An Island and a City Split in Two Since 1974: What Really Lies Behind Cyprus’s Mysterious “Green Line”?
In the eastern Mediterranean, where geopolitical flashpoints often burn hot, a narrow strip of land has remained suspended in time. The green line, a 180-kilometer buffer zone bisecting Cyprus, was forged in 1974 during the island’s violent division. Today, it’s emerging as something no one predicted: a biodiversity haven.
Map of the island of Cyprus, divided in two by a demilitarized buffer zone controlled by the United Nations Peacekeeping Force in Cyprus (UNFICYP) since 1974. | The World Factbook / CIA / public domain / Wikimedia Commons
What began as a ceasefire corridor now teems with life. Once-abandoned villages are overrun with native plants, and animals rarely seen elsewhere on the island have reappeared. Amid the razor wire and rusting watchtowers, Cyprus mouflons—wild sheep with striking curved horns—roam freely. Rare birds nest in the skeletons of war-era buildings. What was meant to divide is now doing something far more unexpected: it’s connecting.
War Left, Wildlife Returned
Following a Greek-backed coup in July 1974 and Turkey’s military intervention, Cyprus was split in two. The United Nations established a demilitarized buffer zone between the internationally recognized Republic of Cyprus in the south and the Turkish-controlled north. It was intended to prevent renewed violence between the two communities.
The zone—patrolled by the United Nations Peacekeeping Force in Cyprus (UNFICYP)—covers roughly 3.7% of the island and remains off-limits without official approval. All construction, farming, or research inside the area requires special permits, and landmine safety training is mandatory for access. Permit holders who enter unsafe areas face immediate expulsion.
A few meters from the “green line” that divides the city of Nicosia (and Cyprus) in two (known as the United Nations Buffer Zone), signs remind visitors of the rules they must follow. | Peter Collins / CC BY-SA 2.0 / Wikimedia Commons
This long-standing isolation has turned the corridor into what ecologists call an involuntary park: protected not by environmental policy, but by geopolitical deadlock.
In 2009, UNDP environmental officer Nicolas Jarraud described the area as a de facto wildlife corridor, saying: “We’d like to show the world it is a green line because it’s a wildlife corridor.”
Forgotten Territory, Rediscovered Life
A 2007 biodiversity survey conducted by Cypriot scientists and supported by the UN Development Programme documented 358 plant species, over 100 birds, and 18 mammals within the buffer zone—many of them thriving more successfully there than in adjacent populated regions.
This long belt of undeveloped land now plays a role similar to other conflict-born sanctuaries, such as the Korean Demilitarized Zone (DMZ) and ecological corridors that emerged after the fall of the Iron Curtain. Like those, the Cypriot buffer zone offers a rare stretch of uninterrupted habitat in an island otherwise carved up by roads, farms, and coastal development.
Young cyprus mouflons – Ovis gmelini ophion stnading on road. | Shutterstock
The return of the Cyprus mouflon is one of the clearest signs of ecological recovery. In abandoned villages like Variseia, these wild sheep now move freely through empty houses and fields, undisturbed by tourists or hunters. The lack of fragmentation has preserved core breeding and feeding grounds that had nearly disappeared elsewhere on the island.
“There’s been a lack of habitat fragmentation. That’s when you start building roads or new buildings, and the habitat is divided into ever smaller areas,” noted scientist Iris Charalambidou in the same BBC report. “That’s been fundamental to nature’s success here.”
The Political Fault Line in Conservation
While ecologists praise the zone’s unintended conservation value, it remains politically and legally ambiguous. The Turkish Republic of Northern Cyprus, declared in 1983, is recognized only by Turkey. The Republic of Cyprus, a member of the EU, claims the entire island but has no administrative authority within the buffer zone.
On the edge of the “green line” in Nicosia, Cyprus, on April 2, 2016. | Julian Nyča / CC BY-SA 3.0 / Wikimedia Commons
This leaves UNFICYP as the de facto governing body in the area, overseeing everything from safety to land use. But the zone lacks any formal protection under international environmental law. Its existence—and the rare ecosystems it now shelters—remain dependent on continued political stalemate.
In 2004, a comprehensive reunification proposal known as the Annan Plan was approved by Turkish Cypriots but rejected by a strong majority of Greek Cypriots. The failure preserved the buffer zone as it stood. Several crossing points have since opened between north and south, but the land in between remains off-limits, undeveloped—and ecologically flourishing.
What Happens if Peace Comes?
Should peace talks succeed or political control shift, the buffer zone could rapidly be reclaimed for agriculture, housing, or infrastructure. Environmental groups have cautioned that such changes would fragment habitats and reverse decades of natural recovery.
A Hawker-Siddeley Trident 2E abandoned on a runway at Nicosia International Airport. On the right is the Cyprus Airways logo from that era, depicting a mouflon, the emblem of Cyprus. Too badly damaged by Turkish troops on July 22, 1974, the aircraft was unable to take off again with the three other remaining aircraft, which were recovered in 1977. | Dickelbers / Wikimedia Commons
The abandoned Nicosia International Airport, once a hub of Cypriot travel, now serves as a rare nesting ground for birds. Nearby, decaying resort towns like Varosha have become eerily quiet ecosystems. But none of these sites enjoy legal protection. Reopening them for development could displace thousands of species that now rely on these ghost towns for survival.
The situation echoes concerns raised in a 2005 academic study on Cyprus’s partition, which argued that both ecological and cultural landscapes had been “frozen in place,” creating conditions that are politically fragile yet environmentally rich.
The interior of the disused terminal of the former Nicosia International Airport, located in the UN-controlled buffer zone in Cyprus, pictured here in February 2012. | Dickelbers / Wikimedia Commons
In the meantime, UN regulations continue to restrict unauthorized activity, and permit frameworks remain in place. But without long-term planning, those protections could vanish overnight.
