The meandering ribbon of the Bug River passes through Poland, Ukraine, and Belarus, following stretches of one of the most controlled borders of Europe. The river, known for its unique ecosystem, is the site of growing political tension and a worsening humanitarian crisis. Once a symbol of coexistence between nature and human civilisation, the Bug is now a political battlefield, flanked by heavy barriers and fallen trees.
The Bug River forms a natural border between Poland and parts of northwestern Ukraine and southern Belarus. It is a lifeline for ecosystems, but is now caught in the crossfire of politics and security. In a bid to strengthen its eastern frontier, in September 2024, Poland started work on a 172 km-long electronic surveillance barrier near the border with Belarus that follows the course of the river. While the barrier is framed as a matter of national security, its construction has led to large-scale deforestation. Surveillance poles equipped with motion sensors and cameras now dot the landscape. Once a seamless ecological corridor, the banks of the Bug River now mark a dividing line.
The 2021 migration crisis deepened the rift between Belarus and Poland, effectively ending their joint environmental efforts. Since Russia’s full-scale invasion of Ukraine and Belarus’s role as a co-aggressor, any remaining cooperation on ecological protection along the Bug River has ground to a halt.
The result? A stark rise in deforestation, pollution, and disruption of animal migration routes. The increasing militarisation of the border leaves scars on the landscape that may be difficult – or even impossible – to heal. Without renewed dialogue and cross-border conservation initiatives, the Bug’s fragile biodiversity could soon be irreparably damaged.
A lifeline of Eastern Europe
Stretching almost 800 kilometres across Ukraine, Belarus, and Poland, the Bug River is one of Eastern Europe’s most significant transboundary waterways. It originates in western Ukraine, near the village of Verkhobuzh in the Podolian Upland, and winds through the lowlands of Brest and the Pribugh Plain. In Poland, it joins the Narew River and eventually feeds into the Vistula, whose waters reach the Baltic Sea.

The river’s course is geopolitically meaningful: nearly half its length runs through Poland, while about 20 per cent flows through Belarus. Ukraine accounts for over a quarter of the river’s drainage basin. But beyond geography, the Bug holds a more profound historical significance – it has served as a political boundary for more than half a century.
After World War II, the Bug River became part of Poland’s eastern border, separating it from the Ukrainian and Belarusian Soviet republics. Today, it marks not only national borders but also the frontiers of the European Union and the Schengen Area.
When the Belarusian government began weaponising migration in response to EU sanctions, Poland declared a state of emergency in its border regions.
Ecologically, the Bug is one of Europe’s last remaining wild rivers – a rare, unregulated waterway that still flows in a largely natural state. It forms a vital ecological corridor, supporting a rich mosaic of habitats for fish, birds, amphibians, and aquatic plants. Its largely untouched banks provide critical resources for local communities and serve as natural filters, purifying water and maintaining regional biodiversity. The Bug River Valley encompasses several protected areas, including Natura 2000 sites, highlighting its natural importance.
However, the lack of cross-border cooperation on environmental protection between Poland and Belarus and increasing border militarisation has led to logging, pollution, and the disruption of animal migration patterns.
Threats of border militarisation
Over the years, activity along the border has left a mark on the local ecosystem. While the level of patrol and surveillance has fluctuated with the political climate, at times easing to allow for cross-border cooperation, including on ecological initiatives, the past four years have seen a steady worsening in conditions. The rate of environmental damage has escalated since 2021, while the humanitarian crisis has deepened.
When the Belarusian government began weaponising migration in response to EU sanctions, directing people from countries in the Middle East, Asia, and Africa towards the EU with false promises of easy access, Poland declared a state of emergency in its border regions.
That same year, a barbed wire barrier was installed along the border, including across the riverbanks. The impact was immediate and devastating: many animals became fatally entangled in the concertina wire while migrating or seeking water. The injuries were often gruesome; deep lacerations caused immense suffering. Although the wire began to be dismantled in late 2024, its environmental cost remains, with leftover fragments continuing to harm wildlife.
Now, a new phase of border surveillance infrastructure building is underway. Plans include the installation of approximately 1,800 camera poles, 4,500 day-night and thermal cameras, and various sensors to detect physical movement. The project also involves laying 200 kilometres of power and data transmission cables and constructing the foundations for around ten telecommunication containers. Thousands of trees have been felled along a 15-meter-wide strip on the Polish side of the river, including in the ecologically valuable Podlasie Switzerland reserve, to make space.
Poland’s border protection laws exempt such projects from environmental assessments. Although contractors are meant to consult Regional Environmental Protection Directorates, deforestation has already extended into sensitive natural areas, destroying habitats vital to many bird species.
Professor Maciej Karpowicz, a hydrobiologist at the University of Białystok, emphasises that large-scale logging along the river can increase the risk of hydrological droughts, cause bank erosion, and destabilise the riverbed. Without trees to act as natural barriers, pollution levels in the Bug’s waters might rise, degrading water quality. Poland has among the fewest renewable freshwater resources in Europe. Water scarcity is a growing problem this year: the beginning of 2025 was exceptionally dry, with minimal snowfall in the mountains and critically low river levels. As of April, the outlook remains bleak: Poland’s National Geological Institute highlights low water conditions across 12 of the 16 voivodeships.
Maciej Cmoch, ornithologist and author of a book on the Bug, notes that riparian forests are being lost due to logging next to the river. “Fortunately, the cut strip is relatively narrow but includes trees and shrubs growing beside the river,” Cmoch warns. “These are valuable habitats for many birds that now face loss of breeding, resting and lurking sites.”

The situation causes suffering for other species. Izabela Kadłucka, biologist and president of the coalition of foundations Niech Żyją! (“Let Them Live!”), stresses the river’s role as an ecological corridor. “The Bug River allows species to migrate. With such extensive changes, migration will be seriously disrupted, first during construction and later as organisms struggle to adapt,” she says. “The river is also a crucial watering place and a shelter in extreme weather. Now, it is losing these functions. Aquatic organisms will suffer from rising water temperatures and the loss of shade.”
Poland: stopping migration at all costs
Despite the environmental and financial costs involved in securitising the border, the number of people attempting to cross the Bug is not high. According to an investigation published by Oko.Press in December 2024, the Polish Border Guard prevented 395 people from illegally crossing the Polish-Belarusian border along its river section last year – a relatively small number in the broader context of migration. As stated by the Podlaskie Voivodeship Branch of the Border Guard, in 2024, officers recorded nearly 30,000 attempts to cross the border between the two countries illegally.
The Polish government’s priorities became clear in March 2025 when the parliament approved plans to temporarily suspend asylum applications in case of direct security threats. Humanitarian organisations have condemned the move. Grupa Granica, a solidarity network of humanitarian aid groups on the Polish-Belarusian border, states: “The statistics show that the Polish-Belarusian border is mainly crossed by people from countries gripped by conflicts and crises. Poland will cease to be the first safe country in the EU for them. Those seeking refuge in Europe, deprived of the opportunity to apply for international protection in Poland, will be pushed into the grey zone. Smugglers and human traffickers will benefit.”
Despite the environmental and financial costs involved in securitising the border, the number of people attempting to cross the Bug is not high.
Polish and international NGOs insist that the right to seek asylum is a fundamental human right that must not be revoked, regardless of geopolitical pressures. While the European Union has urged Poland to respect human rights and ensure access to humanitarian organisations, the political rhetoric across Europe continues to harden.
It was apparent in the lead-up to Germany’s federal election this February, and in the ongoing presidential campaign in Poland. Border protection and migration control have become dominant campaign themes. “Security” is the promise repeated most. Yet the human and environmental costs of these policies remain largely ignored.
Belarus’ environmental information blackout
While Poland prioritises border security over ecological concerns, Belarus has imposed strict information controls on environmental issues. After the 2020 protests related to the non-recognition of the presidential election results, authorities closed all NGOs, and many environmental activists were put behind bars. Around the same time, Belarus withdrew from the Aarhus Convention, which grants the public rights regarding access to information, participation, and justice in environmental matters.
The available information on the pollution of the Bug River does not give a full picture of the scale of the environmental problem. The website of the Ministry of Natural Resources and Environmental Protection of the Republic of Belarus (Minprirody) publishes quarterly data on surface water monitoring. However, this information is presented in an inconvenient text format, which makes it difficult to identify clear trends and patterns.
Before the Russian invasion of Ukraine started, Belarus, Poland and Ukraine cooperated on transboundary environmental protection. Experts exchanged water quality data, conducted joint monitoring, and shared expertise. Interaction took place not only between official state institutions, but also between NGOs and environmental activists. One such example is the Bug Unites Us project: the organisers proposed to create canoeing routes on the Bug River through Ukraine, Belarus and Poland. The project received financial support from the EU: 1.4 million euros were allocated for its implementation in 2014-2020 within the framework of the cross-border cooperation programme “Poland-Belarus-Ukraine”.

Two places were identified between Poland, Belarus, and Ukraine where, during the tourist season, it would be possible to pass border controls and cross the river border on kayaks. However, due to the tense geopolitical situation, the international routes never got off the ground. Rafting is now only done within each country.
Environmental activists from Poland, Belarus, and Ukraine have also joined forces to oppose the E40 waterway project: a more than 2000-kilometre shipping route along the Vistula, Pripyat and Dnieper rivers to connect the Baltic and Black Seas. They have repeatedly held protests against the plan’s implementation, with the activity peaking in 2018. Officials (both Polish, Ukrainian and Belarusian) were actively working on the E40’s development from 2016 to 2019. Activists argued however that it would have destroyed the unique nature of the Polesie region. A report by Save Polesia – a coalition of civil society organisations from Poland, Ukraine, Belarus, and Germany – reveals that the planned waterway would threaten nearly 200 internationally protected areas across the three countries, including several Natura 2000 sites.
The suppression of environmental information in Belarus is directly linked to the government’s fear of protests.
As relations worsened between the three countries, the E40 project was eventually frozen, making it a rare example of how political tensions can serve to prevent further damage to ecological features.
In any case, the involvement of activists from Belarus ceased after the government’s crackdown on NGOs following the 2020 protests. Reports are still being issued, but only by groups in Poland and Ukraine, which signed an agreement on border water management as early as 1996. The Polish-Ukrainian Boundary Waters Commission conducts monthly surveys on the Polish and Ukrainian sides. In recent years, the two countries have used different methodologies, which has made creating joint reports difficult. However, there is the prospect of facilitating better cooperation – Ukraine is now introducing water monitoring in accordance with the requirements of the EU Water Framework Directive. Additionally, in March 2025, the EU and Ukraine launched the EU4Green Recovery East programme, which, among other goals, supports the reduction of water pollution and better cross-border cooperation.
The suppression of environmental information in Belarus is directly linked to the government’s fear of protests. In 2017, citizens opposed the construction of a battery factory near the Bug River, fearing high lead emissions. Despite protests, the plant began operations in 2020. Given past environmental scandals – including 8,000 tonnes of lead waste illegally dumped in the Zeleny Bor village – locals have little trust in government assurances about safety.

Belarusian legislation theoretically protects the environment, but enforcement is weak. The available data on water pollution suggest serious contamination from nitrogen, phosphates, and heavy metals. However, authorities provide no details on pollution sources or specific locations, making independent analysis impossible.
Another looming crisis is the state of Belarus’ wastewater treatment facilities. Many cities in the Bug basin still rely on Soviet-era equipment from the 1980s. These outdated systems no longer effectively filter pollutants. Prior to 2020, EU funding helped modernise wastewater treatment in some cities, such as Brest. But since sanctions halted cooperation, other cities, such as Kobrin, have been left with crumbling infrastructure. If wastewater treatment facilities fail, raw sewage could spill into the Bug, contaminating the Vistula, which is a tributary of the Baltic Sea.
Can politics and nature coexist?
While Belarus restricts environmental transparency and Poland prioritises border security, the Bug River silently bears the consequences. History has shown that political tensions push ecological concerns into the background, where they remain until the damage is beyond repair. The failure to cooperate on environmental protection and the militarisation of the border are leaving scars that will last for generations. Deforestation, pollution and habitat destruction are not temporary side effects but permanent losses that will shape the future of this region. As climate change accelerates and biodiversity dwindles, true security is not just about fortified borders, but also about safeguarding ecosystems.
Elsewhere in the world, rivers like the Canadian Magpie and New Zealand’s Whanganui have been granted legal personhood, allowing them to fight for their right to exist and thrive. The Bug River, despite its ecological significance, has no such protection. It cannot speak for itself, especially when confronted with arguments of national security and political necessity.
But as the political landscape surrounding the Bug River becomes increasingly fraught, the health of the Bug River is not just a matter of national interest – it is a shared responsibility that transcends borders and divisions.
This article was produced with the support of Journalismfund Europe.

