Müge Okur
Summer used to be the season of childhood, holidays and sunshine. Now, however, in many parts of the world, the first images that spring to mind when one thinks of summer are grey clouds of smoke blanketing the horizon, orange flames turning night into day, and ash raining down from the sky.
Describing forest fires as a ‘natural disaster’ now captures only part of the truth. For the situation we are facing today is a global crisis resulting from a combination of climate change, prolonged drought, inappropriate land use, negligence and human activity. Each year, hotter summers, drier forests and stronger winds turn even the smallest spark into a massive disaster.
The year 2025 was one of the most striking examples of this. Worldwide, an area of approximately 335 million hectares was affected by fires. This figure alone can be misleading. For what matters is not merely the size of the area burnt, but the fact that wildfires are now targeting areas where people live, agricultural land and ecosystems critical for biodiversity. According to insurance companies’ calculations, the economic damage caused by wildfires in 2025 alone reached one of the highest levels in history.
Europe has experienced one of the most severe fire seasons in recent years. Approximately 1 million hectares have been reduced to ashes. Fires lasting for weeks in Spain, Portugal, France, Italy, Greece and the Balkan countries led to the evacuation of thousands of people. Some villages were completely evacuated; hundreds of homes, businesses and farms were rendered unusable.
Canada lost millions of hectares of forest. The smoke rising from the fires did not remain within the country’s borders; it travelled thousands of kilometres, reaching the east coast of the United States and even the skies over Europe. Air quality in many cities dropped to levels posing a threat to health.
Asia was no exception. Whilst South Korea experienced one of the deadliest fire seasons in its history, vast forested areas in Japan and eastern Russia were damaged. In South America, fires breaking out in various regions of the Amazon Basin destroyed not only trees but also weakened one of the world’s largest carbon sinks.
Even before 2026 had come to a close, alarm bells began ringing once more in many countries. The European Union increased the number of fire-fighting aircraft in its fleet before the fire season began and deployed thousands of firefighters under a joint response system. These preparations alone are enough to illustrate the scale of the danger. Fires are no longer seen as unexpected events, but as crises that are almost certain to occur every summer.
However, there is one reality that all these statistics fail to convey.
The burning of one hectare of forest does not merely mean the loss of a certain number of trees.
Hundreds of insects live within the trunk of a single tree. Birds build their nests in its branches. Squirrels, reptiles and small mammals find shelter in its hollows. Around its roots, fungi and millions of microorganisms keep the soil alive. When a tree burns, it is not just the tree itself that turns to ash; an invisible web of life is also shattered.
Scientists state that in major fires, billions of insects, millions of small mammals, and countless birds, reptiles and amphibians lose their lives. It is almost impossible to give exact figures, as much of wildlife remains unrecorded. But one thing is certain: some species never recover their former population levels after losing their habitats. It is not only animals that bear the brunt of wildfires.
Forest villagers lose their livelihoods.
Farmers can lose the olive groves, vineyards and orchards they have toiled over for years in a single afternoon’s fire. Beekeepers are unable to save their hives. Families involved in livestock farming lose their pastures. Thousands of people working in tourist areas spend the season unemployed. Fire smoke fills children’s lungs and exacerbates the illnesses of the elderly.
Another silent loss is our cultural heritage.
Communities that have lived in the same forest for centuries are losing not only their homes but also their memories. The plane tree under whose shade a grandfather sat as a child, the olive grove tended by a family from generation to generation, or the red pine forest surrounding the village do not merely hold economic value. They are also part of people’s identity.
Climate change and forest fires form a self-perpetuating cycle. As the atmosphere warms, forests dry out. Dry forests burn more easily. Burning forests release millions of tonnes of carbon into the atmosphere. The atmosphere warms further. Then new fires break out.
Breaking this cycle is not simply a matter of acquiring more fire-fighting aircraft.
We must halt unplanned development around forests, build fire-resilient towns, improve early-warning systems, regularly inspect power lines within forests, and promote controlled burning practices in agricultural areas; but above all, we must stop viewing the climate crisis as solely an issue for environmentalists.
As Turkey lies within the Mediterranean climate zone, it finds itself right at the heart of this global picture. Longer heatwaves, reduced rainfall and drought are increasing the risk of wildfires year on year. Moreover, it is not just forests that are burning. Water resources are being damaged, erosion is increasing, agricultural production is being affected and rural life is becoming increasingly vulnerable.
Today, the flames rising across different continents of the world are telling us the same truth:
Nature is presenting us with the bill for the damage done to it, albeit with a delay.
We are not paying that price merely with the trees that burn. We are paying with our clean air, the water we drink, the species we lose, and our future.
Perhaps it is no longer enough to hear only the phrase ‘how many hectares of forest have burnt’ on the news. Because within a single hectare lie thousands of living creatures, a centuries-old ecological balance, and a shared heritage that must be passed on to future generations.