£2 daily payments help Amazon communities protect rainforest, study finds

Food insecurity among participating households decreased significantly from 73% to 26%, reducing economic desperation that drives environmental crimes.
When communities have security, they protect the ecosystems they depend on.
A researcher explains why unconditional cash transfers appeared to drive conservation behaviour in the Peruvian Amazon pilot.
Mark

So the headline is that money made people protect the forest. But how do we know the money caused that? Couldn't something else have changed at the same time?

Mimi

That's exactly what the researchers acknowledge. They didn't measure forest cover or soil quality. They measured behaviour—what people said they did—and tracked economic outcomes like food security and migration. The causation is suggestive, not proven.

Luke

Right. And 500 hectares is tiny. That's not a forest; that's a demonstration. We don't know if this works at scale, or if the benefits hold when you're not being studied.

Mimi

True. But the researchers are honest about that. They're calling it pioneering, not conclusive. The point is that nearly 90% of people adopted conservation practices, and food insecurity dropped dramatically. Those are real changes in people's lives.

Mark

What about the warnings? I read that cash transfers have sometimes increased deforestation elsewhere.

Luke

That's the real tension. In some parts of the Amazon, cash lets people buy motorbikes and cars, which creates demand for roads. That fragments the forest. And there are reports of drugs becoming more accessible when communities travel to collect transfers.

Mimi

So the context matters enormously. This worked in these three communities, with these leaders, with the voluntary education programme alongside it. Whether it works in a different place with different pressures—that's unknown.

Mark

What would it take to know?

Luke

A much larger study. Multiple communities, multiple regions, longer timeframes. Actual measurement of forest cover, not just self-reported behaviour. And honest accounting of what goes wrong, not just what goes right.

Mimi

Howard said that's what he hopes happens next. He knows the pilot is small. But he's arguing that innovation sometimes requires accepting that limitation in order to test something new.

Mark

So this is a proof of concept, not proof.

Luke

Exactly. And that's fine—as long as we're clear about what we're looking at.

  • Desperation, not indifference, drives deforestation — and a modest £2 a day was enough to interrupt that cycle for nearly 90% of participating households.
  • Food insecurity collapsed from 73% to 26%, and forced migration fell from 43% to 18%, meaning people could stay on their land rather than abandon it.
  • Unlike previous conservation schemes tied to behavioral conditions, this program was designed with local women's groups and imposed no mandates — a deliberate break from the colonial logic of environmental policy.
  • Skeptics point to cases elsewhere in the Amazon where cash transfers accelerated deforestation, and researchers concede the pilot was too small and too brief to settle the debate.
  • The study's authors are calling for larger trials, while civil society networks watch closely to see whether what worked in three communities can survive the translation to scale.

In three Asháninka communities in Peru's Amazon, a two-year experiment offered something rarely extended to Indigenous peoples: unconditional trust, in the form of small cash payments with no requirements attached. What researchers from the University of Bath found was not a paradox but a confirmation — that when people are freed from the grip of survival, they tend to protect the world they live in. The pilot, funded by UK charity Cool Earth, is now asking a question that reaches far beyond its 500 hectares: can economic dignity be a form of conservation?

In Peru's Asháninka region, researchers from the University of Bath spent two years testing a disarmingly simple proposition: give Indigenous people unconditional cash and observe what happens to the forest around them. Funded by UK charity Cool Earth, the pilot enrolled 211 people across three communities, each receiving six payments totaling roughly £2 a day — no conditions, no mandates, no conservation requirements attached.

The results were striking. Nearly 90% of participants voluntarily adopted environmentally beneficial practices — collective reforestation, water source restoration, reduced forest burning. The explanation, researchers argued, was not idealism but relief. Food insecurity dropped from 73% to 26%. Forced migration fell from 43% to 18%. When households could afford to eat and young people saw a future in their villages, the economic pressures that drive environmental crimes simply eased.

Lead author Dr Neil Howard described the approach as a form of ethical conservation — one that treated Indigenous communities as stewards rather than obstacles, a pointed contrast to the conditionality embedded in programs like Brazil's bolsa verde. The project also layered in voluntary community-led education on finance, conservation, and climate change, suggesting the cash alone was not the whole story: dignity and knowledge traveled alongside the money.

Yet the study's authors are candid about its limits. The pilot covered just over 500 hectares, measured no changes in vegetation or soil, and could not rule out the influence of other concurrent programs. A cautionary body of research exists: in other parts of the Amazon, cash transfers have sometimes accelerated deforestation as recipients expanded agriculture, and new mobility has exposed some communities to additional risks. Howard acknowledged the gap plainly — 'We could do with something much larger' — while expressing hope that the early results would encourage more ambitious trials. Whether the conditions that made this work in three Peruvian communities can be replicated elsewhere remains the open and consequential question.

In Peru's Asháninka region, a two-year experiment tested a simple idea: give Indigenous people cash with no strings attached, and see what happens to the forest they live in. The results surprised few who understand desperation, but they matter anyway. Researchers from the University of Bath studied 211 people across three communities who received six cash transfers of 1,032 Peruvian soles each—roughly £2 a day—to spend however they chose. What the researchers found was that nearly 90% of participants adopted environmentally beneficial practices: collective reforestation, restoration of water sources, reduction of forest burning. The money came from Cool Earth, a UK-based charity, and the study is now shaping a larger conversation about whether direct payments to communities can actually protect the ecosystems the world depends on.

The mechanism is not mysterious. When a household cannot afford nutritious food, someone eventually cuts down trees to sell or clears land for crops. When a young person sees no economic future in their village, they leave for the city or worse. The pilot showed both problems shrinking. Food insecurity—measured as households unable to afford adequate nutrition—fell from 73% to 26%. Forced migration, the share of people who had to leave home to find work, dropped from 43% to 18%. People stayed. They had enough. They could think beyond survival.

Dr Nick Langridge, one of the study's authors, framed it plainly: when communities have security and autonomy, they protect the ecosystems they depend on. Dr Neil Howard, the lead author, went further, calling the approach a form of ethical conservation. Previous payment schemes—Brazil's bolsa família, its bolsa verde—came with conditions attached: education requirements, conservation mandates. This one didn't. The project was designed with local women's groups and offered what its name promised: unconditional basic income to an Indigenous Amazon community. Howard noted that this contrasts sharply with the colonial history of conservation policy, where Indigenous people were often treated as obstacles rather than stewards.

The researchers also layered in what they called a "cash plus" programme: voluntary community-led education on finance, conservation, and climate change. This was not the money alone doing the work. It was the money plus knowledge, plus dignity, plus the space to choose.

But the study carries real limitations, and other researchers are not ready to declare the question settled. The pilot covered just over 500 hectares—1,235 acres—a small footprint. The researchers did not measure changes in vegetation or soil quality. They did not account for other projects that might have been influencing community behaviour at the same time. And there is a cautionary literature: cash transfers in other parts of the Amazon have sometimes led to increased deforestation as people used the money to expand agriculture. Some Indigenous communities have reported becoming more exposed to drugs when they travel to cities to collect transfers. Motorbikes and cars bought with cash create demand for roads, which fragments forest.

Howard acknowledged the gap between what this pilot showed and what would be needed to scale the approach. "Yes, this is experimental," he said. "We could do with something much larger." But he also framed the early results as genuinely pioneering, and said his hope was that the trade-off between scale and innovation would tip toward more ambitious trials. The cash-for-conservation network of civil society organisations has already taken notice. The question now is whether a two-year success in three Peruvian communities can point toward something larger—or whether the conditions that made it work here are too specific, too dependent on local leadership and external support, to replicate elsewhere.

When communities have greater security and autonomy, they are better able to protect the ecosystems they depend on.
— Dr Nick Langridge, University of Bath
This is ethical conservation. The incentive to exploit or abandon land is diminished, and people are put front and centre with respect and dignity, which contrasts sharply with the colonial history of conservation and Indigenous policy.
— Dr Neil Howard, lead author
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