- Ani Dasgupta’s path runs from Delhi’s slums to the World Bank and now WRI, where he argues climate, nature, and development must move together. His leadership emphasizes moral purpose, trust, and “orchestration” that links funders, governments, NGOs, and communities to turn knowledge into action.
- He points to pragmatic models: post-tsunami Aceh’s collaborative rebuild, a Kenyan macadamia venture restoring land while raising incomes with Terrafund’s early support, and Kigali’s wetland revival culminating in Nyandungu Park. These show nature-based solutions can cut risk and create jobs, yet financing remains the bottleneck despite WRI’s estimate that $1 in adaptation yields $10 in benefits over a decade.
- Technology is a means, not a cure-all: radar-powered RADD alerts, Global Forest Watch, and WRI’s Land & Carbon Lab aim to democratize environmental intelligence, with AI lowering entry barriers. Evidence like Indigenous monitoring in Peru halving deforestation underpins his measured optimism that systems can bend if collaboration is real and benefits are visible.
- Dasgupta was interviewed by Mongabay Founder and CEO Rhett Ayers Butler in September 2025.
Ani Dasgupta has spent a career trying to make cities fairer and the planet more livable, first as an architect in training, then as a World Bank hand in the churn of post-disaster recovery, and now as President and CEO of the World Resources Institute. His path runs from Delhi’s informal settlements to Banda Aceh after the 2004 tsunami to WRI’s global platform, where he argues that climate, nature, and development rise or fall together. The point, he says, is not elegant plans but outcomes that improve daily life.
“Leadership isn’t about hierarchy or control, but about moral purpose, trust and collaboration.”
Aceh provided the template. As the World Bank’s infrastructure lead in Indonesia, he coordinated dozens of donors with no formal authority, a lesson in convening rather than commanding. That experience animates his book, The New Global Possible, and his term of art for the work ahead: orchestration. In practice, he means stitching together actors who rarely meet so that local projects can take root and endure.
“It’s about connecting funders, governments, NGOs and local communities so that projects can take root and sustain themselves.”
The example he likes is decidedly unglamorous: a Kenyan macadamia venture that pays farmers promptly, restores degraded land, and turns a restoration pledge into steady income. Early catalytic support came via Terrafund for AFR100; commercial finance followed.
Dasgupta is not blind to scale. He contends that nature delivers mitigation and adaptation at once, but proving and financing that claim is harder than repeating it. Kigali’s revival of its wetlands, culminating in Nyandungu Ecotourism Park, is his exhibit for nature-based solutions that reduce floods, create jobs, and bring back wildlife. Yet even here the constraint is money. He cites WRI’s finding that “every $1 invested in adaptation yields over $10 in benefits over 10 years,” then notes how little capital flows to such work.
Technology, in his telling, is a means rather than a messiah. Radar alerts that pierce tropical cloud cover, open platforms like Global Forest Watch, and WRI’s Land & Carbon Lab are tools to lower information costs and widen participation. He is bullish on using AI to make environmental intelligence conversational, while wary of the usual hype. Evidence that such tools matter already exists, he argues, pointing to cases where Indigenous monitoring in Peru halved deforestation on their lands.
Dasgupta’s optimism is measured. Systems built on fossil fuels and nature’s liquidation will not flip quickly. He is convinced they can bend, provided collaboration is real and benefits are visible.
“We are not stuck, and there is a way forward, but it takes work.”
In the conversation that follows, we probe what that work looks like: how to orchestrate change across forests and cities, how to pay for adaptation, and how to keep equity at the center when the clock is short.
An interview with Ani Dasgupta
Rhett Ayers Butler for Mongabay: You started your career in architecture and affordable housing—how did that path lead you to global sustainability?
Ani Dasgupta: From my earliest days growing up in Delhi, my parents instilled a sense of curiosity about the world and a thirst for learning. When I attended architecture school there, I was more interested in the slums next to the tea shop than the fancy buildings we were learning to design. To this day, the only structure I’ve built is my parents’ house. But that early curiosity set me on a different mission: to understand how cities work and why slums exist persist even amid growing wealth. This quest has guided the trajectory of my career.
At the World Bank, where I spent more than 20 years, I saw how fragile development gains could be in the face of natural disasters. When I was head of infrastructure for the World Bank in Indonesia, the 2004 tsunami wiped out much of Banda Aceh, killing more than 200,000 people. It was a devastating disaster but it taught me the importance of trusting local knowledge and that resilience must be built into communities.
I also came to see that tackling inequity is inseparable from tackling climate change. I saw firsthand how the poorest and most rural populations are the last to benefit from new technologies, such as sanitation or clean fuels. These communities already live with the smallest environmental footprint — using very few resources and making the most of them in remarkably inventive ways. But global emissions won’t fall if these communities are still forced to rely on wood-burning stoves or diesel generators. When tackling climate change, putting a focus on equity is not just morally good, it is necessary.
Mongabay: Working in Aceh after the 2004 tsunami shaped your view of rebuilding better. How does that experience influence your leadership at WRI today?
Ani Dasgupta: The reconstruction of Aceh was a moment where I learned what kind of leader I wanted to be. I was working for the World Bank in Jakarta at the time and became the point-person coordinating more than fifty donors supporting the government to rebuild. No one had any official leadership role over another, but the group worked seamlessly together—so well that if you go to Banda Aceh today, you would barely even know there was once a disaster. It’s so well reconstructed because everyone was working towards a common goal, recognizing that we weren’t just helping the community rebuild, but partnering with them to shape the city’s next fifty years.
That moment shaped how I think about leadership: it isn’t about hierarchy or control, but about moral purpose, trust and collaboration. The Aceh effort succeeded because leaders —formal and informal — were willing to put community first, focusing not just on recovery but on long-term development. Moral leadership inspires people to work with you because they see genuine value in what you bring — not because they’re obliged to. That’s when collaboration is at its best.
Mongabay: When you became CEO of WRI, what was the biggest mindset shift you wanted to bring to the organization?
The biggest mindset shift I wanted to bring was rooted in a simple belief: we can only shift global systems in ways that improve people’s lives if we strengthen the entire ecosystem. WRI is an incredible place to work because no one has a monopoly on knowledge — our strength comes from diverse people working together to turn knowledge into impact. As I argue in the book, leadership isn’t about one person at the top – it’s about creating the conditions for collaboration around a shared purpose. That’s why I’ve pushed WRI to lean even more into its collective power —linking our research to action, connecting offices across countries and partnering with governments, businesses, Indigenous Peoples and civil society to drive systems change for people, nature and climate.
Mongabay: How do you personally stay optimistic when progress on climate and nature often feels too slow?
Ani Dasgupta: Progress has been slower than what we need, but I can’t say that I’m surprised. We are not just trying to reduce a certain amount of carbon or protect x hectares of land. Our economies today are powered by fossil fuels and built on the exploitation of nature. What we’re really trying to shift the economic system itself—and that’s enormously difficult to do quickly.
I stay optimistic because I’ve seen firsthand what’s possible: a tiny island country rallying all countries around an ambitious climate goal in Paris, or electric school buses expanding across the United States and a school in Kentucky using the money they save on fuel to raise teachers’ salaries. Writing my book, The New Global Possible and speaking with over a hundred experts only deepened that conviction.
Systemic change is already underway — the challenge now is learning from past successes and failures and orchestrating it change at speed and scale. We are not stuck, and there is a way forward, but it takes work.
Mongabay: The book talks about “orchestrating change.” What does that mean in practice for restoring nature?
Ani Dasgupta: While I was writing this book, I met three women in Kenya who were building a business called Exotic EPZ. They work with over 10,000 farmers in the country growing macadamia nut trees, teaching them how to grow and helping them take care of the trees. Then, when the nuts are harvested, Exotic EPZ buys them directly from the farmers, paying them immediately, and process them at a factory just outside of Nairobi. The farmers and their families are making a good income from this crop, as are the people processing the nuts. At the same time, planting the macadamia trees in degraded lands is bringing water back under the ground, the soil is being renewed, and the landscape is being restored. Because macadamia trees can live for 50 years means this restoration is providing a long-term benefit to the ecosystem while improving lives and livelihoods. This is a clear example of how we can build an economy that is good for people, good for nature, and good for climate.
Today, nearly one quarter of land on the African continent is degraded. Over thirty African countries have come together and pledged to restore 100 million hectares by 2030. That’s an inspiring goal —but making it real is enormously complex. To be effective, land restoration requires local action. So how do we get it done in a thousand places at once?
That’s what I mean by orchestration. It’s about connecting funders, governments, NGOs and local communities so that projects can take root and sustain themselves.
Terrafund for AFR100 is one example: it provides early support to local restoration groups, helping them demonstrate impact and eventually attract investment from banks or markets. Exotic EPZ was one of the initiatives that received initial support from Terrafund, but now, they are a commercially viable business able to get loans from the bank. As we have seen, once that initial support flows, you often find a ripple effect: restoration groups become investable, new markets form and local livelihoods improve. In practice, orchestration means aligning actors who would not easily meet otherwise, so that together they can unlock change for people, nature and climate.
Mongabay: What role do you see forests and biodiversity playing in avoiding the worst climate outcomes?
Ani Dasgupta: Nature is unique in that it supports both mitigation and adaptation outcomes—and is cost-effective. Kigali, the capital of Rwanda, is extremely hilly, which has presented many challenges. During the rainy season, the city faces landslides and flooding, but during the dry season, rivers run low.
Traditional infrastructure failed to address these challenges. Road closures and inundated homes were typical, as were depleted and eroding lands.
The city of Kigali began reconsidering its natural wetland ecosystem not as simply a problem to address, but as a key to the city’s climate resilience and socioeconomic development. The city started a pilot project, evacuating the most flood-prone land and doing basic remediation—filtering toxins, restoring the soil, and reintroducing thirsty plants. This was a six-year project, and by the end, dozens of frog and bird species reappeared on the land. The administration officially opened Nyandungu Ecotourism Park in July 2022. Today, the park is three times its original planned surface area and has created around four thousand local jobs. Investments in nature-based approaches are already helping families thrive and reducing the risk of floods.
Still, no matter how effective, it is still proving difficult to finance nature-based solutions, especially for climate adaptation. WRI research has found that every $1 invested in adaptation yields over $10 in benefits over 10 years. Finding ways to scale up investments in nature-based solutions for adaptation is a critical challenge.
Mongabay: Technology like Global Forest Watch has helped communities monitor deforestation. What other innovations excite you for protecting nature?
Ani Dasgupta: The book chapter on technology is actually one of my favorites because many of the most compelling stories are about forests. This is because technological innovation across sectors is inevitable. The real question is whether innovation will actually produce good outcomes for people, nature and climate.
Take AI. While there are many important environmental and ethical considerations, there are also critical opportunities for exponential progress. The Land & Carbon Lab is a partnership that makes environmental intelligence accessible to decision-makers, communities, and practitioners around the world. This includes vitally important landscapes like grasslands, which we previously had little data on. We can now track and analyze changes over time. Building on this, the platform will be completely accessible to the public and users will be able to ask plain-language questions and receive clear, data-driven answers—complete with maps, statistics, and context.
Mongabay: Many of the book’s stories highlight unusual partnerships. Can you share one where collaboration made a big difference for ecosystems?
Ani Dasgupta: One example I love is the Radar Alerts for Detecting Deforestation (RADD) consortium. Here, major palm oil producers and buyers — normally competitors — came together to co-fund a radar-based monitoring system. Unlike traditional satellites that rely on clear skies, radar can see through clouds, which means forest loss in the tropics can be detected within days instead of months.
Thanks to this investment, forest loss can be detected much faster in tropical regions where cloud cover often hides the damage for weeks or months. This not only gives companies better visibility into risks in their supply chains, but also enables WRI and partners to make the alerts freely available as a public good through Global Forest Watch. Today, tens of thousands of users—companies, governments, communities—regularly use these alerts to take fast action. Indigenous communities using deforestation alerts in Peru have cut deforestation by more than half in their territories.
Header image: Satellite image of Lake Chad. Image courtesy of Maxar.
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