A number of commentators – including one in the Guardian this week – have suggested that refugee law and protections should be extended to include people affected by climate change. But many Pacific islanders explicitly reject the idea of “climate refugee” status.
On the face of it, that seems like a strange decision. Kiribati’s president Anote Tong has predicted that rising sea levels will make the island nation uninhabitable in 30-60 years. Aren’t many Pacific islands facing climate impacts that mean their citizens will have to move?
Despite that, last week President Tong told ABC News:
“I have never encouraged the status of our people being refugees … We have to acknowledge the reality that with the rising sea, the land area available for our populations will be considerably reduced and we cannot accommodate all of them, so some of them have to go somewhere, but not as refugees.”
There are a number of reasons why “climate refugee” status does not make sense for people who might have to move.
Legally, the idea of a “climate refugee” is contentious. It currently has no standing in international law. And even if it did, the concept would be fraught with problems.
When people move because of the impacts of climate change, they tend to move within their own country. This is clear from testimonies of people fleeing recent disasters in the Philippines:
“I lost one of my grandchildren and my younger sister. Early the next morning, rescue workers came with boats and they took us to an evacuation centre.” – ShelterBox / Reuters
“We were trapped in the house for two days until someone came and rescued us in a boat, and we were taken to the local gymnasium which was being used as an evacuation centre. We stayed there for a week but it was so crowded that we decided to leave and go back to the ruins of our house.” – ReliefWeb
These testimonies are a good illustration of the evidence on movement during disasters. People move very short distances, without crossing international borders and often return to their homes as soon as possible. A modified Refugee Convention would be of no use to them.
Slowly unfolding disasters like droughts, changing rainfall and desertification create different patterns of movement. It is often internal, and often from the countryside to cities. When people do cross a border, it is often to find work. Although climate change might be among the factors causing their movement, their primary motivator is employment. For many this can be a vital escape route. Though many see the situation in cities as being equally desperate to the situations they are fleeing. Take this testimony is from a Colombian farmer affected by changing rainfall patterns:
Rains recently have been very intense – very intense… We don’t want to leave our land: here are our past, our memories, our ancestors. We don’t want to move to other parts, we don’t know what to do there. We would turn into delinquents. We’d enter into a cycle of poverty which happens in the cities.
Protecting these people means two things: making sure they can move to find work legally if they want to, and making sure the places and work are safe. In these requirements lie a much bigger question of urban development that cannot be fixed by altering the Refugee Convention.
Rightly or wrongly the term “refugee” conjures powerful images. Tended camps; people moving in urgent distress; leaving their homes and walking huge distances. Powerful photos of the Za’arti refugee camp in Syria spring to mind when you say the word “refugee.” In the Pacific, it also brings to mind images of people making desperate ocean crossing to gain entry to Australia. The media is awash with photos of people huddled in small boats. The desperation and drama is inescapable.
Across the world, refugees encounter racism and discrimination. Host governments often do little to challenge this. In the UK, we continue to imprison people seeking asylum. The rise of far-right parties across developed countries has fueled anti-refugee sentiment. In the Pacific, the Australian government has drawn sharp criticism from human rights campaigners and academics over its treatment of refugees and asylum seekers.
So the prospect of becoming a refugee comes with a lot of baggage. This is a tragic reality. But it explains why many people do not like the term “climate refugee” and why they do not see the creation of climate-refugee status as a good solution.
So what is the answer? Many civil society groups within the Pacific talk about migration with dignity. In practice, this can mean a number of things. It could involve planned relocation, where entire communities move together. Cultural practices, family connections and customs are maintained and the community is reestablished in a safer location. Or it can mean migration bit by bit and integration into new communities. Many people from Pacific island nations are already working and studying abroad. Some see the continuation of this trend as the solution.
As Ursula Rakova, an environmental campaigner from the Carteret Islands, puts it: “Our plan is one in which we remain as independent and self-sufficient as possible. We wish to maintain our cultural identity and live sustainably wherever we are.”
Alex Randall runs the Climate Change and Migration Coalition, a network of refugee and migration NGOs with a shared concern about climate change. He has written widely on migration and climate change issues and is lead author on the Moving Stories report.
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