The Lasting Legacy of the Salvadoran Civil War on Environment and Health

As the Youth Director for the Planetary Health North America Regional Hub and a two‑term Planetary Health Campus Ambassador at the Planetary Health Alliance, I’ve developed a deep interest in how environmental degradation impacts human health, particularly in contexts of conflict and marginalization. Although the field of Planetary Health was formally articulated in 2015 (Rockefeller‑Lancet Commission), its principles have long been evident in the lives of people whose health is inextricably tied to the ecosystems around them.

In February 2024, I had the privilege of spending ten days in the Central American country of El Salvador as part of a university field course that immediately captured my attention due to its focus on the intersections of environment, history, and justice. I had first learned about the course while looking for opportunities to study-abroad, and its emphasis on community-based learning and post-conflict recovery resonated deeply with my interests in Planetary Health. During the course, we explored the country’s ongoing environmental crisis and the enduring legacy of the Salvadoran Civil War (1979–1992). We examined the current state of pollution, deforestation, and agrochemical use, while drawing connections between the war and contemporary environmental movements. Much like other social and ecological vulnerabilities, El Salvador’s current environmental fragility is deeply rooted in the trauma and destruction of its civil war.

This course inspired me to join Surviving Memory in Post‑War El Salvador, a collaborative project which is supported in part by the Social Sciences and Humanities Research Council of Canada, the Canadian Foundation for Innovation, and the Ontario Research Fund, Western University. My current role involves digitizing an extensive archive of documents collected before, during, and after the civil war. These materials – ranging from newspaper clippings and religious pamphlets to solidarity campaigns – reflect the lived experiences, resistance, and recovery of Salvadorans across generations. 

While scanning archival documents, I came across an article titled Saving the Earth in the Midst of War, published in December 1991, just a year before the official end of the civil war.  

The piece highlights how environmental destruction, often sidelined during conflict, has devastating health consequences. One quotation from Dr. Ricardo Navarro, director of the The Salvadoran Center for Appropriate Technology (CESTA), stood out to me: “When we talk about the ecology, we’re talking about the conditions that make life possible.” 

That line inspired me to reach out to Navarro to learn more about his environmental advocacy. Navarro told me that when he and his colleagues founded CESTA nearly five decades ago, “we were seeing rivers being polluted, forests being destroyed, and a lack of care for the environment” He described how early efforts focused on denouncing harm by industries and governments while proposing practical alternatives: promoting bicycles, composting organic waste, recycling, and protecting forests. “Forests help retain water, give us food and medicine,” he said, tying ecological integrity to human health and well‑being. 

Navarro’s insight that environmental collapse fuels social instability remains painfully relevant. The roots of El Salvador’s environmental destruction stretch back to the period between 1960 and 1980, when agricultural modernization–driven by export‑oriented production and the displacement of subsistence farmers–pushed an aggressive deforestation frontier [3]. These developments laid the groundwork for further ecological devastation during the war. The conflict itself was a brutal struggle between the U.S.‑backed Salvadoran government and the insurgent Farabundo Martí National Liberation Front (FMLN). With over 75,000 people killed and nearly 1 million civilians displaced from a population of only 5 million, the war left deep physical and psychological scars (10.1093/ahr/120.5.1784) [1]. 

Among the most destructive tactics employed during the war was the scorched‑earth strategy–an ecocidal approach involving widespread aerial bombardments using napalm and white phosphorus to incinerate forests and campesino farmlands (10.1080/10714839.2024.2356316) [4]. “When you bomb, you destroy the forest,” Navarro said. “Forests are used for people to hide. When you destroy the forest, people are more vulnerable.” Ecological destruction wasn’t incidental; it was instrumentalized to break communities’ capacity to survive. 

This violence still reverberates through El Salvador’s hydrology and public health. Navarro explained that upstream deforestation has reduced groundwater infiltration, despite an average of ~1.8 meters of rainfall each year. “After the rainy season, a lot of people are complaining they cannot get water in their homes because water doesn’t have time to enter the soil,” he said.  

Navarro also recalled a tragic flood during heavy rains, when a normally small river swelled and swept away a bus, killing 32 people [https://www.bbc.com/news/world-latin-america-15331290] [2] – an extreme event made deadlier by altered watersheds. Pollution further compounds scarcity: small creeks that were once drinkable are now contaminated by upstream industries. “Environmental degradation has a big impact on the health of the people,” he emphasized, pointing to respiratory illnesses from air pollution and waterborne diseases linked to contamination. 

Planetary Health demands attention to inequality. Navarro argued that both extreme poverty and extreme wealth are damaging: the former forces people into vulnerable places and precarious livelihoods; the latter drives overconsumption and resource extraction. “Poor people who are not responsible for generating climate change are the ones that suffer the impacts first,” he said. The distribution of harm–by class, geography, and power–determines who breathes polluted air, who loses crops to droughts and floods, and who lacks safe water. 

Nevertheless, there are stories of restoration. In a region heavily bombed during the war, CESTA helped establish the Forest of Reconciliation, planting one tree for every person who died during the Salvadoran Civil War (>65,000). “We should remember–in their memory–to do something positive for the environment,” Navarro explained. The forest remains as living testimony to how ecological repair can carry social meaning, preserving memory while restoring habitat. 

From bicycles to compost, CESTA’s work focuses on practical, community-driven transformations. Early projects trained local residents–particularly women and people with disabilities–to assemble and repair bicycles, leading to the creation of more than fifty community‑owned workshops. Today, CESTA continues this legacy by bringing high‑quality used bikes from Canada and the United States to El Salvador, making mobility more accessible and affordable. In an innovative twist, bicycles are even exchanged for radio airtime to promote environmental awareness and advocacy. 

Navarro worries that global economic systems continue to reward overconsumption and fossil fuel dependence, shifting the burden of waste onto poorer regions. Cities may appear clean “at the expense of other countries,” as waste and hazardous materials are exported abroad. Ultimately, peace with the environment, he argues, requires rethinking growth and learning to live within planetary boundaries. “We should learn to live in harmony with the environment,” he said. “When we damage the environment, we are damaging us.” 

El Salvador’s history reminds us that Planetary Health is not just a matter of environmental science or medicine; it is a story of survival and justice.

In El Salvador, as in many parts of the world, environmental damage is not an accidental byproduct of conflict but a deliberate weapon. And long after the fighting ends, its consequences remain in the soil, the air, the rivers, and the health of the people who call those landscapes home. Integrating the voices of Salvadoran environmental leaders like Ricardo Navarro grounds these ideas in lived experience, linking memory to action and restoration to health. 

References 

[1] Chávez, Joaquín M. “How Did the Civil War in El Salvador End?” The American Historical Review 120, no. 5: 1784–97, December, 2015.  

[2] “Central America Floods and Landslides ‘Leave 80 Dead.’” BBC News, October 17, 2011. https://www.bbc.com/news/world-latin-america-15331290. 

[3] Hecht, Susanna B., Susan Kandel, Ileana Gomes, Nelson Cuellar, and Herman Rosa. “Globalization, Forest Resurgence, and Environmental Politics in El Salvador.” World Development 34, no. 2: 308–23, February, 2006.  

[4] Meszaros Martin, Hannah. “Blind Spots in the Archive of Ecocidal War.” NACLA Report on the Americas 56, no. 2: 205–13, April 2, 2024. 

About the Author 

Amaan Thawer is an undergraduate Geology student at Western University with a strong background in youth engagement, environmental communication, and Earth systems science research. He has served as a Campus Ambassador for the Planetary Health Alliance, where he contributed to storytelling on environmental injustice. As a Council Member of the North America Regional Hub, Amaan supports collaborative initiatives that advance the integration of human health and environmental sustainability across disciplines and sectors.

Alongside Yvonne Mongare, he is thrilled to serve as a Youth Director for the Planetary Health North America Regional Hub, working to lead and empower youth-driven Planetary Health initiatives. Amaan also serves on the Next Generation Youth Council, where he amplifies youth voices and creates opportunities to share lived experiences in Planetary Health.