Brookings: Experts - Jane McAdam

Pacific Islanders Lead Nansen Initiative Consultation on Cross-Border Displacement from Natural Disasters and Climate Change

Jane McAdam — Thu, 30 May 2013 10:00:00 -0400

Like its neighbors in the Pacific, the Cook Islands is no stranger to severe natural disasters. Pacific island countries are highly susceptible to increasingly frequent and extreme events, such as cyclones, tsunamis and landslides, as well as the slower-onset effects of climate change, such as rising sea levels, increased temperatures and coastal erosion.

Last week I was privileged to attend the first-ever regional consultation of the Nansen Initiative on Disaster-Induced Cross-Border Displacement, held in the Cook Islands in the Pacific. The consultation, hosted by the Prime Minister of the Cook Islands, brought together government officials from ten Pacific countries, as well as representatives from regional and international organizations, academia and civil society.

The issue of cross-border migration is always a sensitive one, and even more so when the prospective, permanent movement of whole communities is contemplated. While a key message from the meeting was that Pacific peoples wish to remain in their homes for as long as possible, there was recognition that some displacement and migration is inevitable. As the Prime Minister of the Cook Islands observed: ‘If we fail to plan, then we plan to fail.’

But while Pacific island countries are some of the most vulnerable to natural disasters and the impacts of climate change, especially in the longer-term, there was a striking focus on ‘self-help:’ the need to strengthen community resilience, raise awareness and increase preparedness. Participants identified initiatives at the community, national, regional and international levels that would facilitate adaptation and enable people to remain in their homes for as long as possible, while also developing strategies to enhance mobility for those who wished to move.

A set of action points was presented to Pacific leaders, who undertook to take them to other regional fora and to work towards realizing concrete outcomes.

Participants identified the need to educate both at-risk and potential host communities about the prospect of population movements, and to ensure that communities could participate fully in consultations about possible relocation strategies. They noted that a key challenge in the Pacific relates to customary land tenure and the shortage of alienable, freehold land, and that safeguards would need to be developed to prevent and solve conflicts over land and resources.

Participants noted the importance of training and education within their countries to equip people with the skills to work abroad, as well as to contribute to their own society while they remained there. In this regard, they encouraged States to review their admission and immigration policies to enable voluntary migration at an early stage, as well as mechanisms for temporary and permanent protection for those displaced by natural disasters. They recommended that States review their citizenship laws to ensure that dual nationality was permitted, to help safeguard the cultural identity of those who migrate on a permanent basis. They called on Pacific countries to draw on lessons from past experience and existing good practices to develop normative frameworks to address the protection needs of displaced or relocated populations, and to ensure that the human rights of those who move are fully respected.

It was notable, although not at all surprising to those who know the region, that the idea of a new ‘climate refugee’ treaty was never raised as a desirable option. While this is an oft-championed outcome within academic discourse (predominantly in Europe and North America, but also in Australia), it is wholly removed from the needs and desires of the Pacific peoples for whom it is assumed to be a solution. The ‘climate refugee’ framework has no purchase in the Pacific because it does not fit with the kind of movement we are likely to see, nor the self-help approach that Pacific peoples advocate.

It is essential to listen to what Pacific islanders themselves are calling for, rather than to assume what they need. Too often the ‘solutions’ thought up by the international community do not match the identified needs on the ground, and if we fail to listen, then we will end up with ill-fitting policies and mechanisms. As one participant noted, the international community can help to provide the ingredients, but not the recipe.

Indeed, the importance of holding the meeting within the Pacific region cannot be underestimated. Those who came across the world could see just how vulnerable atolls are to sea-level rise, and could get a sense of the great cultural and linguistic diversity of Pacific islanders. This was not a meeting in which the Pacific featured as an abstract, stereotypical example but as the lived experiences, concerns and ideas of Pacific peoples – from government, the churches, international organizations and non-governmental organizations.

People came to the table with an open mind to share experiences, not to negotiate from political perspectives. Government ministers talked movingly about their personal experiences of searching for missing relatives in the wake of natural disasters. An elderly Banaban woman’s memories of her relocation to Fiji as an eight-year-old child revealed the on-going trauma of displacement when it is not properly planned.

Participants also spoke of the tremendous resilience of Pacific communities, the strength and support of kinship networks, and the importance and success of regional approaches to disaster risk reduction, early warning systems, and embracing migration as an adaptation strategy.

The Pacific consultation showed the importance not only of consulting communities, but of doing so within their own region. A critical mass of participants, operating within a familiar environment, meant that people felt more comfortable sharing their opinions with each other and with the representatives from the ‘international community’. The meeting structure was shaped in conjunction with the host government and took into account familiar participatory models to encourage discussion. Prayers were said at the beginning and end of each day’s gathering; there was spontaneous singing at the end of the meeting; the poignancy of individual experiences of tsunamis and cyclones was brought home by the fact we were next to the sea and could see the tsunami evacuation route signs dotted along the island’s coastline. There was less scope for intimidation by foreign surroundings and customs, rushed meeting schedules, or geographical disconnect between the meeting location and the focus of the dialogue. Here, the Pacific was the centre, not Geneva or New York.

The importance of place also cannot be underestimated for the policymakers from outside the Pacific who came to the meeting. The consultation brought to life issues which may be difficult to grasp without having experienced first-hand life on a small atoll. The diversity of culture, the sense of Pacific community and solidarity, the commonality of experience and the willingness to learn and share were striking. This is a great strength of the Nansen Initiative’s regional consultation approach. Without a systematic approach like this, there is a risk that regional concerns become diluted or homogenized to some abstract ‘universal’ experience, and with the loss of nuance comes the loss of appropriate interventions.

Authors

Jane McAdam

Image Source: © Handout . / Reuters

Creating New Norms? The Nansen Initiative on Disaster-Induced Cross-Border Displacement

Jane McAdam — Mon, 01 Apr 2013 00:00:00 -0400

Editor's Note: This article was originally published by APMEN.

In October last year, the Norwegian and Swiss governments launched the Nansen Initiative on Disaster-Induced Cross-Border Displacement. It aims to build a consensus on key principles and elements regarding the protection of persons displaced across borders in the context of natural disasters that sets the agenda for future action at domestic, regional and international levels. It marks a tentative first step towards international policymaking in this field.

The direct genesis of the Nansen Initiative was a joint pledge that Norway and Switzerland made at UNHCR’s Ministerial meeting in December 2011 to commemorate the 60th anniversary of the Refugee Convention and the 50th anniversary of the Convention on the Reduction of Statelessness. Throughout 2011, UNHCR had spearheaded efforts to get States to agree to the formulation of a global guiding framework on displacement relating to climate change and natural disasters. It had hoped that most States would make pledges to that effect at the December 2011 meeting. However, only five States did (Norway, Switzerland, Costa Rica, Germany and Mexico).

It became very clear that States wanted to retain control over any developments in the protection space, and were prepared only to take tentative steps (if any at all). The Nansen Initiative, which will be operational from 2013 to 2015, is designed to promote a bottom-up approach to the issue.

First, a series of sub-regional consultations will be conducted to gather more information about the varying challenges faced – as well as good practices adopted – in different parts of the world. They will focus on the various phases of displacement: preparedness prior to displacement, protection and assistance during displacement, and solutions following displacement. The first consultation is to be held in the South Pacific in May this year. In identifying standards of treatment and good practices relating to cross-border displacement in the context of natural disasters, the meeting will also focus on issues of particular pertinence in the Pacific, such as customary land laws, the protection of cultural heritage and identity, and the impacts of increased urbanization.

Secondly, through a global dialogue, the Nansen Initiative hopes to develop a non-binding "Protection Agenda" based on three pillars: international cooperation and solidarity; standards for the treatment of affected people regarding admission, stay, status; and operational responses, including funding mechanisms and responsibilities of international humanitarian and development actors. It is envisaged that the Protection Agenda will serve as "a framework for further normative, institutional and operational development at different levels."

While the Initiative’s approach may be criticized as too tentative, it seems to be the only feasible strategy at this point in time. As its Envoy, Professor Walter Kälin, explained at the first Consultative Committee meeting, an absence of sufficient knowledge about what happens on the ground would make it difficult at this stage to draft a set of guiding principles adequately reflecting realities, and there was of course the practical obstacle, namely "the difficulty of getting governments on board with the idea of producing a normative framework right away."

Although the Nansen Initiative is State-led, there is a strong emphasis on its being an open, dynamic, and inclusive process that will actively involve non-State stakeholders. It is co-chaired by Norway and Switzerland and overseen by a Steering Group including Australia, Bangladesh, Costa Rica, Germany, Kenya, Mexico and the Philippines. The composition of the Steering Group aims to ensure adequate and balanced representation from the Global North and South. A Consultative Committee comprised of representatives from relevant international organizations, NGOs, think tanks and academics informs and supports the process. The Envoy of the Chairmanship represents the Initiative and provide strategic advice, while a small Secretariat in Geneva provides logistical support.

The Nansen Initiative’s substantive focus is on disaster-induced cross-border displacement. It adopts the definition of disaster used by the UN’s humanitarian community: A serious disruption of the functioning of a community or a society involving widespread human, material, economic or environmental losses and impacts, which exceeds the ability of the affected community or society to cope using its own resources. Importantly, rather than conceptualizing a disaster as an event, the emphasis is instead on its consequences – the coping capacity of those affected. This is particularly important given the Initiative’s focus on both sudden-onset disasters (defined as hydro-meteorological hazards such as flooding, windstorms or mudslides, and geophysical hazards including earthquakes, tsunamis or volcano eruptions) and slow-onset disasters (defined as environmental degradation processes such as droughts and desertification, increased salinization, rising sea levels or thawing of permafrost). While the concept of a slow-onset disaster seems counterintuitive if one thinks of a disaster as an event that happens (like a flood or landslide), it makes sense when a disaster denotes diminished coping capacity.

However, slow-onset disasters only come within the ambit of the Initiative in their end phase (i.e. when droughts or rising sea levels create life-threatening situations), since this is when their effects may be very similar to those of sudden-onset disasters. The Initiative emphasizes that the relevant distinction should not be the character of the disaster but rather whether it triggers displacement understood as forced movement of persons as opposed to voluntary migration. In my view, this sits uncomfortably with scenarios where migration is a rational and desirable form of adaptation, such as in some small island States. Arguably, the greatest challenge lies in responding to the impacts of slower processes which pose risks to the sustainability of certain human settlements over the longer term. Without any sustained examination of what it means for migration to be a form of adaptation, it is inevitable that protection gaps will remain. It is crucial that the existence of the Initiative is not used as an excuse to delay policy development in these areas.

Of course, it remains to be seen precisely how States involved in the Initiative will conceptualize displacement and disasters, especially once the sub-regional consultations have highlighted the challenges faced in specific contexts (including in small island States). Could the idea of a creeping disaster be one way of incorporating anticipatory movement as a protection response? As the Initiative has already acknowledged, the legal challenge will be to identify the tipping point where the basically voluntary movement of persons turns into forced movement. Since, operationally, there may be considerable overlap between the two, it will be necessary to ensure that people displaced as a result of slow-onset disasters also receive protection and assistance.

Authors

Jane McAdam

Publication: Asian-Pacific Migration and Environment Network

Image Source: © NASA NASA / Reuters

Disappearing States?

Jane McAdam — Sat, 30 Mar 2013 00:00:00 -0400

The ‘disappearing State’ or ‘sinking island’ phenomenon has become a litmus test for the dramatic impacts of climate change on human society. Atlantis-style predictions of whole countries disappearing beneath the waves raise fascinating legal issues that go to the heart of the rules on the creation and extinction of States. These rules have never been tested in this way before. But while the potential loss of territory for environmental reasons is novel, much of this deliberation is taking place in the abstract. Underlying assumptions about why, when, whether, and how States might ‘disappear’, and the consequences, do not always sit comfortably with the empirical evidence. The danger is that this may lead to well-intentioned, but ultimately misguided, responses.

The criteria for statehood under international law are four-fold: a defined territory, a permanent population, an effective government, and the capacity to enter into relations with other States. While all four criteria would seemingly need to be present for a State to come into existence, the absence of all four does not necessarily mean that a State has ceased to exist. This derives from the strong presumption of continuity of States in international law, which presumes that existing States continue even when some of the formal criteria of statehood start to wane.

In the context of climate change, it is often assumed that sea-level rise will ultimately inundate the territory of certain low-lying island countries, thus rendering it uninhabitable. It is true that small low-lying island States are particularly vulnerable to climate change impacts, including loss of coastal land and infrastructure due to erosion, inundation, sea-level rise and storm surges; an increase in the frequency and severity of cyclones, creating risks to life, health and homes; loss of coral reefs, with attendant implications for food security and the ecosystems on which many islanders’ livelihoods depend; changing rainfall patterns, leading to flooding in some areas, drought in others, and threats to fresh water supplies; salt-water intrusion into agricultural land; and extreme temperatures.

However, the focus on loss of territory as the indicator of a State’s ‘disappearance’ may be misplaced. Low-lying atoll countries are likely to become uninhabitable as a result of diminished water supplies long before they physically disappear. In October 2011, for example, Tuvalu declared a state of emergency because of severe water shortages, necessitating an urgent humanitarian response (temporary desalination plants, rehydration packs, technical support, and water supplies) from Australia and New Zealand.

In international law terms, then, the absence of population, rather than territory, may be the first signal that an entity no longer displays the full indicia of statehood. But where would people go, and what would their legal status be?

Movement away from small island States is likely to be slow and gradual, rather than triggered by a sudden event. Although migration has long been a natural human adaptation strategy to environmental variability, the legal (and sometimes physical) barriers to entry imposed by States today considerably restrict people’s ability to move.

If people seek to enter another country without permission to do so, they may find themselves in a very precarious legal position, potentially without work rights, basic health care, or social services. They will generally not meet the legal definition of ‘refugee’, which requires a person to show a well-founded fear of persecution for reasons of a particular attribute (such as religion or political opinion). Nor is it clear that they will benefit from complementary protection under human rights law (non-return to a risk to life or inhuman or degrading treatment) — although the more debilitated the home environment, the better chance they will have. Finally, it is unlikely that they would be recognized as stateless persons, since that legal definition is deliberately restricted to people who are ‘not considered as a national by any State under the operation of its law’. Whether or not this could be met may depend in part on whether the ‘State’ is considered still to exist. In any event, though, the statelessness treaties are poorly ratified and few States have statelessness determination procedures in place or a protective legal status for such people.

The relocation of whole communities has been raised from time to time as a solution for small island States. But this is an option of last resort for most, and one which should be treated with considerable caution. This is because there is much more to relocation than simply securing territory. Apart from fundamental issues about identity and self-determination, those who move need to know that they can remain and re-enter the new country, enjoy work rights and health rights there, have access to social security if necessary and be able to maintain their culture and traditions, and also what the legal status of children born there would be. There is also the question of how to balance the human rights of relocating groups with those of the communities into which they move. The effects of dislocation from home can last for generations and have significant ramifications for the maintenance and enjoyment of cultural and social rights by resettled communities. That is clear from the situation of the Banabans on Rabi, who were relocated in 1945 from present-day Kiribati to Fiji.

This is why a key policy objective of some small island States is to enhance existing migration options to developed countries in the region. Managed migration is a safer mechanism for enabling people to move away from the longer-term effects of climate change, without artificially treating people as in need of international ‘protection’ (from a persecutory State). It can play an important role in livelihood diversification and risk management strategies. Furthermore, given that one of the biggest problems for small island States is overpopulation, increased migration could help to relieve population and resource pressure. This may mean that a smaller population could remain on the territory for longer.

Authors

Jane McAdam

Publication: Oxford University Press Blog

Image Source: © Bob Strong / Reuters

Relocation Across Borders: A Prescient Warning in the Pacific

Jane McAdam — Fri, 15 Mar 2013 00:00:00 -0400

Editor's Note: This piece is adapted from the author’s article, 'Caught Between Homelands,’ which originally appeared in Inside Story.

The possibility of moving entire Pacific island communities is often raised in discussions about the impacts of climate change, but it is usually assumed to be a novel, even futuristic idea. However, almost 70 years ago, in quite different circumstances, two island communities were relocated across international borders to new homes in other Pacific islands. In December 1945 the population of the island of Banaba (also known as Ocean Island) in present-day Kiribati was moved to Rabi island in Fiji on account of on-going phosphate mining by the British Phosphate Commission, a joint British, Australian and New Zealand enterprise. Two years later, in October 1947, part of the population of Vaitupu, an island of present-day Tuvalu, bought and settled another Fijian island, Kioa, coincidentally close to Rabi.

A major difference between the two cases, which has undoubtedly impacted enormously on the subsequent development of the two communities, is the degree of choice involved. The Banabans say they were forced to move, whereas the Vaitupuans made the decision themselves. When I recently interviewed some of the original settlers and their descendents on Rabi and Kioa, they offered important insights into the potential effects of any future efforts to resettle Pacific populations. Their experiences provide some of the best evidence we have about the likely conceptual and pragmatic challenges of relocation in the context of climate change.

But the migrations to Rabi and Kioa are rare cases of whole communities moving to “empty islands” in another country to create a new home, administered by a community-run local council.

Mobility is a feature of Pacific history. For centuries, islanders have moved in response to changing environmental, political or social conditions. During the colonial period, the government of the Gilbert and Ellice Islands Colony (which became Kiribati and Tuvalu in the late 1970s) pursued a formal policy of resettlement because of “land hunger”. Groups of islanders were sent to “colonise” parts of the Solomon Islands, for example, where they gradually integrated into the local community. But the migrations to Rabi and Kioa are rare cases of whole communities moving to “empty islands” in another country to create a new home, administered by a community-run local council.

Soon after A-grade phosphate was discovered on Ocean Island in 1900, mining began. Within a decade, the Pacific Phosphate Company (later the British Phosphate Commission) was agitating to have the Banabans relocated from their homeland so that the island could be mined more efficiently and extensively. By the time mining operations ceased in 1979, twenty-one million tons of phosphate had been removed – thirteen million tons of it scattered across the farms of Australia. The Banabans received a 15 per cent share of the profit.

Almost all of the official records in these early years acknowledged the Banabans’ right to remain in their traditional homeland and benefit from the proceeds of any resources taken. However, in the communication that was to secure their fate, the colonial administration noted that while it would be “repugnant” to “evict a native tribe” simply “to afford wider opportunity of gain to a rich commercial corporation,” in this case the greater good of the empire was at stake. “Indeed,” wrote Britain’s high commissioner for the Western Pacific, C.H. Rodwell, in 1919, “the interests of the Empire seem to demand that the process of development on Ocean Island should be allowed to continue until the whole island is worked out.”

Yet it was not until after the Japanese occupation of the Ocean Island in World War Two that the Banabans finally moved. They were informed by the colonial authorities that their homeland had been rendered uninhabitable and another island had been found for them in Fiji – Rabi.

In fact, the colonial government had purchased Rabi in 1942 with the proceeds of Banaban mining royalties, following protracted negotiations with Banaban elders. Although the elders had resisted relocation for decades, in 1940 they began to agitate for a “new home, Banaba No. 2”. They were worried that “the younger generation of Banabans was growing up in too Europeanised an atmosphere and that, if they were to preserve their racial identity and culture, it was necessary to continue that culture elsewhere.” For this reason, they desired a new home where they could “resume native cultivation, mat-making and fishing.” They stressed that this new place would not be a replacement for Banaba, but rather a second home.

The majority of the population was relocated to Rabi in December 1945. They landed in the middle of hurricane season and had to live in canvas tents beside the beach, with only two months’ rations and little knowledge of how to plant the island and become self-sufficient. The move was to be for a two-year trial period, and if they then chose to return to Banaba they could do so free of charge. The colonial administrators thought it unlikely that they would choose to remain on Rabi permanently. The decision to grant the Banabans a degree of autonomy in managing their affairs on Rabi, with “as nearly as possible the same Government organisation and powers of self-Government as they enjoyed and were used to in Ocean Island”, was a key factor in their decision to stay.

The degree to which the Banabans gave informed consent to their ultimate move to Rabi is unclear. Banabans today say that they were misled about where they were going and what they could expect on arrival. They articulate a complex story about loss of homeland, deprivation of resources and the destruction of identity. At its heart, the story is about the loss of self-determination and the power to shape one’s destiny.

When Kiribati became independent in 1979, the colonial authorities determined that Banaba would remain part of its territory. This was (and remains) a point of great contention. Although Kiribati’s constitution gives the Banabans a special status, with guaranteed parliamentary representation, an “inalienable right to enter and reside in Banaba,” and a veto power over any constitutional amendments relating to their interests, most Banabans don’t regard themselves as I-Kiribati and view the relationship with Kiribati as an uneasy one. Many say that they should be independent, and from time to time they have agitated to have Banaba Island recognised as an independent State.

The story of Kioa is very different. Not only did the Kioans choose to move, but only a part of the community relocated. During World War Two, some of the men from the Kioans’ home island of Vaitupu in Tuvalu assisted the American military in the Pacific. At the end of the war, they decided to pool their war savings to invest for the benefit of the Vaitupuan community as a whole. A New Zealander who had been a school teacher on Vaitupu suggested that they purchase Kioa in Fiji as an insurance policy against overpopulation and land scarcity.

I spoke to the sole remaining survivor from the original group of settlers, eighty-eight-year-old Siapo Paka. She explained that at first, no one wanted to move. Eventually, thirty-five people volunteered to undertake the journey. In the first years of settlement, they had to clear the land, construct houses for each family group one by one, and eventually plant crops.

The Kioan story is one of community survival and pioneering spirit. They talk about the unity of their people and say that they have two homes — Kioa, the homeland, and Vaitupu, the motherland. Many people identify as both Fijian and Vaitupuan, whereas all the people I interviewed on Rabi described themselves as “Banaban”. Indeed, they typically distinguished between their formal citizenship (Fijian) and their sense of personal identity (Banaban). Perhaps because Vaitupu continues to sustain a large community, there is more openness among the Kioans towards adopting two identities.

Today, on both Kioa and Rabi, descendants of the relocated islanders acknowledge that their new Fijian homes provide abundant food and water, sustaining far larger populations than their home islands ever could. They also note that young people have access to better educational and economic opportunities.

However, founding narratives are central to the creation and maintenance of identity, and the extent to which relocation is forced or voluntary has a major impact on how a community understands itself and its relationship to the world. Even though everyone I interviewed recognised that everyday life was better in Fiji, the Banaban story is still marked by a history of injustice. One interviewee described a “psyche of injustice” that has been “burned into our memories.”

It is not difficult to imagine how a similar story of injustice could develop now, in the context of climate change, if the inhabitants of small island states are resettled elsewhere without extensive prior consultation, negotiation and compensation. The element of coercion is likely to entrench a sense of victimhood, injustice and disempowerment. If group relocations are to be considered in the future, then the rights of those affected (both in the sending and receiving countries) must be protected, and the legal status and organizational structures of the relocated group in the new country must be planned meticulously.

Authors

Jane McAdam

Image Source: © Reuters Photographer / Reuters

What Research on Climate Change and Human Mobility Can/Should Provide for Practitioners and Policy Makers

Wed, 26 Sep 2012 12:00:00 -0400

Event Information

September 26, 2012
12:00 PM - 1:30 PM EDT

Stein Room
Brookings Institution
1775 Massachusetts Avenue NW
Washington, DC

Research predicts that a warming climate will have major effects on human mobility. Some people will migrate, some are likely to be displaced and still others are likely to be relocated by their governments to avoid the effects of climate change. While the Foresight Report on Migration and Global Environmental Change (2011) tried to address many of these questions around human mobility, many gaps in research remain. What kind of research do policy-makers and practitioners need to prepare for the effects of climate change on mobility? How to researchers seek to respond to these needs?

As part of the Brookings-LSE Project on Internal Displacement’s climate change and human mobility roundtable series, this roundtable brought together researchers, policy makers and practitioners who deal with issues of climate change and human mobility to discuss the relationship between research, policy and practice. To get the discussion going experts from different fields to offered brief remarks.

Read the event report >>

Event Materials

Sept26_climate_roundtable_report

Participants

Panelists

Jane McAdam

Nonresident Senior Fellow, Foreign Policy, Brookings-LSE Project on Internal Displacement

Anita Malley

Acting Senior Displacement and Protection Policy Advisor

Alice Thomas

Climate Displacement Program Manager

Pacific Solution #2 Sparks Humanitarian Concerns

Jane McAdam, Daniel Ghezelbash and Mary Crock — Tue, 14 Aug 2012 00:00:00 -0400

However much the debate over irregular boat arrivals has been refocused by the shocking loss of life at sea, it is plain that domestic politics continue to motivate the main players.

Australians’ paroxysmal concern with refugee boats is potent electoral poison. The report by the expert panel on asylum seekers has provided the government with a face-saving measure to renege on its electoral promise not to re-open processing centres on Nauru or PNG, while encouraging the opposition to smugly assert that its policies have been given the green light. It just remains to be seen whether the opposition really does want to “stop the boats:” for it, the boats are an electoral blessing that facilitates a discourse on government neglect and incompetence.

Read the full article » (subscription required)

Authors

Jane McAdam
Daniel Ghezelbash
Mary Crock

Publication: Crikey

Image Source: Reuters

Rethinking Durable Solutions to Displacement in the Context of Climate Change

Megan Bradley and Jane McAdam — Mon, 14 May 2012 00:00:00 -0400

Displacement caused by conflict and human rights violations is typically resolved through the pursuit of three “durable solutions”: local integration, resettlement or voluntary return. It has often been assumed that durable solutions mark the end of mobility for refugees and internally displaced persons (IDPs). However, in recent years it has become clear that this assumption needs to be reconsidered. Even after the situations that forced them from their homes have been resolved, many former refugees and IDPs remain “on the move,” making choices that subvert the standard durable solutions framework. For instance, they may return periodically to their communities of origin while maintaining permanent residence in a resettlement country, or they may become migrant workers in other countries. The traditional trio of durable solutions may also need to be reconsidered in light of the challenges posed by climate change. In the following piece, we provide some brief reflections on the ways in which displacement linked to climate change may test some of the principles underpinning the durable solutions framework, and necessitate new thinking about solutions to displacement.

Already, the systems in place for supporting solutions to displacement are hard pressed to deal with refugees and IDPs uprooted by persecution and other forms of serious harm. Many wait decades to access a safe and dignified solution to their displacement, due to factors such as lack of political support for local integration, insufficient resettlement opportunities, and persistent insecurity and under-development in return communities. The pressures on the existing solutions framework are likely to increase as the effects of climate change start to influence people’s decisions to move away from their homes. While it is difficult to attribute movement solely to the impacts of climate change, it is clear that increasing numbers of people are already being displaced by disasters, such as major hurricanes and floods, whose severity and frequency are likely to increase with global warming. Slower-onset environmental processes, such as desertification, are also likely to be exacerbated by changes to the climate. Researchers expect that the majority of those uprooted by climate change-related phenomena will become internally displaced. A much smaller number of people, such as those from small island states, may be compelled to seek shelter in other countries. Since they will not qualify as refugees under international law, it is an open question whether the discourse and logic of “durable solutions” will be applied to them. In our view, it may prove more useful to focus on facilitating managed migration opportunities for those who cannot remain in their homes. This applies both to internal movement (for example, by national governments developing planned rural–urban migration schemes in consultation with affected communities), as well to international movement (for example, through the establishment of “merits-based migration” programs for citizens of small island states who wish to move preemptively, as advocated by the President of Kiribati). Indeed, the possibility of planning managed migration opportunities in advance of displacement linked to the effects of climate change sets these movements apart from many forced migration flows sparked by conflict and human rights abuses. For the present, however, it is useful to consider the ways in which the current durable solutions framework may be challenged by both internal displacement and cross-border migration associated with climate change.

A declining role for return?

Voluntary return is often portrayed by governments, UNHCR and other international actors as the “preferred” solution to displacement. Although this preference is not always shared by refugees and IDPs themselves, since the end of the Cold War voluntary return has undoubtedly become the predominant solution to refugee crises, with fourteen refugees returning to their countries of origin for each individual resettled between 1998 and 2008. Even though refugee repatriation rates have declined in recent years, IDP returns are on the rise, and for a range of reasons return tends to be privileged as the preferred solution. Why is this the case?

The reasons for privileging return range from intolerant desires to clear out unwelcome populations, to more rights-based stances premised on recognition of the right of return in international instruments such as the Universal Declaration of Human Rights (article 13(2)), the International Covenant on Civil and Political Rights (ICCPR) (article 12(4)), and the Guiding Principles on Internal Displacement (Principle 28(1)). Enabling the return of refugees and IDPs to their homes may also be seen as an important form of redress for the “wrong” of displacement.[1] Yet it is clear that return may simply be a less relevant, if not impossible, solution for many of those displaced by disasters or processes connected to climate change. For the citizens of small island states, return may be untenable if fresh water supplies are no longer sustainable (for instance, last year Tuvalu declared a state of emergency on account of severe water shortages), and physically impossible if their territories are eventually inundated. In other cases, while people displaced from areas vulnerable to flooding, mudslides or riverbank erosion may wish to return to their homes (and at present often do so), the risk of exposure to further disasters may mean that a responsible durable solutions policy would require the promotion of permanent resettlement elsewhere instead of return. At times, secure returns may only be viable at great expense, with the construction of barriers against floods and other infrastructure necessary to mitigate the risk of disasters. Who bears the responsibility to fund such measures? Is it the role of national governments, the “international community”, or states that have contributed the most to climate change? There is, at the very least, an ethical dilemma if the durable solutions framework can contemplate return for refugees and IDPs uprooted by conflicts, but not for those displaced from environmentally-vulnerable areas simply on account of the resources that would be required to make this solution safe and sustainable.

While displacement linked to climate change raises new questions about the role of return as a solution, it also generates related questions about how displacement may best be redressed. In recent years, thousands of refugees and IDPs have benefitted from the work of property restitution commissions, through which they have regained their lost homes and lands. Some advocates involved in these processes have argued that just as return is the “preferred” solution to displacement, restitution is the “preferred” form of redress for displacement. This is largely because of the contribution that the restoration of displaced persons’ property rights may make to enabling sustainable returns.[2] The relevance of restitution as a remedy for displacement will undoubtedly come into question in cases where displaced persons’ homes and lands have been lost to inundation or erosion, or are otherwise no longer habitable. Financial compensation may be provided as an alternative form of redress for the loss of land, but it is clear that money cannot substitute for the loss of home and identity, nor for any loss of self-determination on communities’ traditional territory. Determining which actors have the responsibility to compensate those displaced in connection with the effects of climate change also raises thorny legal, moral and political questions that have yet to be resolved.

The increasing relevance of resettlement and planned relocation

In the context of the current durable solutions framework, resettlement has become an “extra-ordinary” solution used primarily in cases where refugees face particular protection needs that cannot be addressed in their country of asylum, and other durable solutions are not available. Demand for resettlement far outstrips supply, with UNHCR requesting resettlement for more than 108,000 refugees in 2010, but only 73,000 departing to resettlement countries. For IDPs displaced by conflict, opportunities to be resettled to third countries are virtually non-existent, while support for resettlement to other communities within their countries is often very limited and ad hoc. However, resettlement of displaced populations and the related process of planned relocation may become increasingly relevant in the context of displacement linked to the effects of climate change. Responding effectively to climate change-related displacement will necessitate moving from a reactive approach—responding to displacement that has already occurred—to a proactive approach, whereby movement is planned in close consultation with members of the affected communities, including those who have been displaced, those at risk of displacement, and members of the (prospective) host community. It will also require careful analysis of the lessons that may be learnt from experiences of development-related relocation and resettlement (when communities are moved to make way for projects such as the construction of dams or roads).[3]

While it is commonly thought that climate impacts will render small island states such as Kiribati and Tuvalu uninhabitable, there remains considerable uncertainty about the extent to which adaptation measures—including voluntary migration as a form of adaptation—will enable at least a small population to remain. “Durable solutions” in this context need to be more nuanced than the traditional three described above. In particular, movement is unlikely to be in the nature of refugee “flight” but rather pre-emptive—in anticipation of slow-onset changes which may ultimately render the continued habitation of a territory untenable. This raises different challenges for governments and other actors interested in supporting durable solutions, in particular how to create solutions that enable people to move in advance of immediate danger. While some advocates have suggested that displaced islanders should have the opportunity to be relocated to more secure locations, states are highly unlikely to formally cede territory to them. Although Kiribati is presently in negotiations with Fiji about purchasing an island to which its citizens could move, this would be a private property transaction and people could only relocate if they independently met the requirements of Fijian immigration law. Without acquiring Fijian citizenship, they would remain subject to removal, as there is no obligation under international law for states to shelter those who are displaced across borders by disasters or processes linked to climate change. Furthermore, they may not be accepted on an equal status by the host community. For instance, the Banaban islanders from Kiribati, who were relocated to Rabi island in Fiji in the 1950s when their island was mined for phosphate, still claim that they are discriminated against in Fiji and are not afforded the same opportunities as indigenous Fijians. This example speaks to the fundamental need to engage affected communities in early and meaningful consultation, and for governments to be open to proactive migration opportunities, rather than deferring to remedial protection once displacement has occurred.

The role of local integration

Particularly when return migration is not a viable option, governments will need to facilitate solutions that enable people to integrate into the communities into which they move, whether they are in their own countries or another state. Effective integration support requires ensuring that those who have recently arrived can access their legal rights and important social services. Since much of the population movement associated with climate change is (already) rural to urban, governments need to carefully develop urban planning schemes which ensure that the necessary infrastructure is put in place to support enlarged cities. In the absence of forward-looking local integration plans, it is likely that there will be a considerable growth of urban slums, as has already been observed in Bangladesh. Lessons from efforts to support the local integration of populations displaced by conflict and human rights abuses may be a valuable source of insight as integration plans are developed.

Supporting solutions

As humanitarians, human rights advocates, policymakers and researchers rethink frameworks for supporting solutions to displacement in light of the challenges posed by climate change, it will be essential to emphasize equity and even-handedness. These qualities increase the efficacy and popular acceptance of strategies to resolve displacement, and are an essential part of a rights-based approach to this issue. Conceptually and practically, it is generally impossible to identify those who have been displaced by the effects of “climate change” per se, since these always interact with pre-existing vulnerabilities (whether political, economic, social or environmental). It is particularly challenging to determine who amongst this group may be in need of—or have a claim to—special assistance in securing a solution to their displacement. Some individuals and families may be able to craft their own solutions, such as integrating into more secure communities where they have existing ties. Others may be less able to do so, due to factors such as age, infirmity, and access to financial resources, and may therefore need more support from actors such as governments and humanitarian agencies. Determining how to equitably distribute inevitably limited support for durable solutions is always a complex prospect, but this challenge will only become more acute as displacement linked to climate change increases. It must be met with a commitment to equitably consider the needs of not only the displaced, but also the communities that receive them, and be underscored by the fundamental principles of humanity and non-discrimination. At the same time, it must be recognized that while the durable solutions framework may structure efforts to support the resolution of displacement, there is no one-size-fits-all answer to these challenges.[4] Just as in cases of displacement caused by conflict and persecution, tailored solutions must be developed in close consultation with affected communities.

[1] See United Nations Basic Principles and Guidelines on the Right to a Remedy and Reparation for Victims of Gross Violations of International Human Rights Law and Serious Violations of International Humanitarian Law (Article IX(19)) and Megan Bradley, Refugee repatriation: Justice, responsibility and redress. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, forthcoming.

[2] S. Leckie, “New Housing, Land and Property Restitution Rights,” Forced Migration Review 25 (2006), p. 52, Centre on Housing Rights and Evictions (COHRE), “UN to Adopt Pathbreaking New Global Standard which Demands Return of Confiscated Refugee Land and Housing,” Media Release, 11 August 2005.

[3] E. Ferris, “Protection and Planned Relocations in the Context of Climate Change”, UNHCR Legal and Protection Policy Research Series (forthcoming).

[4] For a detailed discussion, see J. McAdam (2012) Climate Change, Forced Migration, and International Law (Oxford: Oxford University Press).

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Climate Change, Forced Migration, and International Law

Jane McAdam — Wed, 11 Apr 2012 00:00:00 -0400

This blog post was originally published in IntLawGrrls Blog.

Four years ago, when I embarked on the research project that led to my book Climate Change, Forced Migration, and International Law, just published by Oxford University Press, there was a rather scant literature on the impacts of climate change on human movement. Much of what did exist, particularly in the field of international law, was based on academic analysis of existing international law frameworks, especially refugee law, and assumptions about the nature and scale of displacement – largely because of the absence at that time of comprehensive empirical studies.

My objective was to map the degree to which existing international legal frameworks could already cater for the protection needs of people displaced by the impacts of climate change, and, perhaps more crucially, to identify the extent to which ‘climate change’ could be isolated as the cause of predicted widespread movement – and whether that mattered in terms of finding legal solutions.

This book critically examines whether states have obligations to protect people displaced by climate change under international refugee law, international human rights law, and the international law on statelessness. It evaluates:

Whether the phenomenon of ‘climate change-induced displacement’ is an empirically sound category for academic inquiry by examining the reasons why people move (or choose not to move or are unable to move);
The extent to which climate change, as opposed to underlying socio-economic factors, provides a trigger for such movement; and
Whether traditional international responses, such as the conclusion of new treaties and the creation of new institutions, are appropriate solutions in this context.

In this way, the book queries whether flight from habitat destruction should be viewed as another facet of traditional international protection or as a new challenge requiring more creative legal and policy responses.

What makes it distinctive from an international law perspective is that it is grounded in fieldwork in some of the states most affected by the impacts of climate change: the small island states of Kiribati and Tuvalu in the western Pacific, and Bangladesh and India. Drawing on empirical evidence collected through interviews and observations on the ground, it reconceptualizes the phenomenon of ‘climate change-related displacement’ to emphasize the needs and desires of affected communities, the importance of community participation, and the necessity of multi-pronged approaches rather than a one-size-fits-all response, so that legal and policy developments are attuned to the groups they are intended to serve. If such contributions are not fed into the debate, we may end up with solutions that work neatly in theory, but which do not respond to the likely patterns of movement on the ground. Crucially, law and policy in this area must be developed within a human rights framework, underscored by broader humanitarian norms such as the fundamental principles of humanity, human dignity, human rights and international cooperation.

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The Normative Framework of Climate Change-Related Displacement

Jane McAdam — Tue, 03 Apr 2012 00:00:00 -0400

Editor's Note: This paper was prepared for the event "Addressing the Legal Gaps in Climate Change Migration, Displacement and Resettlement: From Sinking Islands to Flooded Deltas" at the Brookings Institution on April 3, 2012.

A. Introduction

According to the UN Emergency Relief Coordinator, more frequent and severe disasters may be ‘the new normal’.[1] On top of this, slower onset impacts of climate change, such as temperature rises, glacial melt, drought, and sea-level rise may ultimately force people away from their homes. The UN High Commissioner for Refugees has said that ‘while the nature of forced displacement is rapidly evolving, the responses available to the international community have not kept pace.’[2]

Although there is a lot that we don’t know about the future movement of people on account of climate impacts, how can the things we do know help us identify the legal gaps in the existing international protection regime, and develop legal and policy responses that are adequately attuned to the needs of those who are likely to move. This means having a sufficiently nuanced understanding of the likely nature, timing and scale of such movement.

While the concept of ‘environmental’ or ‘climate change’ refugees may provide a useful advocacy tool to generate attention and mobilize civil society around the dangers of global warming, it can also contribute to misunderstandings about the likely patterns, timescale, and nature of climate change-related movement. Even as a merely descriptive term, the ‘climate change refugee’ label is at best pre-emptive, and at worst offensive to those to whom it is ascribed. For example, in the small Pacific island States of Kiribati and Tuvalu, it is seen as invoking a sense of helplessness and a lack of dignity. As the President of Kiribati told me, ‘when you talk about refugees—climate refugees—you’re putting the stigma on the victims, not the offenders.’[3] ‘We don’t want to lose our dignity. We’re sacrificing much by being displaced, in any case. So we don’t want to lose that, whatever dignity is left. So the last thing we want to be called is ‘refugee’. We’re going to be given as a matter of right something that we deserve, because they’ve taken away what we have.’[4]

As a matter of law, the term ‘refugee’ is a legal term of art. The 1951 Refugee Convention defines a refugee is someone with a well-founded fear of persecution for reasons of race, religion, nationality, political opinion or membership of a particular social group. There are a number of hurdles here in translating this to the climate displacement context. First, there are difficulties in characterizing ‘climate change’ as ‘persecution’. Though adverse climate impacts such as rising sea-levels and increases in the frequency and severity of storms, cyclones, floods are harmful, they do not meet the threshold of ‘persecution’ as this is currently understood in law, which normally requires human agency. If anything, the ‘persecutor’ here is industrialized States, whose failure to cut greenhouse gas emissions has led to the predicament now being faced[5] – the very countries to which movement might be sought if the land becomes unsustainable, which is a complete reversal of the traditional refugee paradigm.

Secondly, even if the impacts of climate change could be characterized as ‘persecution’, it would be very difficult to show this was for reasons of one of the five Refugee Convention grounds, since the impacts of climate change are largely indiscriminate, rather than tied to particular characteristics such as a person’s background or beliefs. Finally, refugee law only applies to people who have already crossed an international border, not people merely contemplating a move.

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[1] Under-Secretary-General for Humanitarian Affairs and Emergency Relief Coordinator, ‘Opening Remarks at the Dubai International Humanitarian Aid and Development Conference and Exhibition “DIHAD 2008 Conference”’ (Dubai, 8 April 2008) http://www.reliefweb.int/rw/rwb.nsf/db900sid/YSAR-7DHL88?OpenDocument (accessed 18 January 2010).

[2] ‘Statement by Mr António Guterres, United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees, Intergovernmental Meeting at Ministerial Level to Mark the 60th Anniversary of the 1951 Convention relating to the Status of Refugees and the 50th Anniversary of the 1961 Convention on the Reduction of Statelessness’ (Geneva, 7 December 2011) http://www.unhcr.org/4ecd0cde9.html (accessed 2 April 2012).

[3] Interview with President Anote Tong, President of Kiribati (Tarawa, Kiribati, 12 May 2009).

[4] Ibid.

[5] See IPCC, Climate Change: The IPCC Scientific Assessment, 8 (fn omitted); IPCC, Climate Change 2007: Synthesis Report, 5, 6, 12, 13.

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Addressing the Legal Gaps in Climate Change Migration, Displacement and Resettlement: From Sinking Islands to Flooded Deltas

Tue, 03 Apr 2012 10:00:00 -0400

Event Information

April 3, 2012
10:00 AM - 11:30 AM EDT

Falk Auditorium
The Brookings Institution
1775 Massachusetts Ave., NW
Washington, DC

Large numbers of people are expected to leave their homes and communities in the coming years because of the effects of climate change. Some will leave as a result of the increasing severity and frequency of sudden-onset disasters. Others will move as long-term processes of environmental degradation intensify, including desertification and rising sea levels. Still others are likely to be relocated by their governments when the areas where they live are declared uninhabitable. While much remains unknown about the scale, timing and nature of such population movements, it seems clear that present normative frameworks will be inadequate to deal with large-scale future movements of people as a result of climate change. Are new international treaties or guiding principles needed for climate change-induced displacement, migration and resettlement?

On April 3, the Brookings-LSE Project on Internal Displacement hosted a discussion on the gaps in present normative frameworks and the pros and cons of coming up with new instruments for climate change displacement, migration and resettlement. Panelists included Brookings Nonresident Senior Fellow Jane McAdam, Senior Fellow Elizabeth Ferris, co-director of the Brookings-LSE Project on Internal Displacement and Michele Klein Solomon, permanent observer of the International Organization for Migration to the United Nations. Vincent Cochetel, representative from the UN High Commissioner for Refugees, moderated the discussion.

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Moderator

Vincent Cochetel

Representative to the United States and the Caribbean
Office of the UN High Commissioner for Refugees

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Michele Klein Solomon

Permanent Observer to the United Nations
International Organization for Migration

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