Until recently, Henning Voigt’s 500-hectare farmland along the Peene River, near Germany’s northeastern Baltic Sea coast, was well-drained and used as a cattle pasture. Not anymore. Driven by the urgency of climate action, Voigt made a bold decision: to reverse the course of modern history.
For centuries, farmers across Europe, in the U.S., and elsewhere have transformed peatlands like his into agricultural land by carving millions of kilometers of canals and ditches to drain water from soil. These drainage systems enabled them to grow crops and provide livestock with pasture. But in addition to harming the rich natural plant and animal life in marshes and bogs, this also came with a hidden cost: Once dried, peaty soils begin to break down and release vast quantities of CO2 — the leading contributor to global warming. Studies estimate that drained peatlands are annually responsible for up to 5 percent of human-caused greenhouse gas emissions globally, surpassing those of the aviation industry.
Peatlands are found around the world where acidic soils and a high water table prevent dead plants from fully decomposing. The resulting layers of compressed plants are often many meters thick, up to 4.5 meters (more than 14 feet) in the case of Henning Voigt’s land. “Whether in Europe, North America, Brazil, the Congo Basin, or Indonesia, preventing peat degradation is essential for humanity if we are serious about achieving carbon neutrality by mid-century,” says Franziska Tanneberger, a peatland scientist and director of the Greifswald Mire Centre, a think tank jointly operated by the University of Greifswald, the Succow Foundation, and the Institute of Sustainable Development of Landscapes of the Earth.
Scientists agree that the only way to halt CO2 emissions from dried peatland is to stop draining it and allow the water table to rise.
Tanneberger calls for swift action to stop peatlands from further drying up, not just in Europe but worldwide. “Peatlands cover just 3 percent of Earth’s land surface,“ she says, “yet they store more than 500 gigatons of carbon, which is twice as much carbon as all the world’s forest biomass combined.”
The European Union stands out as a global “drainage hotspot,” as 50 percent of its peatlands have been converted to farmland, according to research published in the journal Diversity. The share is even higher in northern Germany, where Voigt farms, at 92 percent.
As in many other regions, peatlands here are losing one centimeter or more of topsoil annually. “Over the years, you can literally witness the land vanish,” says Voigt, who is in his 30s and took over the farm from his father.
Scientists agree that the only way to halt this process — and the CO2 emissions it produces — is to stop draining the land and allow the water table to rise to about 10 centimeters (about 4 inches) below the surface.
Unlike other farmers, Voigt took action when he learned about the impacts of drainage. In 2020, in a joint project with scientists from the nearby University of Greifswald, he began turning a 10-hectare grazing plot into a new type of cropland. He cleared the lush green grass, constructed a low dyke around the area, and planted common reed and two species of cattail, or Typha, native to peatlands. Then he let the groundwater return. In dry summer months, he can moisten his plot using a solar-powered pump that pulls from an adjacent river.
Henning Voigt grows reed and cattail on rewetted peatland near Malchin, Germany.
Christian Schwägerl
This type of intervention needs careful calibration. If the water table is too high for longer periods, methane, a powerful greenhouse gas, might form. A gas analyzer was placed on a tower in the middle of the plot to document changes in emissions of CO2, methane, and nitrous oxide. Preliminary data indicate a decrease in CO2 emissions into the atmosphere.
While “rewetting” projects like this are a proven way to lower CO2 emissions from converted peatlands, they pose an existential threat to farmers who can no longer grow wheat or potatoes on their land or graze livestock. One theoretical option would be to take rewetted peatlands out of agricultural production and compensate farmers. But that might be rejected as a land grab for climate’s sake.
As Voigt says, “We can’t go on like this, but we can’t just give up our land either.”
Tanneberger agrees. “It’s neither feasible nor fair to simply take that land away from farmers in the name of climate protection,” she says. “Instead, we need to find ways for farmers to earn a living from rewetted peatlands and the sphagnum mosses, sedges, grasses, and rushes that thrive there.”
Dry peatlands were responsible for around 7 percent of Germany’s greenhouse gas emissions in 2022.
To that end, Tanneberger has teamed up with Claudia Bühler, the director of the Michael Otto Environment Foundation, which is funded by the German retailer Otto Group, to promote a form of marsh farming called “paludiculture.” An initiative called “toMOORow” aims to match farmers with large companies as future buyers of the plants that thrive in peatlands.
“Plants from peatlands can be used in various mass markets, such as insulation materials, paper and cardboard, or sustainably sourced horticultural soil,” Tanneberger says. In her meetings with farmers, government officials, entrepreneurs, and corporate leaders throughout Germany and Europe, she highlights what she calls paludiculture’s quadruple benefits: “Through rewetting, you save emissions from the land; you can substitute materials that might otherwise have a fossil origin; you can sequester carbon in durable products like furniture; and you can encourage peat formation, creating new carbon sink capacities.”
The task is huge. In Germany alone, drained peatlands now under cultivation cover 1.7 million hectares — an area the size of Thuringia, in Germany, or larger than Connecticut. Dry peatlands were responsible for around 7 percent of the country’s greenhouse gas emissions in 2022 alone, according to Bühler. At least 1 million hectares urgently need to be rewetted, she says.
Crops grow on drained peatland in the Donaumoos region of southern Germany.
Christian Schwägerl
Across Germany, numerous projects have sprung up to jumpstart this process. In mid-2024, the federal government launched a 10-year program, called “PaludiNet,” to advance wetland agriculture on nine sites across the country. The state of Bavaria has launched a scheme called “PeatFarmers” that stabilizes farmers’ incomes with government grants while they are testing new approaches and has pledged to spend 200 million Euros in one large area, the Donaumoos, or Danube marsh, alone.
In an extensive peatland area near Bremen called Devil’s Bog, farmers have founded a start-up to grow, process, and market peatland biomass together; another start-up, called ZukunftMoor, or “FuturePeat,” is cultivating moss for the horticultural soil industry, in an attempt to replace garden soil extracted from intact bogs. Similar moss projects are underway in other European countries, and a start-up in northwest England aims to harvest Typha from a rewetted peatland in Lancashire to use as “BioPuff,” an insulation material for winter jackets.
Rewetting is also on the rise in the U.S. After focusing on raised bogs initially, more projects have recently targeted groundwater-fed wetlands. And there are calls to stop drainage in large former wetlands like the pocosins in North Carolina (such a change would potentially prevent the release of 24 million tons of CO2 annually in that region alone). While paludiculture is seen as a promising way forward for tropical countries, too, growing and harvesting marsh plants to make wetland conservation pay is furthest developed in Europe.
Without substantial demand for peatland products, rewetting an area large enough to significantly reduce emissions won’t be possible.
On a cold, gray day last month, two bright red tractors rumbled across Henning Voigt‘s plot of land — an unusual sight so late in the year. One was cutting cattails, the other collecting them. The machines, on loan from their manufacturer, drew the attention of neighboring farmers curious to see what was going on. Adding to the intrigue, the tractors weren’t fitted with wheels but continuous tracks, enabling them to traverse the peatland without sinking. “I might just as well buy that as my next toy,” one of the farmers quipped — until he learned the price tag for these specialized machines started at 300,000 euros.
Voigt’s land stands as a model for paludiculture. “If we can turn these plants into high-value products, it could be a game changer for how we manage peatlands,” he told his neighbors. Scientists from the University of Greifswald, who were present to weigh and examine the yield, agreed. By the end of a long day’s work, two piles of chopped up Typha plants, almost three meters, or 10 feet, high, were ready to be transported to a company that will test them as building insulation.
While some forms of paludiculture, like using reeds as roofing, have been practiced for centuries, scaling the practice to an industrial level for meaningful climate mitigation is a novel endeavor. That’s why Bühler and Tanneberger’s “toMOORow” initiative launched its so-called “Alliance of Pioneers,” a coalition of 15 major companies cooperating to create demand for peatland biomass. The group includes well-known paper and cardboard producers, construction companies, large hardware store chains, and Otto Group.
Left: A tractor harvests cattails on Henning Voigt’s farm. Right: An instrument measures greenhouse gas emissions from his land.
Christian Schwägerl
In one of the organization’s many pilot projects, Otto Group in late 2024 incorporated up to 10 percent of peatland biomass — from sedges and rushes — into 100,000 of its cardboard boxes. The trial was a success, and the company committed to scaling up production after further testing. WEPA, a large German paper manufacturer operating across Europe, has also started to add peatland plants to its pulp slurry.
But such a transition poses substantial challenges, as Tanneberger discovered during a recent visit to a sprawling paper factory, owned by the LEIPA Group, an Alliance member, near the Polish border. The factory produces 1.5 million tons of recycled paper annually and is continually on the lookout for new sources of cellulose.
“We’d love to add biomass from peatlands to our paper feedstock,” manager Sebastian Stockfisch told Tanneberger, but so far he finds wetland vegetation too variable. “Ideally, delivery trucks would bring homogenous material, not wildly different mixes of species,” he said. For certain applications, such as insulation material, mixed species might be used. But not for paper production, he stressed.
Where marsh crops aren’t planted as monocultures, one high-tech option to address this heterogeneity involves using drones to analyze the vegetation, with AI guiding tractors to harvest specific species separately. A more traditional option is to build post-harvest sorting facilities near farms, where plants can be separated by species or properties. The company would also need to build a facility where peatland biomass is cleaned and sorted so it can be injected into the slurry made from recycled paper.
A box made partly from peatland sedges and rushes for German retailer Otto.
Christian Schwägerl
For paludiculture to contribute to emissions reductions, the biggest challenge lies in scaling up. Farmers interested in cultivating peatland crops at scale are unlikely to do so without guaranteed demand, and other farmers won’t even consider rewetting their fields. “We support climate action, but our income still depends on growing our crops,” says Gerhard Dittenhauser, the spokesperson for a group that produces potatoes, maize, and wheat in the deep, black peat of the Donaumoos region.
Meanwhile, most potential industrial players remain hesitant to invest in new processes and machinery without the assurance of a consistent, reliable supply of biomass tailored to their needs.
To address this chicken-and-egg dilemma, the “toMOORow” initiative is developing a digital trading platform for peatland biomass “where companies can post their demands, farmers can list their supplies, and both sides can connect,” Bühler says. She emphasizes that without substantial supply and demand for peatland products, rewetting an area large enough to significantly reduce CO2 emissions won’t be possible.
In an effort to make paludiculture more appealing to farmers, the University of Greifswald is also exploring additional incentives, including selling certificates for verified carbon emissions reductions and the installation of solar panels on rewetted peatlands — options that Voigt is already experimenting with.
“When combined, these new income streams should make financial sense,” Voigt says. If farmers do nothing, he adds, “We’ll lose our land to the atmosphere and further contribute to climate change.”
