The infographic, based on World Visualized data, shows that just a handful of countries dominate global pineapple exports, an insight that connects directly to current debates about food security, inflation, and supply-chain resilience.

Costa Rica’s near-monopoly on pineapple exports

At the centre of the global pineapple trade is Costa Rica, which accounts for over 50% of global pineapple exports , valued at approximately $1.4 billion. This dominance is not accidental. According to the CIA World Factbook, agricultural commodities, including bananas, pineapples, and coffee, are core pillars of Costa Rica’s export economy, supported by decades of foreign direct investment and industrial-scale farming.

Major multinational fruit companies operating in Costa Rica, many of which appear on or are connected to firms listed in the Forbes Global 2000, have helped transform the country into the world’s primary pineapple supplier through vertically integrated production, processing, and global distribution networks.

Asia, Europe, and the Role of Trade Hubs

The Philippines, exporting about 15.8% of the world’s pineapples (roughly $430 million), ranks second. Pineapple exports are a major foreign-exchange earner for the country, with agribusiness giants playing a significant role in processing and shipping to East Asian, Middle Eastern, and Western markets.

Interestingly, the Netherlands and Belgium, neither of which are major pineapple grower, rank among the top exporters. Their role reflects Europe’s dependence on logistics and re-export hubs, particularly ports like Rotterdam and Antwerp, which redistribute fresh produce across the EU. This mirrors broader European trade patterns identified in the World Factbook, where high-value re-exports significantly inflate agricultural trade figures.

The United States, Africa, and emerging exporters

The United States, exporting just over 4% of global pineapples, relies heavily on production in Hawaii and re-exports tied to multinational supply chains. Meanwhile, Kenya ’s inclusion among the top exporters, even at a smaller share, highlights Africa’s growing footprint in global horticulture, an area increasingly discussed in development and trade policy circles.

This trend aligns with current global news around diversifying food supply chains in response to climate shocks, Red Sea shipping disruptions, and post-pandemic inflation pressures.

The above map of Italy in 1850, before unification, captures a moment when political fragmentation defined everyday life; from laws and currencies to armies and identities.

In the mid-19th century, Italy did not exist as a single state. The Kingdom of Sardinia, centred on Turin and ruled by the House of Savoy, controlled much of the northwest and would later lead the unification movement. To the northeast, Lombardy–Venetia was under Austrian rule, reflecting the strong influence of the Habsburg Empire in Italian affairs.

Central Italy was dominated by the Papal States, governed directly by the Catholic Church from Rome, while Tuscany, Parma, and Modena functioned as independent duchies. In the south, the powerful Kingdom of the Two Sicilies, with Naples as its capital, ruled over southern Italy and Sicily.

After the Congress of Vienna in 1815 , European powers deliberately restored and reinforced small states to prevent the rise of strong nationalist movements. According to Britannica , this system preserved foreign influence, particularly Austrian control, while suppressing liberal and nationalist ambitions across the peninsula.

Yet by 1850, pressure for change was growing. Economic disparities, censorship, and foreign domination fueled resentment, especially among intellectuals and the emerging middle class. Secret societies, revolutionary groups, and figures such as Giuseppe Mazzini promoted the idea of a single Italian nation bound by shared language and culture.

The map also highlights the strategic importance of Rome, which remained outside the future Kingdom of Italy until 1870 due to papal protection by French troops. Its eventual annexation completed unification, making Rome the capital and ending centuries of papal territorial rule.

Italy’s unification between 1861 and 1870 transformed Europe’s political balance, creating a new nation-state at a time when nationalism was reshaping the continent.

The latest breakdown, illustrated by The World in Maps, shows forested land ranging from less than 5% in some states to nearly 90% in others, casting light on the country’s environmental strengths, vulnerabilities, and responsibilities.

According to data from the U.S. Forest Service, states in the Southeast and Northeast top the charts. Maine leads the country with approximately 89% forest coverage, followed closely by New Hampshire at 79% and West Virginia at 79%. These densely forested states act as vital carbon sinks, absorbing millions of tons of CO₂ every year.

On the opposite end of the spectrum, Great Plains states such as North Dakota (2%), South Dakota (3%), and Nebraska (3%) have the lowest forest coverage in the nation. These areas are dominated by vast grasslands and agricultural regions, which play important ecological roles of their own, but absorb far less carbon than forest-heavy regions.

The Western U.S. presents a mixed picture. California has 33% forest coverage, though the state continues to battle massive wildfire seasons that have reduced forest density and threatened biodiversity.

Oregon (49%) and Washington (53%) remain among the most forested states, but both have experienced increasingly destructive fires driven by extreme heat and prolonged drought. The National Interagency Fire Centre reports that wildfire seasons are lasting longer and burning more acreage than ever before.

These patterns come into sharper focus amid urgent global discussions about climate resilience. Just this year, the United Nations called for accelerated reforestation efforts worldwide in response to rising temperatures and more frequent natural disasters.

The UN Environment Programme warns that deforestation worldwide accounts for nearly 11% of carbon emissions, making forest preservation and restoration an essential part of the climate fight.

In the U.S., forests contribute far more than scenic beauty. They support wildlife habitats, provide clean air, protect watersheds, and fuel rural economies. States with higher forest coverage, such as Georgia (67%) and Alabama (71%), rely heavily on sustainable timber industries. Meanwhile, states with lower coverage are exploring prairie conservation and agricultural sustainability to balance environmental needs.

In 2017, the Portuguese Parliament passed Law No. 11/2017, mandating at least one vegan option in all public-sector canteens, including schools, universities, hospitals, and prisons.

The law was heavily supported by the animal rights party PAN (People–Animals–Nature) and framed as a step toward inclusivity and sustainability.

This decision marked a rare moment when ethics, public health, and environmental concern converged into law. According to the European Commission , food-related emissions account for nearly 31% of global greenhouse gases, pushing governments to rethink how food is supplied in public spaces.

Furthermore, the World Health Organisation (WHO) notes that plant-based diets can significantly reduce the risk of non-communicable diseases such as heart disease and obesity, aligning the law with long-term public health goals.

This year’s major UN climate reports have emphasised food-system reform as essential to meeting global climate targets. The UN Environment Programme stated that shifting toward plant-based diets could slash agricultural emissions and land use dramatically.

Meanwhile, the global conversation around veganism has expanded beyond animal ethics. In 2024–2025, rising food prices, supply chain shocks, and conflict-driven shortages have pushed public institutions to reevaluate their menu strategies .

However, while several countries are introducing plant-forward guidelines, none have legislated a mandatory vegan meal nationwide. The UK, Germany, and the Netherlands have debated similar policies but stopped short of legislation. Some cities, like New York City, have introduced plant-based hospital meals by default, but not through national law.

The Nile, which stretches an extraordinary 6,650 km, remains not only the longest river in Africa but one of the longest on Earth. It threads through 11 countries, from Burundi and Uganda to Sudan and Egypt, forming the backbone of agriculture and life along its banks.

Nearly 300 million people depend directly on the Nile Basin for survival.

Flowing west to east, the Niger River, at 4,200 km, is the lifeline of West Africa, curving through Guinea, Mali, Niger and Nigeria before emptying into the Gulf of Guinea.

It supports millions of farmers and fishers and anchors some of the region’s largest urban centres. The Niger Basin Authority notes that the river sustains over 160 million people in nine countries.

In Central Africa, the Congo River runs 4,700 km, carving through one of the world’s largest rainforest ecosystems. It carries more water than any river in Africa and is second only to the Amazon globally.

The Congo Basin is home to over 80 million people and provides critical carbon storage for the planet, a fact repeatedly emphasised in global climate discussions.

To the south, the Zambezi River, which spans 2,600 km, crosses Zambia, Angola, Namibia, Botswana, Zimbabwe and Mozambique. It is the river behind Victoria Falls and fuels major hydroelectric projects such as the Kariba and Cahora Bassa dams, which power much of southern Africa.

Despite the continent's numerous water resources, the Horn of Africa continues to experience climate-driven droughts alternating with destructive floods, which amplify tensions over Nile water rights.

Hydropolitics, the politics of water, is increasingly shaping diplomatic relations. The Grand Ethiopian Renaissance Dam (GERD), for instance, remains a focal point of negotiation between Ethiopia, Sudan and Egypt.

A new global map, shared by The World in Maps, puts that playful divide into perspective in the most striking way yet.

Spread across the continents, the map paints the world in three simple colours. Deep red dominates as a reminder that the vast majority of countries, from South America to Europe to Africa, embrace “football” as the only appropriate name for the game.

Then there are the pockets of teal of the United States, Canada, Australia and a few others, proudly holding on to “soccer.” And sprinkled across Asia are patches of yellow, representing countries where different terms blend or shift depending on region or generation.

The term "soccer "actually originated in England in the late 1800s, an abbreviated form of “association football,” which was shortened to “assoc” and then “soccer.” The word stuck overseas long after the British abandoned it.

Today, the global governing body FIFA consistently refers to “football,” reinforcing its place as the sport’s international identity.

Yet even with history and institutions behind it, language has always belonged to people first — and in North America , “soccer” has grown into its own cultural marker. The term helped distinguish the sport from American football, and over time, it became part of the rhythm of everyday conversation.

Worldwide, the sport remains unmatched. FIFA estimates that over 5 billion people engaged with the 2022 World Cup, half the planet, united for a few weeks by goals, heartbreak, and magic.

The release of this map feels especially timely as nations prepare for a packed football calendar. The world is looking forward to the 2026 World Cup, which will be shared by three countries — the U.S., Mexico and Canada — all with distinct football cultures, different histories, and even different names for the same sport.

There are 12 sovereign states in South America, each with a distinctive flag that carries culture, history and identity.

Some share colour palettes, for example, Venezuela, Colombia and Ecuador all draw on yellow-blue-red stripes linked to the independence era of Simón Bolívar. Others, like Brazil’s green-diamond-blue-circle design, embody unique national motifs.

But these flags aren’t just aesthetic; they signal something deeper about where the region stands and where it could go.

Economically, the region is facing slower growth amid mounting global headwinds. The International Monetary Fund (IMF) projects roughly 2.0 % growth for 2025 for Latin America and the Caribbean, and the wider region is wrestling with rising debt, tariffs, and volatility.

At the same time, South America is increasingly thrust into the global spotlight for other reasons: energy, critical minerals, climate, and geopolitics. A recent news feature reported that major oil producers are looking to Brazil, Guyana and Argentina to drive more than 80 % of global non-OPEC oil-production growth over the next five years, a significant pivot for the continent.

And in the lithium-rich salt flats of Bolivia, once hailed as the “Dubai of South America ” for battery-metal prospects, disappointed locals, Indigenous communities, and environmental groups are pushing back as promise turns into frustration.

Meanwhile, in regional diplomacy, the Southern Common Market (Mercosur) remains an evolving bloc with economic, political and trade ambitions.

For centuries, the Dutch have reclaimed land from the sea using polders (enclosed tracts of drained land) and a complex network of dikes, canals, and pumping stations. The country’s lowest point, the Zuidplaspolder, sits about 6.76 meters below sea level.

Today, roughly 9 million people, more than half the population, live in areas that would flood without active water management.

The entire system is maintained by the “Delta Works,” a world-renowned flood defence network built after the devastating 1953 North Sea Flood that killed more than 1,800 people.

According to the Royal Netherlands Meteorological Institute ( KNMI ), sea levels along the Dutch coast are rising about 3 to 4 millimetres per year, roughly double the global average.

Land subsidence adds to the threat as parts of the west are sinking as peat soils dry and compact. The government ’s Delta Programme 2025 warns that even a 1-meter sea-level rise could overwhelm existing defences by 2100, forcing massive infrastructure upgrades and potentially displacing thousands of residents.

Utrecht University researchers caution that a rise of 2 to 5 metres, which could occur in worst-case global warming scenarios, would make large parts of the Netherlands “unlivable” without dramatic adaptation.

The Netherlands’ situation is not isolated. From Venice to Bangladesh, low-lying regions face similar risks from sea-level rise and coastal flooding. Yet few countries have done as much as the Dutch to prepare.

Still, climate activists warn that even Dutch innovation has limits. Last week, artists installed red figures in Amsterdam’s canals to protest inaction on the climate crisis ahead of COP30 in Brazil, noting that “one-third of the Netherlands already lies below sea level.”

The map, boldly colour-coded and superimposed on a traditional world map layout, challenges conventional perspectives on global demographics. It provides a stark reminder of where people are concentrated and how dramatically population density varies across the Earth.

A bold visualisation of global inequality

Rather than following traditional lines—continents, countries, or even economic regions—this population-based reorganisation shows:

Each region highlights how certain landmasses, like Australia or Northern Canada, contain vast land but very few people, while others, such as parts of South and East Asia, are incredibly dense.

As Our World in Data and the UN Population Division report, global population surpassed 8 billion in late 2022, and growth rates are increasingly uneven—Africa is seeing a youth boom, while Europe and parts of Asia face ageing populations.

This map puts these dynamics into perspective—visually equating continents that are otherwise unequal in demographic size, and encouraging viewers to reimagine global equity, representation, and environmental impact through the lens of people , not places.