung cancer, and chronic obstructive pulmonary disease.

Streets in Vietnam's large cities are frequently clogged with traffic.

While a variety of economic and industrial conditions contribute to poor air quality, gasoline vehicles contribute up to 70% of urban environmental pollution emissions including dangerous levels of CO and NOx (NO, NO2, N2O3, N2O5), according to the 2019 paper “Urban Transport in Vietnam: A Perspective from Environmental Pollution” published by the European Journal of Engineering and Technology Research. Traffic jams, as are frequently experienced in large cities, exacerbate the situation as gasoline vehicles contribute 4-5 times the level of pollution vapors amidst congestion. In Vietnam, the vast majority of cars run on gasoline and nearly all of Saigon’s more than seven million motorbikes do.

Electric Vehicles Offer Optimism

Combustion engine vehicles release significant pollutants into the city air.

Sitting in traffic, overwhelmed by the noxious fumes and depressed by the visible pollution on the horizon, you, like many, have probably reflected on alternatives including better public transportation and more electric vehicles (EVs). While EVs sound attractive because they emit no toxic pollutants as direct exhaust and are more energy efficient than internal combustion engines, which reduces their total carbon output, adoption remains low. Many reasons exist for why more people have not made the change to EVs, including concerns with the cost, performance and style of the vehicles, as well as access to charging stations and battery safety.

There is cause for optimism, however, as many of the barriers to EV adoption are being removed and technologies are improving to address the concerns. A recent study by KPMG reports that 70% of participant responders in Vietnam expressed interest in buying a hybrid or fully electric vehicle with particular support coming from younger consumers. This desire coincides with the increased availability of EVs from trusted global brands including Hyundai; newer players such as BYD; and local upstarts such as Vinfast and Dat Bike that are offering new designs that boast longer ranges, greater durability, more comfort and higher overall performance. Meanwhile, the government is considering ways to promote e-vehicle ownership via regulations and industry support.

What EBOOST Reveals About the Industry’s Path to Sustainability

Several years ago, before the EV climate in Vietnam appeared so positive, Stefan Kaufmann found himself trapped in Saigon’s claustrophobic traffic during his daily commute and pondered the market potential: “Wow, there are 70 million motorbikes in this country; it’s huge!” he remembers thinking.

Stefan Kaufmann atop the motorbike he built at an EBOOST charging station.

The Swiss national with a background in microengineering was working in operational management for a global materials corporation but nurtured an entrepreneurial spirit and romantic notions of becoming a startup founder. Driven by a desire to overcome the challenges of starting his own business, he launched a company assembling and selling electric vehicles in tandem with charging ports. While building the bikes on the ground floor of his apartment and working his corporate day job, he learned difficult but necessary lessons regarding establishing networks and partnerships. As he progressed and continued to analyze the market and its development he realized it would be better to focus fully on another aspect of electric vehicles he had been concurrently developing thanks to a fortuitous realization.

“Don't call me stupid; you can think about many things as an entrepreneur, but sometimes you miss the most essential things,” Stefan explained during his visit to the Saigoneer offices earlier this year. “Where do I go to charge? There is nothing to use to charge and there could be thousands of electric bikes coming,” he says of his building’s parking lot. Stefan quickly realized that when more people adopt electric vehicles there will be an overwhelming need for charging stations that up to that point didn’t exist. Thankfully

EBOOST charging station for residential building with standard outlet.

“There must be thousands of buildings where they have shared parking areas: offices, commercial malls, residential apartments. This means thousands of bikes, right? And cars. They need to have a certified, safe, smart solution” for charging, he realized. “Hey, I'm going to do that because I saw nobody's doing it much.” Thus about four years ago, EBOOST pivoted to focusing 100% on providing certified, convenient, and trustworthy public charging stations for electric vehicles. It was a prescient calibration as access to a large and reliable charging network is currently among consumer’s greatest concerns when it comes to EV adoption.

EBOOST charging stations can accommodate all makes and models of electric vehicles.

Equipped with a problem-solving engineer’s mindset, Stefan identified the electric vehicle market’s needs and quickly shaped his business to meet them. EBOOST employs an app so that users can easily pay for and track their energy use as well as locate stations that have been installed in cooperation with commercial and residential locations that see the economic and brand value of providing them to tenants and the public at large. Predicting the future landscape, Stefan knew he had to make his chargers accessible for all vehicles so that customers could use them regardless of their vehicles’ brand or model. EBOOST also provides around-the-clock support so individuals can receive assistance if they encounter any problems.

EBOOST charging station installed for public use.

EBOOST’s business model posits a win-win situation for all stakeholders. By witnessing the proliferation of charging stations, individuals will be more aware of progress being made in the electric vehicle industry and more able to take part. Incentivized by direct and indirect value received, residential buildings, offices, schools and public spaces will assist in expanding the charging coverage. Meanwhile, EV manufacturers will be able to better satisfy and attract more customers thanks to the more complete charging solutions provided by EBOOST. And of course, the impact on the air pollution positively impacts everyone in the city.

One of the greatest concerns revolves around safety. A number of high-profile tragedies involving building fires sparked by charging electric bikes in Vietnam have led to public fears. Stefan understands that these concerns are not unique to electric vehicles and have surrounded the adoption of many new technologies from microwaves to air travel. It’s always a matter of perception as impacted by information. Therefore, one challenge is to communicate to customers that EBOOST’s stations are safe as exemplified by third-party certification according to international standards along with a variety of safety features that protect against current surges and overheating. Ultimately, EBOOST can only do so much as the most consequential element is that e-vehicle manufacturers should use and deploy high-quality batteries according to required standards to avoid risks. Furthermore, while users are protected if the chargers malfunction, they have a responsibility to correctly use and maintain their batteries. As time passes and more people have positive experiences with e-vehicles, the consensus of the industry’s safety should mature.

EBOOST representatives explaining the technology during the Powering a Sustainable Future event.

How the EV Landscape May Look in the Future

A true entrepreneur, Stefan has quantifiable goals and benchmarks as well as an endgame for his company. To date, EBOOST has expanded to over 200 charging locations across the country with more on the way. These efforts are not only helping foster the transition to green mobility in Vietnam but also contribute to avoiding a projected metric ton of carbon per year. And while he remains passionate about EBOOST’s day-to-day growth and praises his team, he fantasizes about “one day in the future, a large partner or corporate institution joining to establish the EBOOST brand for many years to come and help Vietnam in reaching its green journey goals,” he shared.

The EBOOST team.

For the electric vehicle industry to take hold in meaningful ways that will significantly impact air pollution, for example, implementation must come on a massive scale that is simply not possible for small, independent companies alone to foster. This reality holds true for the industry’s smaller components, such as charging stations. Thus, it will be a positive sign if a government entity or large corporation such as a vehicle manufacturer joins EBOOST and nurtures its further growth.

We had assumed our conversation with Stefan would involve how matters of environmental stewardship and sustainability are compelling people to switch to EV vehicles while these ethical issues are major motivators for business founders. But after more than an hour of speaking about EBOOST, from inception to exit goals, we had barely mentioned the topics. When we brought them up to Stefan he quickly remarked “That should be in the DNA of everything we do … I think that's obvious, right? We don't need to talk about climate change, waste, garbage, health … that’s proven.” Stefan is not a wide-eyed dreamer picturing scrawny polar bears on melting ice floes. Rather, the thrill of succeeding as a founder allows him to continue with what he repeatedly described as a marathon.

Cleaner skies are achievable.

Improving Saigon’s air quality will require the work of many people like Stefan toiling away as small business owners, corporate cogs, and government functionaries to address mundane logistics and infrastructure needs as well as individuals changing their travel habits by selecting EV, public transportation and bicycles. The challenges ahead may seem daunting. But from improving battery recycling methods to designing sleeker electric bikes on par with the flashiest combustion models, it's only a matter of time. And if Saigon drivers one day take deep lungfuls of fresh, clean air, it will be thanks in part to passionate innovators and dogged tinkerers thrilled by a challenge.

Plastic Waste Is Choking the Mekong River and Every Nation on Its Path

2025-01-05T11:00:00+07:00

On Son Island in Vietnam’s Mekong Delta, Le Trung Tin scatters fish feed into his ponds, where dozens of snakehead fish leap through the surface in synchronised bursts. “I taught them how to do that,” he says proudly, tossing another handful of feed at his fish.

The scene looks idyllic, but Tin’s fish farm is a reluctant response to an escalating crisis. For decades, he made his living fishing the Hau River, a distributary of the Mekong. But in recent years, plastic waste clogged his nets and strangled the fish. “I had no choice but to stop,” he says. “Everything was tangled — trash, nets, even the fish themselves. It was hopeless.”

Now, Le relies on enclosed ponds using filtered water to keep his fish alive. “I built this ecological environment free of plastic waste, chemical spills and [protected it from] extreme weather,” he says.

Video by Anton L. Delgado via Dialogue Earth.

Le’s experience reflects the wider challenges facing the Mekong. Stretching over 4,300 kilometers from the Tibetan Plateau to the East Sea, the river supports nearly 70 million people and some of the world’s most biodiverse ecosystems. Yet, it is one of the most plastic-polluted rivers in the world and among the 10 rivers in Asia that carry the vast majority of plastic to the sea. The Mekong dumps — by some estimates — tens of thousands of tonnes each year into the ocean, with plastic waste accumulating along its banks, tributaries and lakes.

Plastic enters the Mekong in myriad ways — agricultural runoff, unregulated dumping and a flood of single-use packaging from upstream countries like China and Myanmar. It accumulates in hot spots like Tonle Sap Lake in Cambodia and the wetlands of Vietnam’s Mekong Delta, where this plastic waste threatens biodiversity, food security and human health.

Plastics and other waste accumulate along the riverbank near the city of Can Tho in Vietnam’s Mekong Delta region. Photo by Anton L. Delgado via Dialogue Earth.

The unchecked proliferation of single-use plastics, combined with a lack of waste management infrastructure across the region, has resulted in widespread mismanagement of plastic waste — much of which is neither recycled, incinerated nor properly disposed in landfills. Vietnam, often ranked as the world’s fourth-largest contributor of mismanaged plastic waste, also accounts for a significant share of marine plastic debris, highlighting the country’s struggle to address the crisis effectively.

Addressing the Mekong’s plastic pollution crisis will require coordinated efforts from regional governments and transboundary organizations, however experts say a lasting solution requires a bold global agreement limiting plastic use and production, combined with enforceable regional policies.

A global crisis: Will the plastics treaty deliver?

Hopes were high as national negotiators gathered in Busan, South Korea, to finalise the Global Plastics Treaty — an ambitious UN effort aimed at tackling the global plastic pollution crisis. However, the talks were adjourned earlier this month without agreement, leaving campaigners frustrated in their push for the treaty to address both ends of the crisis: limiting plastic production and improving global waste-management systems.

On Sunday, December 1, the final day of the summit, Eirik Lindebjerg, global plastics policy lead for WWF, said governments were “no closer to agreeing on a solution to the worsening plastic crisis.”

“For too long, a small minority of states have held the negotiation process hostage. It is abundantly clear that these countries have no intention of finding a meaningful solution to this crisis,” he continued in a press release. “It is unjust that those who bear the greatest burden of plastic pollution are being denied the opportunity to forge a solution among themselves by those profiteering off the unregulated production and consumption of plastic.”

Critics also point out that previous global agreements to resolve environmental crises, such as climate change and biodiversity loss, have fallen short of their goals due to weak enforcement mechanisms and the influence of powerful industry lobbying groups.

A plastic bag full of waste floats down the Ruak River, a tributary of the Mekong on the border of Myanmar and Thailand. Nearby, a rescued elephant plays in the water. The United Nations Environment Programme warns plastic pollution could triple by 2040, threatening the biodiversity of this rich ecosystem. Photo by Anton L. Delgado via Dialogue Earth.

Plastic production has doubled over the past 20 years, with over 400 million tons produced annually. Single-use plastics, which make up half of this total, are particularly problematic, accounting for a significant portion of the waste clogging rivers like the Mekong. While technological solutions like recycling and waste-to-energy plants are often advocated by industry, their impact pales in comparison to the scale of production.

The United Nations Environment Programme (UNEP) has warned that plastic pollution could triple by 2040 without drastic action.

“The price for inaction is far greater than wasted time, it puts both planetary and human health on the line and sets us up for a scenario where ambition could diminish over time,” says Erin Simon, vice president and head of plastic waste and business with WWF. “We can’t back down on delivering a legally binding text that finally puts us on a course to eliminate plastic pollution,” he added.

Local fisher Boonrat Chaikeaw catches a net full of trash as he plies the Mekong’s waters by Chiang Khong on the border of Thailand and Laos. Photo by Anton L. Delgado via Dialogue Earth.

Every day after fishing, Boonrat has to carefully untangle plastic waste from his nets before he can return to the river. Photo by Anton L. Delgado via Dialogue Earth.

We visited four plastic-waste hot spots along the lower reaches of the Mekong — Chiang Saen in Thailand, Phnom Penh and Tonle Sap Lake in Cambodia and Vietnam’s Mekong Delta. These sites showcase the problems the plastics treaty needs to address: waste from newly produced plastic, the damaging impact of plastic waste on local people and the transnational nature of the problem.

Chiang Saen, Thailand: Where the Mekong’s plastic problem peaks

In northern Thailand, the Mekong flows past Chiang Saen near the Golden Triangle, where Thailand, Myanmar and Laos converge. Here, plastic waste collects in growing heaps along the riverbanks. The debris — food wrappers, plastic bottles and fishing nets — has floated downstream from upstream countries like China and Myanmar, clogging tributaries like the Ruak River.

“Sometimes it feels like the waste never ends,” says Poonyawee Srisantear, who manages a local elephant camp. Mahouts (elephant keepers) at the camp regularly collect rubbish from the riverbanks to protect their elephants. “The smell of food clings to the plastic and elephants often mistake it for something to eat,” she explains. “When they swallow it, it can be life-threatening to them.”

Video by Anton L. Delgado via Dialogue Earth.

Although plastic waste is visible along the Mekong’s banks, quantitative information remains scarce. In recent years, international organizations have tried to quantify the scale of the problem.

Thailand, like many Mekong countries, also struggles with inadequate waste management systems, which exacerbate the problem. Over 150 plastic-waste hot spots have been identified across the country. A 2023 study detected close to 1,000 official and unofficial waste sites across Southeast Asia, nearly a fifth of which were located within 200m of a waterway. Almost half of these were in the five Mekong nations of Myanmar, Cambodia, Laos, Thailand and Vietnam.

A volunteer douses a burning pile of rubbish at an unofficial dump site next to the Tonle Sap River in Cambodia. The lack of proper waste management exacerbates the problem of plastic pollution in most Mekong countries. Photo by Anton L. Delgado via Dialogue Earth.

Chiang Saen is also the site of one of the Mekong River Commission’s (MRC) upcoming video monitoring stations, part of a broader initiative to track plastic flows across the basin. The MRC serves as an intergovernmental advisory body and the video monitoring system dovetails with its new protocols for riverine microplastic monitoring; the first guidelines standardizing water health monitoring across the lower Mekong basin.

“We need more [and better] data to drive policy change,” says Phan Nam Long, a water quality officer with the MRC. “Without information on the scale of the problem, we cannot create effective solutions.”

Critics, however, argue that such monitoring efforts fall short of addressing the underlying problem, in part due to the MRC’s limited advisory role to the region’s governments.

“It is fine for the MRC to monitor. Yes, the more information, the better. But that can’t be the only thing the MRC or the Mekong nations do,” says Niwat Roykaew, also known as Kru Thi [teacher in Thai], an environmental activist, who founded the Mekong School. “We can see how the garbage impacts the river. We can see how the garbage impacts those dependent on the river. That is enough information for us to begin to act.”

Thai environmentalist Niwat Roykaew, also known as Kru Thi (teacher in Thai), sits in front of a banner at the entrance to the Mekong School, an educational and knowledge-sharing initiative, which monitors development in the Mekong River Basin. The sign reads: “The Mekong is our life” in English and Thai. Photo by Anton L. Delgado via Dialogue Earth.

Niwat wants to see a basin-wide accountability framework to tackle plastic pollution. But with no agreement from the UN in Busan, he questions whether the Mekong region will be able to overcome its own divisions to establish a unified approach.

“All the countries that share the Mekong River must share the responsibility,” he says. “Plastic is choking the river and the consequences affect us all — from the fish we eat to the water we drink.”

Recent studies conducted along the riverside near Niwat’s school underline his point.

“We’re addicted to plastics, now more than ever,” says Panate Manomaivibool, an assistant professor at Thailand’s Burapha University. Over the course of a year, ending in July 2022, his team collected 2,650 large waste samples from the waters around the Golden Triangle. He adds: “Compared to the scale of the problem, attempts to fix it are tiny.”

Panate’s research determined that 91% of the waste was plastic, with labels indicating around 30% originated in Myanmar and nearly 20% in China, underscoring the transboundary nature of the challenge. “Plastic pollution has already contaminated our food chain and all life in the Mekong,” he warns.

Panate says he tries “to be optimistic that we are not yet at the irreversible turning point”, but fears the region’s addiction to plastic will be hard to break.

“We are the first generation facing this problem on this scale. Our ancestors, even our parents, were never exposed to this level of plastic pollution,” he says. “Without an alternative, our countries will always choose to use the cheapest, easiest option. For now, that remains plastic.”

The confluence of the Ruak and Mekong rivers marks the point where Myanmar, Laos and Thailand meet, an area known as the Golden Triangle. Over 4,300 km in length, the Mekong passes through or marks the borders of six countries. Photo by Anton L. Delgado via Dialogue Earth.

Thai academic Panate Manomaivibool’s research has shown that over 90% of the waste samples his team collected from the Golden Triangle is plastic. Labels indicate 30% originated from Myanmar and 20% from as far away as China. Photo by Anton L. Delgado via Dialogue Earth.

The Thai government has taken action by announcing a ban on plastic waste imports from 2025, a move inspired by China’s 2018 restrictions, which redirected foreign waste to countries such as Vietnam, Malaysia and Thailand itself. Yet domestic plastic consumption continues to rise.

“The more people there are, the more the city develops, the economy grows and the use of plastic increases,” says Saksan Chuamuangpan, director of Chiang Saen’s Public Health Department.

Waste production in the district has skyrocketed from two tons per day two decades ago to 15 tons today, he says, and warns a joint effort is needed.

Tonle Sap Lake: Cambodia’s beating heart

In Cambodia, Tonle Sap Lake — a vital freshwater fishery for Southeast Asia — is increasingly choked by plastic waste. Each monsoon season, the Tonle Sap River reverses flow, carrying waste upstream into the lake. This cycle has made the survival of the lake’s ecosystems ever more uncertain.

Cambodia’s minister of environment Eang Sophalleth talks to the press about his anti-plastics campaign at a conference earlier this year. Photo by Anton L. Delgado via Dialogue Earth.

Since assuming the role of Cambodia’s environment minister last year, Eang Sophalleth has made addressing plastic pollution a priority. As part of a national anti-plastics campaign he has called on half of Cambodia’s 17 million inhabitants to reduce their use of plastics.

“Plastic is our number one enemy,” he said at the September launch of the campaign.

Cambodia also joined the Global Plastic Action Partnership last year and signed an agreement with Laos to tackle cross-border plastic pollution. But the focus has been on changing public perception and plastic habits, with little mention of plastic manufacturers or waste management improvements. Eang says only when plastic reduction targets are met, will a major clean-up of Tonle Sap Lake, the nation’s main source of protein, take place. “There’s no point in cleaning if we’re throwing away more than we clean up,” he said.

As it stands, though, much of the plastic continues to accumulate in fishing nets and along the shorelines, with little evidence of progress on waste reduction.

The fishing village of Kampong Phluk on the banks of Tonle Sap Lake, a vital source of protein for Cambodia. Every monsoon season, the Tonle Sap River reverses its flow, bringing waste from the Mekong upstream and dumping it in the lake. Photo by Anton L. Delgado via Dialogue Earth.

The propeller of a fishing boat on Tonle Sap Lake, jammed by a plastic bag. Fishers on the lake, and elsewhere along the Mekong, face a daily struggle with plastic waste, which breaks their motors and clogs up their nets. Photo by Anton L. Delgado via Dialogue Earth.

In Kampong Phluk, a fishing village on Tonle Sap Lake, plastic waste disrupts daily life for local communities. Sophal Sea, director of the NGO Bambooshoot, says the debris is damaging livelihoods. “The nets get tangled, motors break down and fish stocks are declining,” he says.

Welcoming the government’s apparent focus on plastic, he adds: “This is the first time I’ve heard government leaders promise that kind of support.” However, he stressed the need for political support and regulations to address the systemic issues fuelling the crisis and to wean Cambodia off what he described as its “trash culture”.

Plastic disposal options are scarce in villages surrounding the lake, leading residents to dump waste directly into the water.

“Most people don’t know how to dispose of their waste properly. They just throw it everywhere,” says Srey Toch, a litter picker with River Ocean Cleanup who has joined Sophal and a group of volunteers to collect rubbish at the confluence of the Tonle Sap and Mekong rivers.

Video by Anton L. Delgado via Dialogue Earth.

Srey Toch’s observations are corroborated by Sovann Nou, River Ocean Cleanup’s executive director, who attributes the problem to inadequate household and industrial waste management, combined with limited awareness amongst the public regarding the impact plastic waste has.

Walking along the riverbank, he stops to hold up some of the debris: plastic tarps, bottles and tires. At one point he pauses to pick up a dead turtle lying among the waste — its death a stark reminder of the toll plastic pollution takes on wildlife.

As the Mekong flows south past Phnom Penh toward Vietnam, Eang expressed hope that other upstream nations will follow Cambodia’s lead in beginning to take steps to tackle plastic pollution. “If we clean up plastics, downstream communities like Vietnam will be grateful. We’ll all benefit,” he said.

Sovann Nou, River Ocean Cleanup’s founder, holds up a turtle discovered among the plastic waste during their litter pick. Photo by Anton L. Delgado via Dialogue Earth.

Can Tho: Where the Mekong meets the sea

In Vietnam’s Mekong Delta, the river fans out into a vast network of tributaries and wetlands supporting millions of people through farming and fishing. Known as Vietnam’s “rice bowl,” this fertile region is also heavily impacted by plastic pollution, with much of the waste from upstream deposited in its waterways and rice fields.

By the time the Mekong reaches Vietnam’s Delta, the river carries the accumulated waste of its 4,300km journey.

“Most inland waste reaches the river through canals, especially during annual flooding,” says Nguyen Xuan Hoang, a researcher from Can Tho University’s College of Environment and Natural Resources. “Most of this plastic isn’t from Vietnam, but as the basin’s lowest point, we suffer the most.”

Aquaculture farmer Le Trung Tin’s snakehead fish jump into the air to catch feed. Le gave up fishing on the Mekong Delta’s Hau River several years ago due to increasing levels of pollution. Photo by Anton L. Delgado via Dialogue Earth.

Back on Son Island, on the Hau River, Le has experienced this suffering firsthand, but switching to fish farming in enclosed ponds appears to have paid off. He notes a reduction in fish deaths, combined with an increase in profits compared to his previous ventures in the plastic-choked waters of the river.

“Living in harmony with nature is essential for fish farming, but it’s becoming harder in the delta,” he adds, acknowledging the additional effort required to shield his livelihood from the worsening environmental challenges.

For farmers like Trung Tin, in nearby Thoi Lai District, the pollution is impossible to ignore. Due to a lack of plastic waste disposal options, farmers often leave fertilizer and pesticide bottles in fields, fearing the release of toxins if they burn them. Rain washes these bottles and residues into the canals, polluting the delta’s waterways.

Rice farmer Trung Tin picks up plastic waste from his paddy field in Vietnam’s Mekong Delta. Lacking waste disposal infrastructure, he says farmers often have no choice but to leave used fertilizer and pesticide bottles — like the one he is carrying — in their fields. Photo by Anton L. Delgado via Dialogue Earth.

According to Trung, who has farmed rice for over 20 years, “the climate now is not easy.” “The soil has less nutrition, and we must protect crops, even if it means using more chemicals.” Seeing discarded bottles in the river, he adds: “It’s scary to think about what’s in the fish we eat.”

Cong Thuan Nguyen, another researcher at Can Tho University, confirmed that agricultural waste from rice farms is a significant source of pollution. “We’re still trying to understand the full scale. The more we learn, the more the problem grows,” he shares.

Can Tho University’s Cong Thuan Nguyen and Nguyen Xuan Hoang say they’re still trying to understand the full scale of the plastics problem in the Mekong Delta. “The more we learn, the more the problem grows,” says Cong. Photo by Anton L. Delgado via Dialogue Earth.

In 2019, the Vietnamese government appeared to take steps to combat the plastic crisis, by announcing a ban on plastic waste imports starting in 2025. In 2022, it implemented the Extended Producer Responsibility policy, requiring companies to manage the recycling of their products and packaging to reduce waste and promote sustainability.

Despite these commitments, the country was the world’s fourth largest importer of plastic waste in 2022, adding to its waste management struggles. A significant proportion — up to 30% — of this imported plastic leaks into rivers and waterways, including the Mekong Delta, often carried by runoff or untreated wastewater.

As the 2025 deadline for plastic waste imports approaches, Vietnam’s ability to enforce the ban and transition to alternative recycling or disposal systems will be critical to reducing the plastic burden on the Mekong Delta and safeguarding the livelihoods it sustains. Among these challenges is the need for greater clarity from Vietnam, whose stance on INC-5 appears to straddle both national economic interests, particularly in the plastics industry, and broader commitments to addressing global plastic pollution. Moving forward, Vietnam will need to prioritise one over the other to demonstrate its commitment to tangible action.

Thailand, meanwhile, has expressed support for a legally binding international agreement to reduce plastic waste and mitigate its environmental and health impacts. However, its heavy reliance on single-use plastics and limited progress in addressing domestic waste management challenges raise questions about how effectively these commitments will be implemented. Similarly, while Cambodia has emphasized the importance of effective implementation mechanisms, including the establishment of national committees under Article 8 of the treaty, its capacity to deliver on these objectives remains uncertain. The country’s reliance on international collaboration, capacity-building and technical assistance underscores gaps in its existing infrastructure to tackle plastic pollution independently.

A piece of polystyrene stamped with the word “Mekong” caught in water hyacinth along the banks of a stream in Vietnam’s delta region. Photo by Anton L. Delgado via Dialogue Earth.

Meanwhile, grassroots efforts are working to clean the Mekong Delta despite overwhelming odds. Waste-collecting boats regularly navigate canals to remove debris and NGOs run educational campaigns to reduce dependency on single-use plastic.

The Mekong’s plastic crisis is not just a regional issue; it is emblematic of a global failure to manage waste sustainably. As the river carries tens of thousands of tonnes of plastic waste into the East Sea each year, its plight underscores the urgency of solutions at every level — local, regional and global.

“We have not yet reached the summit of our efforts,” INC chair Luis Vayas said on Sunday, at the end of seven days of negotiation that concluded without consensus. The meeting was adjourned, with plans to reconvene next year, leaving questions about how soon tangible actions might address pressing issues like plastic pollution in the Mekong Delta.

Without intervention, the Mekong will continue offloading plastic into the East Sea. From the first signs of plastic pollution in the Golden Triangle to the plastic-clogged canals of the delta, the river’s journey highlights the urgent need for coordinated, cross-border action to protect both the river and the millions who depend on it.

Additional reporting by Ladawan Sondak in Thailand and Nguyen Hao Thanh Thao in Vietnam.

This article was originally published on Dialogue Earth and was republished with permission. Visit the original article here.

WWF-Viet Nam’s “Elements of the Mekong Delta” Networking Dinner Shines a Light on Climate-Resilient Products

2024-12-13T12:45:00+07:00

As part of a project aimed at empowering communities in the Mekong Delta that are facing serious threats from climate change, WWF-Viet Nam assists local households in raising plants that are more resilient than typical monoculture crops and animals in ways that are less detrimental to the environment. To help amplify the voices of farmers and communities embracing sustainable farming practices and create awareness about the nature-based solutions (NbS) products such as rice, shrimps, crabs, lotus seeds, and freshwater prawns that they raise and grow, WWF-Viet Nam recently held a networking dinner at Mùa Craft Saké.

In the Mekong Delta, mangroves, freshwater swamps, rivers, and a range of tropical and subtropical forests teem with unique birds, fish, insects, reptiles, and amphibians. Vast rice fields, lush gardens, and fertile waters for raising plants and animals allow it to support culturally diverse communities known for their laid-back hospitality.

Covering over 40,000 sq. km in southwestern Vietnam, the Mekong Delta is an essential environmental and agricultural region. Unfortunately, it is facing serious threats from climate change, water extraction, habitat conversion and degradation, and sand mining combined with rising seawater and salt intrusion are among the many issues expected to get worse in the coming decades.

To support the country’s response to this urgent and massive challenge, WWF-Viet Nam has piloted several NbS projects in the Mekong Delta, which have improved the socio-economic situation and resilience of local communities through sustainable livelihoods while protecting and restoring critical ecosystems. Pilot models include raising floating rice with fish; mangrove with shrimp; lotus with fish; and rice with shrimp. Each supports farmers to raise, grow, and process agriculture and aquaculture products in ways that are less detrimental to the environment and also more sustainable in uncertain climatic conditions.

The event, Elements of the Mekong Delta, took place on 23 November 2024, to help showcase the diverse range of NbS products through culinary creativity from Mùa Craft Saké’s head chef Trụ Lang, in partnership with Nguyễn Thị Phương Uyên, head chef of Nam Mê Kitchen & Bar, both of whom specialize in utilizing local ingredients in their menus.

For the networking dinner, the chefs designed a menu based on the concept “Ăn Cơm” (eating together) with six dishes and drinks highlighting NbS ingredients.

Starting off with the Mekong nipa palm salad made with nipa palm, and vegetables centered around black tiger shrimp from the project in Cà Mau Province (gỏi dừa nước nam bộ - dừa nước, rau củ, tôm sú).

This was served alongside crab and lotus spring rolls using crab meat also sourced from Cà Mau, lotus seed, pork (chả giò cua hạt sen - thịt cua, hạt sen, thịt heo).

The menu not only represented a traditional Mekong Delta meal, but also one of WWF-Viet Nam’s mixed rice-shrimp aquaculture models in Cà Mau, Bạc Liêu, and Kiên Giang, where the ponds produce rice and freshwater prawns in rainy seasons and raise brackish-water shrimps and crabs in dry seasons and periods of saltwater intrusion.

Products from this model also appeared in the following offerings of stir-fried lotus root, wild crab paste, salted egg sauce, and herbs (ngó sen xào tỏi - ngó sen, sốt riêu cua, sốt trứng muối gạch cua, rau thơm) and braised giant freshwater prawn, fresh coconut juice (tôm càng xanh rim nước dừa - tôm càng xanh, nước dừa tươi).

One ingredient was particularly prominent due to its importance as one of the central products in the NbS portfolio - floating rice (gạo lúa mùa nổi) from the CRxN Mekong project in Long An Province, which can be made into milk or eaten regularly. Cultivated without pesticides or chemicals, this strain of rice was reintroduced into the province in 2020 after having mostly disappeared in the 1970s. Unlike other strains, floating rice can grow in deep water thanks to a stem that lengthens to follow rising water upwards. While submerged, it's protected from pests. This means it can be grown in sync with natural water cycles and without damaging chemicals or destructive flooding control. Critically, this also translates to benefits for farmers who reduce their input costs by not having to use fertilizer and have potential increased income generation opportunities from more sustainable practices.

The dinner attracted representatives from prestigious organizations, including the Australian Government in Bangkok and Hồ Chí Minh City, the Australian Chamber of Commerce in Vietnam, global companies as well as local enterprises. By fostering connections between communities, businesses, consumers and investors, WWF-Viet Nam hopes to build awareness about the potential of sustainable produce and demonstrate the business case for nature-based solutions and products. This can further help incentivize communities to adopt practices that support floodplain restoration that reap benefits for people and nature. It also provides a powerful example of how sustainable change is possible and delicious.

Climate Resilient by Nature (CRxN) is an Australian Government initiative in collaboration with WWF-Australia, designed to promote high-integrity and equitable nature-based solutions to address climate change in the Indo-Pacific. The CRxN Mekong - Viet Nam project is supported through funding from the Mekong Australia Partnership – Water, Energy, and Climate.

Learn more at climateresilientbynature.com.