• Identifying Climate Adaptive Solutions to Displacement in Somalia

    This assessment report created by Samuel Hall for IOM, UNEP, and the Directorate for Environment and Climate Change of the Somali Government explores the interactions between climate change, displacement and urbanisation. It answers two key questions in the context of the Somali cities of Baidoa and Kismayo: What factors trigger climate-induced migration? And what adaptive and transformative solutions may contribute to building resilience amid displacement and climate change – at both the community and policy levels?

    https://www.samuelhall.org/publications/iom-amp-unep-nbspidentifying-climate-adaptive-solutions-to-displacement-

    table des matières:

    #changement_climatique #Somalie #rapport #IDPs #déplacés_internes #réfugiés_environnementaux #réfugiés_climatiques

  • La Face cachée des #énergies_vertes

    Voitures électriques, éoliennes, panneaux solaires… La transition énergétique laisse entrevoir la promesse d’un monde plus prospère et pacifique, enfin libéré du pétrole, de la pollution et des pénuries. Mais cette thèse officielle s’avère être un mythe : en nous libérant des combustibles fossiles, nous nous préparons à une nouvelle dépendance à l’égard des métaux rares. De graves problèmes écologiques et économiques pour l’approvisionnement de ces ressources stratégiques ont déjà commencé. Et si le « monde vert » qui nous attend se révélait être un nouveau cauchemar ?

    http://www.film-documentaire.fr/4DACTION/w_fiche_film/61421_1

    #film #film_documentaire #documentaire

    #COP21 #COP_21 #transition_énergétique #technologie #technologies_vertes #voiture_électrique #énergies_propres #extractivisme #mines #green-washing #greenwashing #délocalisation_de_la_pollution #pétrole #métaux_rares #néodyme #cobalt #graphite #lithium #photovoltaïque #énergie_solaire #énergie_éolienne #éolienne #solaire #dépendance #RDC #République_démocratique_du_Congo #Australie #Chili #Bolivie #Indonésie #Chine #industrie_minière #Mongolie #Terres_rares #eaux_usées #radioactivité #réfugiés_des_technologies_vertes #eau #IDPs #déplacés_internes #cuivre #santé #Chuquicamata #cancer #Aliro_Boladas #centrales_à_charbon #modèle_économique_extractiviste #énergies_renouvelables #engie #Norvège #charbon #hypocrisie #green_tech #zéro_émissions #changement_climatique #Jean-Louis_Borloo #ADEME #Renault #bornes_électriques #Rapport_Syrota #Jean_Sirota #BYD #EDF #Photowatt #Péchiney_métallurgie #magnésium #nationalisme_des_ressources #Bolivie #recyclage #déchets #décharges_sauvages #Neocomp #fausse_transition #sobriété #progrès_technologique #décroissance #énergies_renouvelables

    –-

    déjà signalé par @odilon sur seenthis :
    https://seenthis.net/messages/888273

    • « La face positive des énergies vertes »

      Le documentaire « La face cachée des énergies vertes » est passé fin novembre sur Arte. Truffé d’erreurs et d’arguments partisans, allant jusqu’à comparer le problème des pales d’éoliennes, soit disant non recyclables, à celui posé par les déchets nucléaires !

      Autre exemple : ce documentaire assène que les énergies vertes et que les batteries nécessitent obligatoirement l’utilisation de terres rares. Ce n’est pourtant pas du tout l’avis de l’Ademe. D’autre part, le photovoltaïque n’utilise jamais de terres rares. Et pour l’éolien et les voitures électriques, leur utilisation dans les moteurs à aimants permanents permet de gagner en performances, mais cet usage n’est ni systématique, ni indispensable.

      Cet article présente :

      – La quinzaine d’erreurs grossières parmi les très nombreuses qui émaillent ce documentaire.
      – Le cercle vertueux du photovoltaïque et de l’éolien : plus on en installe, plus on réduit les émissions de gaz carbonique.
      – Que nos voitures contiennent davantage de terres rares que les voitures électriques sans moteurs à aimants permanents.
      – Pour qui roule le journaliste Guillaume Pitron, à l’origine de ce documentaire.

      En se fondant sur les avis qui se colportent, principalement sur la production des terres rares utilisées dans les énergies vertes, Guillaume Pitron, qui a enquêté dans une douzaine de pays, nous fait visiter quelques sites d’exploitation qui portent atteinte à l’environnement et à la santé des travailleurs.

      Hélas ce documentaire est gâché autant par sa partialité, que par de très nombreuses erreurs grossières.

      https://www.passerelleco.info/article.php?id_article=2390
      https://seenthis.net/messages/894307

    • Geologic and anthropogenic sources of contamination in settled dust of a historic mining port city in northern Chile: health risk implications

      Chile is the leading producer of copper worldwide and its richest mineral deposits are found in the Antofagasta Region of northern Chile. Mining activities have significantly increased income and employment in the region; however, there has been little assessment of the resulting environmental impacts to residents. The port of Antofagasta, located 1,430 km north of Santiago, the capital of Chile, functioned as mineral stockpile until 1998 and has served as a copper concentrate stockpile since 2014. Samples were collected in 2014 and 2016 that show elevated concentrations of As, Cu, Pb, and Zn in street dust and in residents’ blood (Pb) and urine (As) samples. To interpret and analyze the spatial variability and likely sources of contamination, existent data of basement rocks and soil geochemistry in the city as well as public-domain airborne dust were studied. Additionally, a bioaccessibility assay of airborne dust was conducted and the chemical daily intake and hazard index were calculated to provide a preliminary health risk assessment in the vicinity of the port. The main conclusions indicate that the concentrations of Ba, Co, Cr, Mn, Ni, and V recorded from Antofagasta dust likely originate from intrusive, volcanic, metamorphic rocks, dikes, or soil within the city. However, the elevated concentrations of As, Cd, Cu, Mo, Pb, and Zn do not originate from these geologic outcrops, and are thus considered anthropogenic contaminants. The average concentrations of As, Cu, and Zn are possibly the highest in recorded street dust worldwide at 239, 10,821, and 11,869 mg kg−1, respectively. Furthermore, the contaminants As, Pb, and Cu exhibit the highest bioaccessibilities and preliminary health risk indices show that As and Cu contribute to elevated health risks in exposed children and adults chronically exposed to dust in Antofagasta, whereas Pb is considered harmful at any concentration. Therefore, an increased environmental awareness and greater protective measures are necessary in Antofagasta and possibly other similar mining port cities in developing countries.

      https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC5922233

      #santé #mines

    • L’association #Vernunftkraft

      Aufgeklärte und deshalb zu Recht besorgte Bürger dieses Landes (https://www.vernunftkraft.de/bundesinitiative) erkennen hinsichtlich der Rationalität energiepolitischer Entscheidungen nicht hinnehmbare Defizite.

      Die Zerstörung von Wäldern zwecks Ansiedlung von volkswirtschaftlich sinnlosen Windindustrieanlagen ist dabei die Spitze des Eisbergs.

      Zentrale Elemente der gegenwärtigen Energiepolitik sind extrem unvernünftig.

      Daher möchten wir der Vernunft Kraft geben.
      https://www.vernunftkraft.de

    • La guerre des métaux rares. La face cachée de la transition énergétique et numérique

      En nous émancipant des énergies fossiles, nous sombrons en réalité dans une nouvelle dépendance : celle aux métaux rares. Graphite, cobalt, indium, platinoïdes, tungstène, terres rares… ces ressources sont devenues indispensables à notre nouvelle société écologique (voitures électriques, éoliennes, panneaux solaires) et numérique (elles se nichent dans nos smartphones, nos ordinateurs, tablettes et autre objets connectés de notre quotidien). Or les coûts environnementaux, économiques et géopolitiques de cette dépendance pourraient se révéler encore plus dramatiques que ceux qui nous lient au pétrole.

      Dès lors, c’est une contre-histoire de la transition énergétique que ce livre raconte – le récit clandestin d’une odyssée technologique qui a tant promis, et les coulisses d’une quête généreuse, ambitieuse, qui a jusqu’à maintenant charrié des périls aussi colossaux que ceux qu’elle s’était donné pour mission de résoudre.

      http://www.editionslesliensquiliberent.fr/livre-La_guerre_des_m%C3%A9taux_rares-9791020905741-1-1-

      #livre #Guillaume_Pitron

    • Rapport ADEME 2012 :

      Énergie et patrimoine communal : enquête 2012

      L’enquête « Énergie et patrimoine communal » est menée tous les cinq ans depuis 1990. Elle porte sur les consommations d’énergie et les dépenses payées directement par les communes sur trois cibles principales : le patrimoine bâti, l’éclairage public et les carburants des véhicules.

      https://www.ademe.fr/energie-patrimoine-communal-enquete-2012

      –—

      Rapport ADEME 2015 :


      Scénarios 2030-2050 : une vision énergétique volontariste

      Quel mix énergétique pour les années 2030-2050 ? L’ADEME actualise son scénario Énergie Climat et propose des mesures pour contribuer à la déclinaison du plan CLIMAT.

      Les objectifs ambitieux du Plan Climat lancé par Nicolas Hulot, ministre de la Transition écologique et solidaire, confirment la stratégie volontariste de la France pour la transition énergétique. Dans le contexte actuel de mise à jour de la Stratégie nationale bas carbone (SNBC) et de la Programmation pluriannuelle de l’énergie (PPE), l’actualisation du scénario énergie-climat de l’ADEME vient contribuer aux réflexions pour mettre en oeuvre ces objectifs.

      Cette contribution est double : d’une part, l’actualisation des « Visions énergétiques » de l’ADEME, qui souligne l’enjeu que représente l’atteinte des objectifs ambitieux inscrits dans la loi, et d’autre part, l’étude « Propositions de mesures de politiques publiques pour un scénario bas carbone », qui propose une liste de mesures concrètes à mettre en oeuvre.

      https://www.ademe.fr/recherche-innovation/construire-visions-prospectives/scenarios-2030-2050-vision-energetique-volontariste

    • En #Géorgie, la révolte de la “capitale du #manganèse” contre une exploitation hors de contrôle

      Le développement de technologies comme les voitures électriques a fait grimper la demande de manganèse. À #Tchiatoura, où cette ressource est abondante, on en paie les conséquences : excavations à tout-va, paysage saccagé, maisons qui s’effondrent, et main-d’œuvre mal payée.

      La grogne sociale monte depuis 2019 dans le district de Tchiatoura, ancienne “capitale” soviétique de la production de manganèse. Depuis trois mois, 3 500 mineurs sont en #grève pour réclamer la hausse de leurs salaires (qui ne dépassent pas 250 euros) et une meilleure assurance maladie. À la mi-mai, quelques mineurs du village de #Choukrouti, près de Tchiatoura, se sont cousus la bouche et ont entamé une #grève_de_la_faim, rapporte le site géorgien Ambebi.

      Face au silence des autorités locales et nationales, depuis le 31 mai, dix familles font un sit-in devant l’ambassade des États-Unis (la puissance occidentale la plus influente en Géorgie), à Tbilissi, la capitale. “Les gens réclament des compensations pour leur maison et demandent l’aide des diplomates étrangers”, pour rappeler à l’ordre la compagnie privée #Georgian_Manganese, filiale géorgienne de la société britannique #Stemcor, explique le site Ekho Kavkaza.

      Les habitants protestent contre les dégâts écologiques, économiques et culturels causés par une extraction intensive à ciel ouvert du manganèse. Utilisé dans la fabrication de l’acier, la demande pour ce métal est en forte croissance, notamment pour les besoins de l’industrie des véhicules électriques, des piles, des batteries et circuits électroniques.

      #paywall

      https://www.courrierinternational.com/article/degats-en-georgie-la-revolte-de-la-capitale-du-manganese-cont

    • En #Géorgie, la révolte de la “capitale du #manganèse” contre une exploitation hors de contrôle

      Le développement de technologies comme les voitures électriques a fait grimper la demande de manganèse. À #Tchiatoura, où cette ressource est abondante, on en paie les conséquences : excavations à tout-va, paysage saccagé, maisons qui s’effondrent, et main-d’œuvre mal payée.

      La grogne sociale monte depuis 2019 dans le district de Tchiatoura, ancienne “capitale” soviétique de la production de manganèse. Depuis trois mois, 3 500 mineurs sont en #grève pour réclamer la hausse de leurs salaires (qui ne dépassent pas 250 euros) et une meilleure assurance maladie. À la mi-mai, quelques mineurs du village de #Choukrouti, près de Tchiatoura, se sont cousus la bouche et ont entamé une #grève_de_la_faim, rapporte le site géorgien Ambebi.

      Face au silence des autorités locales et nationales, depuis le 31 mai, dix familles font un sit-in devant l’ambassade des États-Unis (la puissance occidentale la plus influente en Géorgie), à Tbilissi, la capitale. “Les gens réclament des compensations pour leur maison et demandent l’aide des diplomates étrangers”, pour rappeler à l’ordre la compagnie privée #Georgian_Manganese, filiale géorgienne de la société britannique #Stemcor, explique le site Ekho Kavkaza.

      Les habitants protestent contre les dégâts écologiques, économiques et culturels causés par une extraction intensive à ciel ouvert du manganèse. Utilisé dans la fabrication de l’acier, la demande pour ce métal est en forte croissance, notamment pour les besoins de l’industrie des véhicules électriques, des piles, des batteries et circuits électroniques.

      #paywall

      https://www.courrierinternational.com/article/degats-en-georgie-la-revolte-de-la-capitale-du-manganese-cont

  • #Développement_humain (2020)

    - L´#indice_de_développement_humain et ses composantes
    – L´évolution de l´indice de développement humain
    – L´indice de développement humain ajusté aux #inégalités
    – L´indice de développement de #genre
    – L´indice d´#inégalités_de_genre
    – Indice de #pauvreté multidimensionnelle : pays en développement
    – Tendances démographiques
    #Santé
    – Niveaux d´#instruction
    #Revenu_national et composition des ressources
    #Travail et #emploi
    #Sécurité_humaine
    #Mobilité humaine et flux de capitaux
    – Qualité du développement humain
    – Inégalités femmes-hommes sur le cycle de vie
    – Autonomisation des #femmes
    #Durabilité_environnementale
    – Viabilité socio-économique

    http://www.cartostat.eu/dr=2020_developpement_humain/F/TABLEAU.html

    #cartothèque #cartes #visualisations #développement_humain
    #ressources_pédagogiques #statistiques #chiffres #monde
    #inégalités #démographie #éducation #mobilité_humaine #dette #tourisme #migrations #téléphone #téléphone_mobile #mortalité_infantile #paludisme #tuberculeuse #VIH #HIV #scolarisation #alphabétisation #PIB #chômage #réfugiés #IDPs #déplacés_internes #suicide #suicides #violence_domestique #violence_conjugale #alimentation #déficit_alimentaire #espérance_de_vie #lits_d'hôpitaux #soins #médecin #PISA #électricité #eau_potable #assainissement #travail_domestique #accouchement #contraception #congé_maternité #combustibles_fossiles #CO2 #émissions_de_CO2 #forêt #engrais #industrie_agro-alimentaire #pollution #pollution_atmosphérique #hygiène #dépenses_militaires #armée #pauvreté

    ping @reka

  • Over 1,300 IDPs and refugees arrived in Kurdistan Region in January 2021- KUrdistan 24

    “The displacement process is continuing to Kurdistan Region. On January 2021 nearly 1,307 IDPs and Refugees arrived in the Kurdistan Region,” the JCC said.

    According to the JCC report the return to the region’s displacement camps is due to poor living conditions, lack of job opportunities and lack of services, instability, and security in their places of origin.

    Iraq’s economy, including that of the Kurdistan Region, has further suffered from an economic crisis due to the coronavirus pandemic and the resulting drop in oil prices.

    https://www.kurdistan24.net/en/story/23943-Over-1,300-IDPs-and-refugees-arrived-in-Kurdistan-Region-in-Janua

    #Covid-19#Irak#camp#guerre#Santé#réfugiés#déplacés#migration#KRG

  • IDPs return to camps in Iraq, Kurdistan Region | Rudaw.net

    Internally displaced people (IDPs) from across Iraq are returning to camps in Iraq and the Kurdistan Region amid a lack of services and security in their areas of origin.
    “We don’t live a good life. We are a family of seven and we can’t buy things. We don’t have a house and we can’t afford to rent. The security situation is not good. Even healthcare is not good, and coronavirus has spread. But the situation is better in the camp,”

    https://www.rudaw.net/english/kurdistan/15022021

    #Covid-19#Irak#camp#guerre#Santé#réfugiés#déplacés#migration#KRG

  • Keep Out... Come Again. The underbelly of American-styled conservation in the Indian Himalayas.

    IN DECEMBER, THE ROAD leading to the #Tirthan_Valley entrance archway of the #Great_Himalayan_National_Park (#GHNP), a #UNESCO World Heritage site in India’s mountain state of Himachal Pradesh, is a potholed mudslide: For miles, a fleet of excavators and tunnel-boring machines are lopping and drilling the mountains to widen and extend the highway. Most of the traffic passing through a big, dark tunnel blasted through the mountain is headed to Manali — the mass-tourist hub of the Western Himalayas, about an hour’s drive farther north.

    My partner and I pass through the archway and weave the motorcycle along a cliffside road into the gorgeous, narrow valley. Villages and orchards dot the ridges. The first snow is melting off the roofs, and far below the Tirthan River runs free and fast. This is still the off-beaten path. But around every turn, we see signs that development is on the rise. Guesthouses, campsites, cottages, hotels, and resorts are sprouting up outside the park’s boundaries. Trucks carrying construction material drive traffic off onto the shoulder. On the opposite ridge, a new helipad access road is being carved out. The area appears to be under construction, not conservation.

    It seems that by putting this once little-known national park on the global map, conservationists have catalyzed a massive wave of development along its border. And ecotourism, though ostensibly a responsible form of development, looks over here, as one researcher put it, more like “old wine in a new bottle.”

    In the two decades since it was formed, the park has displaced over 300 people from their land, disrupted the traditional livelihoods of several thousand more, and forced yet more into dependence on a risky (eco)tourism industry run in large part by outside “experts.” In many ways, the GHNP is a poster child of how the American national park model — conceived at Yellowstone and exported to the Global South by a transnational nexus of state and nonstate actors, continues to ignore the sociopolitical and cultural realities of a place. As a result, protected areas around the world continue to yield pernicious impacts on local communities, and, to some extent, on the local ecology as well. It also raises the question: If protecting one piece of land requires moving its long-time human residents out, developing adjacent land, and flying in tourists from around the world — what is actually being conserved?

    IN THE EARLY 1980s, at the invitation of the Himachal government, a team of Indian and international wildlife biologists led by a British researcher named Tony Gaston surveyed the Western Himalayas for a possible location for the state’s first national park. The state government had been eyeing the Manali area, but after a broad wildlife survey, Gaston’s team recommended the Upper Tirthan and Sainj valleys instead.

    The ecosystem was less disturbed, home to more wildlife, and thus had “excellent potential for attracting tourists”— especially foreign tourists — who might constitute both a “substantial source of [park] revenues” as well as “an enormous input to the local economy,” the team’s report said.

    The proposed 754.4-square-kilometer park included the upper mountain glacial and snow melt water source origins of the Jiwa Nal, Sainj Tirthan, and Parvati rivers, which are all headwater tributaries to the Beas River and subsequently, the Indus River. Given its location at the junction of two of the world’s major biogeographic realms — the Palearctic and Indomalayan — its monsoon-fed forests and alpine meadows sustain a diversity of plant, moss, lichen, bird, and mammal species, many of which are endemic, including the Himalayan goral, blue sheep, and the endangered western Tragopan pheasant and musk deer.

    The park’s boundary was strategically drawn so that only four villages needed to be relocated. But this glossed over the problem of resource displacement. To the northwest, the proposed park was buffered by high mountain systems that include several other national parks and wildlife sanctuaries, but the land in and around its southwest boundary was home to about 150 villages with a total population of at least 11,000 people, all of whom were officially dispossessed of the forests they depended on for centuries when the Indian government inaugurated The Great Himalayan National Park in 1999. These villages are now part of a 265.6-square-kilometer buffer, or so-called “ecozone,” leading into the park.

    A large majority of these families were poor. Many of them cultivated small parcels of land that provided subsistence for part of the year, and they relied on a variety of additional resources provided by the forestlands in the mountains around their homes to meet the rest of their food and financial requirements. That included grazing sheep and goats in the alpine meadows, extracting medicinal herbs that they could sell to the pharmaceutical and cosmetics industry, and collecting gucchi, or morel mushrooms, that fetched high prices in international markets.

    “IN THE INDIAN CONTEXT, the notion that you can have a landscape that is pristine and therefore devoid of humans is an artificial creation,” says Dr. Vasant Saberwal, a wildlife biologist and director of the Centre for Pastoralism, an organization based in Gujarat state that aims to enhance our understanding of pastoralist ecosystems. “India has [long] been a heavily populated country. So, when you think of alpine meadows at 15,000 feet above sea-level, they have been used by pastoral communities for several hundred years. You cannot now go into those landscapes and say we want a pristine alpine meadow. There’s no such thing.”

    In keeping with the lingering idea, tracing back to early American conservationism, that pastoral societies destroy their own land, the Gaston team’s original report claimed that firewood collecting, hunting, and especially overgrazing, were degrading habitat within the area. It recommended a ban on grazing and medicinal plant collection in order to maintain the park’s biodiversity.

    But Saberwal’s research shows that grazing practices in the park’s high alpine meadows — which constitute almost half the park’s area — were likely necessary to maintain its high levels of herb diversity. Before the area was closed off to people, traditional herders of the Indigenous Gaddi tribe would travel up to the alpine meadows with about 35,000 sheep and goats entrusted to them by individual families, and graze them in these meadows for six snow-free months from April through September.

    “So, when you talk to people and suggest to people that their use of the park leads to degradation, they say that we have been using these resources for the past 150-200 years,” he says. “They say, if our presence here has been such a threat, then why would there be biological diversity here?”

    Saberwal’s findings are consistent with reams of scholarship in recent years documenting how local and Indigenous communities, without external pressures, live convivially with nature.

    That is not to say that external pressures aren’t impacting the region. There has definitely been an uptick in morel and medicinal herbs extraction from the park area, especially since the early 1990s when India “liberalized” its economy. Yet today, without adequate enforcement, it remains unclear just how much the park actually helped curtail extraction of these herbs or instead just forced the market underground.

    Other threats include poaching, human-wildlife conflicts, and hydropower development. Ironically, a 10-square-kilometer area was deleted from the original map of the GHNP for building of a hydro-power project, underscoring a typical approach towards conservation “wherein local livelihoods are expendable in the interests of biodiversity, but biodiversity must make way for national development,” Saberwal says.

    India’s Wildlife Protection Act, which prohibits all human activities within a national park, does recognize people’s traditional rights to forest resources. It therefore requires state governments settle or acquire these rights prior to finalizing a new national park’s boundaries, either through financial compensation or by providing people alternative land where such rights can be exercised. But India’s record of actually honoring these rights has been sketchy at best. In GHNP’s case, the state chose to offer financial compensation to only about 300 of the 2,300 or so impacted households, based on family names listed in a colonial report with census data for the area dating back to 1894. It eventually provided the rest of the villagers alternative areas to graze their livestock, but this land was inadequate and nutrient-poor compared to the grasses in the high alpine meadows. Only a handful of families in these villages still have sheep and goat herds today.

    Saberwal, and many mainstream conservationists, says there is an argument to be made for allowing villagers into the park, and not only because it supports their livelihoods. “The presence of people with a real stake in the biological resources of the park can also lead to far greater levels of support for effective management of the park, including better monitoring of who goes into the park, for what, and at what times of the year. Poaching could be more effectively controlled, as could the excessive extraction of medicinal herbs,” he says.

    DESPITE STIFF LOCAL RESISTANCE, the forest department — with support from an international nonprofit called Friends of GHNP, as well as the World Bank, which chipped in a $2.5 million loan — developed an ecotourism industry in the area to help local communities adapt.

    Eco-development, of course, is the current cool idea for making exclusionary conservation acceptable. On paper, it requires community involvement to create “alternative livelihoods” to reduce locals’ dependence on a park’s resources. So, with the support of Friends of GHNP, the forest department helped form a street theater group. It developed firewood and medicinal herb plantations in an effort to wean villagers off of foraging for these the park. A women’s savings and credit collective called Sahara was set up to produce vermicompost, apricot oil, and handicrafts. The Forest Department also handed out “doles” — stoves, handlooms, televisions, pressure cookers — what Mark Dowie, in his book Conservation Refugees, calls “cargo conservation,” or the exchange of commodities for compliance.

    Yet, the project was mired in corruption and mismanagement. The male director of the women’s collective, for instance, was discovered to be siphoning off the collective’s funds. Meanwhile, local ecodevelopment committees set up to coordinate expenditure on livelihood projects were run by the most powerful people in the villages, usually upper-caste males of the devta (deity) community, and chose to spend the money on things like temple and road repairs. According to a 2001 study of the ecodevelopment project, 70 percent of the funds were spent on infrastructure initiatives of this kind. Much later, in 2002, in an attempt to distance itself from the program, the World Bank concluded ecodevelopment had left “very little or no impact … on the ground.”

    In 2014, the park, along with the adjacent Sainj and Tirthan wildlife sanctuaries, was designated a UNESCO World Heritage site, again in spite of more protests from the impacted local communities. Friends of GHNP wrote the application.

    If creating the park cracked the door to development in the Tirthan Valley, minting it a UNESCO World Heritage site flung it wide open.

    On the economic front, it’s certainly true that the influx of tourists has injected more money into the Tirthan Valley than ever before. And it’s true, too, that many locals, the youth especially, are excited, or at least hopeful, that the industry will improve their lives and alleviate poverty. But on the whole, locals are losing opportunities to outside entrepreneurs who come with deeper pockets, digital marketing savvy, and already established networks of potential clientele.

    “That kind of investment and marketing involvement is difficult for locals for figure out,” says Manashi Asher, a researcher with Himdhara, a Himachal-based environmental research and action collective. “Basically, what many locals have done instead, is circumvent local ecotourism policies by turning their properties into homestay or other kinds of [tourist] lodgings and leasing them out to outsiders to run.”

    Though there are no official estimates yet, there’s a consensus among locals that outsider-run guesthouses have already cornered a majority of the valley’s tourism revenue. “City-based tourism operators are licking out the cream, while the peasantry class and unemployed youth earn a pittance from the seasonal, odd jobs they offer,” Dilaram Shabab, the late “Green Man” of Tirthan Valley who spearheaded successful movements against hydropower development on the Tirthan river, wrote in his book Kullu: The Valley of Gods.

    When I read this quote to Upendra Singh Kamra, a transplant from the northwestern state of Punjab who runs a tourism outfit for fishing enthusiasts called Gone Fishing Cottages, he emphasizes how, unlike at most properties, they don’t lay off their local staff during low season. Some have even bought motorcycles or cars. “Logically, you have nothing and then you have something and then you’re complaining that something is not enough. So it doesn’t make sense for me.”

    Many locals see it differently. Narotham Singh, a veteran forest guard, told me he leased his land for 30 years, but now worries for his son and grandchildren. “If they don’t study, what they’re going to be doing is probably cleaning utensils and sweeping in the guesthouses of these people. That’s the dark future.” Karan Bharti, one of Shabab’s grandsons, told me many youth are so ashamed to work as servants on their own land that they’re fleeing the valley altogether.

    More broadly, tourism is also a uniquely precarious industry. Global market fluctuations and environmental disasters frequently spook tourists away for years. (The Western Himalayas is primed for an 8.0-plus magnitude quake tomorrow). And when destination hotspots flip cold, once self-reliant shepherds turned hoteliers are left holding the bill for that high-interest construction loan.

    Sadly, this is exactly what’s happened. In Himachal, the Covid-19 pandemic has exposed just how dependent the state has become on tourism. After the borders were shut in late March, pressure to reopen to salvage a piece of the summer high season was palpable in the press. Chief Minister Jai Ram Thakur proposed Himachal advertise itself for “Quarantine Tourism.” The hotel unions shot down the idea as absurd.

    THERE’S NO SIGN NOR ROAD to Raju’s Guesthouse. To get to it, you have to cross the Tirthan River in a cable basket or makeshift plank bridge and climb up the opposite bank into a fairytale. Vines climb the dark wood facade. There are flowers, fruit trees, and a fire pit. When I visit, kittens are playing around an old cherry tree and a pack of dogs bark up the steep south face; leopards, I learn, come over the ridge at night sometimes and steal dogs.

    Raju, in his late sixties, toothpick-thin, and wearing a baseball cap, is the pioneer of ecotourism in Tirthan Valley. He is also Shabab’s son. When I first spoke with him on the phone, he called the park an “eyewash.” What he meant was that most people don’t come to the park for the park. It’s a steep, half-day trek just to the official boundary, and, inside, the trails aren’t marked. Most tourists are content with a weekend kickback at a guesthouse in the ecozone.

    Still, if real ecotourism exists, Raju’s comes as close as I’ve ever seen. Food scraps are boiled down and fed to the cows. There’s fishing and birding and trekking on offer. No corporate groups allowed, even though that’s where the big bucks are. And no fume-expelling diesel generator, despite guests’ complaints after big storms. There’s a feeling of ineffable wholesomeness that has kept people coming back year after year, for decades now.

    In a 1998 report titled “Communtity-Based Ecotourism in the GHNP,” a World Bank consultant was so impressed by Raju’s that she recommended it be “used as a model for the whole area.” But this was a consultant’s fantasy. Rather than provide support to help locals become owners in the tourism industry, the government and World Bank offered them tour guide, portering, and cooking training. Today, similar second-tier job trainings are part of an $83 million project funded by the Asian Development Bank to develop tourism (mainly by building parking lots) across Himachal.

    Varun, one of Raju’s two sons who runs the guesthouse, doesn’t think any tourist property in the area is practicing ecotourism, even his own. People are illegally catching trout for guests’ dinners, cutting trees for their bonfires, and dumping their trash into the river, he says.

    In 2018, Varun founded the Tirthan Conservation and Tourism Development Association (https://www.facebook.com/Tirthan-conservation-and-tourism-development-association-101254861218173), a union of local guesthouses that works to “eliminate the commercialization of our neighborhood and retain the aura of the valley.” They do tree plantings, enforce camping bans around the river, and meet regularly to discuss new developments in the valley.

    Yet, Varun doesn’t see any way of stopping the development wave. “I mean, it’s inevitable. No matter how much you resist, you know, you’ll have to accept it. The only thing is, we can delay it, slow it down.”

    https://www.earthisland.org/journal/index.php/magazine/entry/keep-out...come-again
    #Inde #montagne #conservation_de_la_nature #nature #protection_de_la_nature #parc_national #Himachal_Pradesh #Manali #tourisme #colonialisme #néo-colonialisme #circulation_des_modèles #Hymalayah #Jiwa_Nal #Sainj_Tirthan #Parvati #rivières #Beas_River #paysage #conservationnisme #biodiversité #Gaddi #élevage #ressources #exploitation_des_ressources #Friends_of_GHNP #banque_mondiale #éco-tourisme #écotourisme #cargo_conservation #corruption #devta #deity #éco-développement #développement #World_Heritage_site #énergie_hydroélectrique #Asian_Development_Bank #Tirthan_Conservation_and_Tourism_Development_Association

    #ressources_pédagogiques

  • ’It’s like Judgment Day’: Syrians Recount Horror of an Underreported COVID-19 Outbreak - Newlines Magazine

    For almost two months after the first case was announced in Syria, official figures showed limited circulation of the virus, with under 50 cases by mid-May. At the time of this writing, that figure had risen to 4,457 cases in territories run by the government, 1,072 in rebel-controlled areas in northwestern Syria, and 1,998 in northeast Syria, where a predominantly Kurdish de facto autonomous administration is in charge. Only 192 deaths have been registered by the Ministry of Health.

    In quarantine centers, which housed suspected domestic COVID-19 cases as well as ones coming from abroad including hundreds of repatriated citizens, people were jammed together in small rooms and forced to share unsanitary utilities. Karam, an administrative assistant at a cash transfer agency, was taken to a center in the Damascus countryside upon his return from Baghdad, where he had to sleep on unwashed sheets and pillowcases.

    In Idlib in the northwest, where Turkey-backed opposition forces hold sway, the outbreak continues to grow, albeit at a slower pace. The northwest is home to vulnerable populations of internal refugees who cannot adhere to social distancing or adequate handwashing in crowded camps. The region has also lost many of its medical centers and health care workers due to Russian and Syrian regime airstrikes over the past few years.

    #Covid-19#Syrie#camp#guerre#Santé#réfugiés#déplacés#migration#quarantaine

    https://newlinesmag.com/dispatch/its-like-judgment-day-syrians-recount-horror-of-an-underreported-covid-

  • #Décolonisations : du sang et des larmes. La rupture (1954-2017) —> premier épisode de 2 (voir plus bas)

    Après huit années de conflits meurtriers, l’#Empire_colonial_français se fragilise peu à peu. La #France est contrainte d’abandonner l’#Indochine et ses comptoirs indiens. Les peuples colonisés y voient une lueur d’espoir et réalisent que la France peut-être vaincue. Les premières revendications d’#indépendance se font entendre. Mais la France reste sourde. Alors qu’un vent de liberté commence à se répandre de l’Afrique aux Antilles en passant par l’océan indien et la Polynésie, un cycle de #répression débute et la République répond par la force. Ce geste va nourrir des décennies de #haine et de #violence. Ce #documentaire, réalisé, à partir d’images d’archives, donne la parole aux témoins de la #décolonisation_française, qui laisse encore aujourd’hui des traces profondes.

    https://www.france.tv/france-2/decolonisations-du-sang-et-des-larmes/decolonisations-du-sang-et-des-larmes-saison-1/1974075-la-rupture-1954-2017.html
    #décolonisation #film_documentaire #colonialisme #colonisation #film

    #France #Indochine #Empire_colonial #FLN #Algérie #guerre_d'Algérie #guerre_de_libération #indépendance #François_Mitterrand #Algérie_française #Section_administrative_spécialisée (#SAS) #pacification #propagande #réformes #attentats #répression #Jacques_Soustelle #Antoine_Pinay #conférence_de_Bandung #Tunisie #Maroc #Gaston_Defferre #Cameroun #Union_des_populations_du_Cameroun (#UPC) #napalm #Ruben_Um_Nyobe #Ahmadou_Ahidjo #Milk_bar #armée_coloniale #loi_martiale #bataille_d'Alger #torture #haine #armée_française #Charles_de_Gaulle #paix_des_Braves #humiliation #camps #déplacement_des_populations #camps_de_déplacés #déplacés #internement #Madagascar #Côte_d'Ivoire #Guinée #Ahmed_Sékou_Touré #communauté_franco-africaine #liberté #Organisation_de_l'armée_secrète (#OAS) #17_octobre_1961 #accords_d'Evian #violence #pieds-noirs #rapatriés_d'Algérie #Harki #massacre #assassinats #déracinement #camp_de_Rivesaltes #invisibilisation #néo-colonialisme #ressources #gendarme_d'Afrique #Françafrique #Felix-Roland_Moumié #territoires_d'Outre-mer #Michel_Debré #La_Réunion #Paul_Vergès #Polynésie #Bureau_pour_le_développement_des_migrations_dans_les_départements_d'Outre-mer (#Bumidom) #racisme #Djibouti #Guadeloupe #Pointe-à-Pitre #blessure #mépris #crimes #mémoire

    –—

    Et à partir du Bureau pour le développement des migrations dans les départements d’Outre-mer... un mot pour désigner des personnes qui ont « bénéficier » des programmes :
    les « #Bumidomiens »
    –-> ajouté à la métaliste sur les #mots en lien avec la #migration :
    https://seenthis.net/messages/414225
    #terminologie #vocabulaire

    –—

    Une citation de #Jean-Pierre_Gaildraud, qui dit dans le film :

    « Nous étions formatés dans une Algérie française qu’il ne fallait pas contester. C’était ces rebelles, c’étaient ces bandits, ces égorgeurs qui menaçaient, qui mettaient en péril une si belle France. En toute bonne foi on disait : ’La Seine traverse Paris comme la Méditerranée traverse la France’ »

    –---

    « Il faut tourner une page et s’abandonner au présent. C’est sûr, mais comment tourner une page quand elle n’est pas écrite ? »

    Hacène Arfi, fils de Harki

  • New research shows devastating economic impact of Covid-19 on displaced | NRC

    More than three quarters of displaced and conflict-affected people surveyed by the Norwegian Refugee Council (NRC) have lost income since the start of the Covid-19 pandemic. The devastating economic impact is tipping many into a hunger, homelessness and education crisis, the organisation said in a report released today.

    The report, Downward Spiral, is based on detailed surveys and needs assessments in 14 countries, including a multi-country survey of 1,400 conflict and displacement-affected people in eight countries, which shows that:

    77 per cent of people surveyed had lost a job or income from work since March.
    70 per cent of people had to cut the number of meals for their household since the pandemic broke out.
    73 per cent reported that they were less likely to send their children to school because of economic hardship.

    “The world’s most vulnerable communities are in a dangerous downward spiral. Already forced from their homes by violence, often with limited rights to work or access to government services, the economic impact of the pandemic is pushing them to catastrophe,” said Jan Egeland, Secretary General of NRC.

    https://www.nrc.no/news/2020/september/new-research-shows-devastating-economic-impact-of-covid-19-on-displaced

    #Covid-19#Monde#Moyen-Orient#Déplacés#Réfugiés#Migrant#migration

  • How Climate Migration Will Reshape America. Millions will be displaced. Where will they go?

    August besieged California with a heat unseen in generations. A surge in air-conditioning broke the state’s electrical grid, leaving a population already ravaged by the coronavirus to work remotely by the dim light of their cellphones. By midmonth, the state had recorded possibly the hottest temperature ever measured on earth — 130 degrees in Death Valley — and an otherworldly storm of lightning had cracked open the sky. From Santa Cruz to Lake Tahoe, thousands of bolts of electricity exploded down onto withered grasslands and forests, some of them already hollowed out by climate-driven infestations of beetles and kiln-dried by the worst five-year drought on record. Soon, California was on fire.

    This article, the second in a series on global climate migration, is a partnership between ProPublica and The New York Times Magazine, with support from the Pulitzer Center. Read Part 1.

    Over the next two weeks, 900 blazes incinerated six times as much land as all the state’s 2019 wildfires combined, forcing 100,000 people from their homes. Three of the largest fires in history burned simultaneously in a ring around the San Francisco Bay Area. Another fire burned just 12 miles from my home in Marin County. I watched as towering plumes of smoke billowed from distant hills in all directions and air tankers crisscrossed the skies. Like many Californians, I spent those weeks worrying about what might happen next, wondering how long it would be before an inferno of 60-foot flames swept up the steep, grassy hillside on its way toward my own house, rehearsing in my mind what my family would do to escape.

    But I also had a longer-term question, about what would happen once this unprecedented fire season ended. Was it finally time to leave for good?

    I had an unusual perspective on the matter. For two years, I have been studying how climate change will influence global migration. My sense was that of all the devastating consequences of a warming planet — changing landscapes, pandemics, mass extinctions — the potential movement of hundreds of millions of climate refugees across the planet stands to be among the most important. I traveled across four countries to witness how rising temperatures were driving climate refugees away from some of the poorest and hottest parts of the world. I had also helped create an enormous computer simulation to analyze how global demographics might shift, and now I was working on a data-mapping project about migration here in the United States.

    So it was with some sense of recognition that I faced the fires these last few weeks. In recent years, summer has brought a season of fear to California, with ever-worsening wildfires closing in. But this year felt different. The hopelessness of the pattern was now clear, and the pandemic had already uprooted so many Americans. Relocation no longer seemed like such a distant prospect. Like the subjects of my reporting, climate change had found me, its indiscriminate forces erasing all semblance of normalcy. Suddenly I had to ask myself the very question I’d been asking others: Was it time to move?

    I am far from the only American facing such questions. This summer has seen more fires, more heat, more storms — all of it making life increasingly untenable in larger areas of the nation. Already, droughts regularly threaten food crops across the West, while destructive floods inundate towns and fields from the Dakotas to Maryland, collapsing dams in Michigan and raising the shorelines of the Great Lakes. Rising seas and increasingly violent hurricanes are making thousands of miles of American shoreline nearly uninhabitable. As California burned, Hurricane Laura pounded the Louisiana coast with 150-mile-an-hour winds, killing at least 25 people; it was the 12th named storm to form by that point in 2020, another record. Phoenix, meanwhile, endured 53 days of 110-degree heat — 20 more days than the previous record.

    For years, Americans have avoided confronting these changes in their own backyards. The decisions we make about where to live are distorted not just by politics that play down climate risks, but also by expensive subsidies and incentives aimed at defying nature. In much of the developing world, vulnerable people will attempt to flee the emerging perils of global warming, seeking cooler temperatures, more fresh water and safety. But here in the United States, people have largely gravitated toward environmental danger, building along coastlines from New Jersey to Florida and settling across the cloudless deserts of the Southwest.

    I wanted to know if this was beginning to change. Might Americans finally be waking up to how climate is about to transform their lives? And if so — if a great domestic relocation might be in the offing — was it possible to project where we might go? To answer these questions, I interviewed more than four dozen experts: economists and demographers, climate scientists and insurance executives, architects and urban planners, and I mapped out the danger zones that will close in on Americans over the next 30 years. The maps for the first time combined exclusive climate data from the Rhodium Group, an independent data-analytics firm; wildfire projections modeled by United States Forest Service researchers and others; and data about America’s shifting climate niches, an evolution of work first published by The Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences last spring. (See a detailed analysis of the maps.)

    What I found was a nation on the cusp of a great transformation. Across the United States, some 162 million people — nearly one in two — will most likely experience a decline in the quality of their environment, namely more heat and less water. For 93 million of them, the changes could be particularly severe, and by 2070, our analysis suggests, if carbon emissions rise at extreme levels, at least four million Americans could find themselves living at the fringe, in places decidedly outside the ideal niche for human life. The cost of resisting the new climate reality is mounting. Florida officials have already acknowledged that defending some roadways against the sea will be unaffordable. And the nation’s federal flood-insurance program is for the first time requiring that some of its payouts be used to retreat from climate threats across the country. It will soon prove too expensive to maintain the status quo.

    Then what? One influential 2018 study, published in The Journal of the Association of Environmental and Resource Economists, suggests that one in 12 Americans in the Southern half of the country will move toward California, the Mountain West or the Northwest over the next 45 years because of climate influences alone. Such a shift in population is likely to increase poverty and widen the gulf between the rich and the poor. It will accelerate rapid, perhaps chaotic, urbanization of cities ill-equipped for the burden, testing their capacity to provide basic services and amplifying existing inequities. It will eat away at prosperity, dealing repeated economic blows to coastal, rural and Southern regions, which could in turn push entire communities to the brink of collapse. This process has already begun in rural Louisiana and coastal Georgia, where low-income and Black and Indigenous communities face environmental change on top of poor health and extreme poverty. Mobility itself, global-migration experts point out, is often a reflection of relative wealth, and as some move, many others will be left behind. Those who stay risk becoming trapped as the land and the society around them ceases to offer any more support.

    There are signs that the message is breaking through. Half of Americans now rank climate as a top political priority, up from roughly one-third in 2016, and three out of four now describe climate change as either “a crisis” or “a major problem.” This year, Democratic caucusgoers in Iowa, where tens of thousands of acres of farmland flooded in 2019, ranked climate second only to health care as an issue. A poll by researchers at Yale and George Mason Universities found that even Republicans’ views are shifting: One in three now think climate change should be declared a national emergency.

    Policymakers, having left America unprepared for what’s next, now face brutal choices about which communities to save — often at exorbitant costs — and which to sacrifice. Their decisions will almost inevitably make the nation more divided, with those worst off relegated to a nightmare future in which they are left to fend for themselves. Nor will these disruptions wait for the worst environmental changes to occur. The wave begins when individual perception of risk starts to shift, when the environmental threat reaches past the least fortunate and rattles the physical and financial security of broader, wealthier parts of the population. It begins when even places like California’s suburbs are no longer safe.

    It has already begun.

    Let’s start with some basics. Across the country, it’s going to get hot. Buffalo may feel in a few decades like Tempe, Ariz., does today, and Tempe itself will sustain 100-degree average summer temperatures by the end of the century. Extreme humidity from New Orleans to northern Wisconsin will make summers increasingly unbearable, turning otherwise seemingly survivable heat waves into debilitating health threats. Fresh water will also be in short supply, not only in the West but also in places like Florida, Georgia and Alabama, where droughts now regularly wither cotton fields. By 2040, according to federal government projections, extreme water shortages will be nearly ubiquitous west of Missouri. The Memphis Sands Aquifer, a crucial water supply for Mississippi, Tennessee, Arkansas and Louisiana, is already overdrawn by hundreds of millions of gallons a day. Much of the Ogallala Aquifer — which supplies nearly a third of the nation’s irrigation groundwater — could be gone by the end of the century.

    It can be difficult to see the challenges clearly because so many factors are in play. At least 28 million Americans are likely to face megafires like the ones we are now seeing in California, in places like Texas and Florida and Georgia. At the same time, 100 million Americans — largely in the Mississippi River Basin from Louisiana to Wisconsin — will increasingly face humidity so extreme that working outside or playing school sports could cause heatstroke. Crop yields will be decimated from Texas to Alabama and all the way north through Oklahoma and Kansas and into Nebraska.

    The challenges are so widespread and so interrelated that Americans seeking to flee one could well run into another. I live on a hilltop, 400 feet above sea level, and my home will never be touched by rising waters. But by the end of this century, if the more extreme projections of eight to 10 feet of sea-level rise come to fruition, the shoreline of San Francisco Bay will move three miles closer to my house, as it subsumes some 166 square miles of land, including a high school, a new county hospital and the store where I buy groceries. The freeway to San Francisco will need to be raised, and to the east, a new bridge will be required to connect the community of Point Richmond to the city of Berkeley. The Latino, Asian and Black communities who live in the most-vulnerable low-lying districts will be displaced first, but research from Mathew Hauer, a sociologist at Florida State University who published some of the first modeling of American climate migration in the journal Nature Climate Change in 2017, suggests that the toll will eventually be far more widespread: Nearly one in three people here in Marin County will leave, part of the roughly 700,000 who his models suggest may abandon the broader Bay Area as a result of sea-level rise alone.

    From Maine to North Carolina to Texas, rising sea levels are not just chewing up shorelines but also raising rivers and swamping the subterranean infrastructure of coastal communities, making a stable life there all but impossible. Coastal high points will be cut off from roadways, amenities and escape routes, and even far inland, saltwater will seep into underground drinking-water supplies. Eight of the nation’s 20 largest metropolitan areas — Miami, New York and Boston among them — will be profoundly altered, indirectly affecting some 50 million people. Imagine large concrete walls separating Fort Lauderdale condominiums from a beachless waterfront, or dozens of new bridges connecting the islands of Philadelphia. Not every city can spend $100 billion on a sea wall, as New York most likely will. Barrier islands? Rural areas along the coast without a strong tax base? They are likely, in the long term, unsalvageable.

    In all, Hauer projects that 13 million Americans will be forced to move away from submerged coastlines. Add to that the people contending with wildfires and other risks, and the number of Americans who might move — though difficult to predict precisely — could easily be tens of millions larger. Even 13 million climate migrants, though, would rank as the largest migration in North American history. The Great Migration — of six million Black Americans out of the South from 1916 to 1970 — transformed almost everything we know about America, from the fate of its labor movement to the shape of its cities to the sound of its music. What would it look like when twice that many people moved? What might change?

    Americans have been conditioned not to respond to geographical climate threats as people in the rest of the world do. It is natural that rural Guatemalans or subsistence farmers in Kenya, facing drought or scorching heat, would seek out someplace more stable and resilient. Even a subtle environmental change — a dry well, say — can mean life or death, and without money to address the problem, migration is often simply a question of survival.

    By comparison, Americans are richer, often much richer, and more insulated from the shocks of climate change. They are distanced from the food and water sources they depend on, and they are part of a culture that sees every problem as capable of being solved by money. So even as the average flow of the Colorado River — the water supply for 40 million Western Americans and the backbone of the nation’s vegetable and cattle farming — has declined for most of the last 33 years, the population of Nevada has doubled. At the same time, more than 1.5 million people have moved to the Phoenix metro area, despite its dependence on that same river (and the fact that temperatures there now regularly hit 115 degrees). Since Hurricane Andrew devastated Florida in 1992 — and even as that state has become a global example of the threat of sea-level rise — more than five million people have moved to Florida’s shorelines, driving a historic boom in building and real estate.

    Similar patterns are evident across the country. Census data show us how Americans move: toward heat, toward coastlines, toward drought, regardless of evidence of increasing storms and flooding and other disasters.

    The sense that money and technology can overcome nature has emboldened Americans. Where money and technology fail, though, it inevitably falls to government policies — and government subsidies — to pick up the slack. Thanks to federally subsidized canals, for example, water in part of the Desert Southwest costs less than it does in Philadelphia. The federal National Flood Insurance Program has paid to rebuild houses that have flooded six times over in the same spot. And federal agriculture aid withholds subsidies from farmers who switch to drought-resistant crops, while paying growers to replant the same ones that failed. Farmers, seed manufacturers, real estate developers and a few homeowners benefit, at least momentarily, but the gap between what the climate can destroy and what money can replace is growing.

    Perhaps no market force has proved more influential — and more misguided — than the nation’s property-insurance system. From state to state, readily available and affordable policies have made it attractive to buy or replace homes even where they are at high risk of disasters, systematically obscuring the reality of the climate threat and fooling many Americans into thinking that their decisions are safer than they actually are. Part of the problem is that most policies look only 12 months into the future, ignoring long-term trends even as insurance availability influences development and drives people’s long-term decision-making.

    Even where insurers have tried to withdraw policies or raise rates to reduce climate-related liabilities, state regulators have forced them to provide affordable coverage anyway, simply subsidizing the cost of underwriting such a risky policy or, in some cases, offering it themselves. The regulations — called Fair Access to Insurance Requirements — are justified by developers and local politicians alike as economic lifeboats “of last resort” in regions where climate change threatens to interrupt economic growth. While they do protect some entrenched and vulnerable communities, the laws also satisfy the demand of wealthier homeowners who still want to be able to buy insurance.

    At least 30 states, including Louisiana, Massachusetts, North Carolina and Texas, have developed so-called FAIR plans, and today they serve as a market backstop in the places facing the highest risks of climate-driven disasters, including coastal flooding, hurricanes and wildfires.

    In an era of climate change, though, such policies amount to a sort of shell game, meant to keep growth going even when other obvious signs and scientific research suggest that it should stop.

    That’s what happened in Florida. Hurricane Andrew reduced parts of cities to landfill and cost insurers nearly $16 billion in payouts. Many insurance companies, recognizing the likelihood that it would happen again, declined to renew policies and left the state. So the Florida Legislature created a state-run company to insure properties itself, preventing both an exodus and an economic collapse by essentially pretending that the climate vulnerabilities didn’t exist.

    As a result, Florida’s taxpayers by 2012 had assumed liabilities worth some $511 billion — more than seven times the state’s total budget — as the value of coastal property topped $2.8 trillion. Another direct hurricane risked bankrupting the state. Florida, concerned that it had taken on too much risk, has since scaled back its self-insurance plan. But the development that resulted is still in place.

    On a sweltering afternoon last October, with the skies above me full of wildfire smoke, I called Jesse Keenan, an urban-planning and climate-change specialist then at Harvard’s Graduate School of Design, who advises the federal Commodity Futures Trading Commission on market hazards from climate change. Keenan, who is now an associate professor of real estate at Tulane University’s School of Architecture, had been in the news last year for projecting where people might move to — suggesting that Duluth, Minn., for instance, should brace for a coming real estate boom as climate migrants move north. But like other scientists I’d spoken with, Keenan had been reluctant to draw conclusions about where these migrants would be driven from.

    Last fall, though, as the previous round of fires ravaged California, his phone began to ring, with private-equity investors and bankers all looking for his read on the state’s future. Their interest suggested a growing investor-grade nervousness about swiftly mounting environmental risk in the hottest real estate markets in the country. It’s an early sign, he told me, that the momentum is about to switch directions. “And once this flips,” he added, “it’s likely to flip very quickly.”

    In fact, the correction — a newfound respect for the destructive power of nature, coupled with a sudden disavowal of Americans’ appetite for reckless development — had begun two years earlier, when a frightening surge in disasters offered a jolting preview of how the climate crisis was changing the rules.

    On October 9, 2017, a wildfire blazed through the suburban blue-collar neighborhood of Coffey Park in Santa Rosa, Calif., virtually in my own backyard. I awoke to learn that more than 1,800 buildings were reduced to ashes, less than 35 miles from where I slept. Inchlong cinders had piled on my windowsills like falling snow.

    The Tubbs Fire, as it was called, shouldn’t have been possible. Coffey Park is surrounded not by vegetation but by concrete and malls and freeways. So insurers had rated it as “basically zero risk,” according to Kevin Van Leer, then a risk modeler from the global insurance liability firm Risk Management Solutions. (He now does similar work for Cape Analytics.) But Van Leer, who had spent seven years picking through the debris left by disasters to understand how insurers could anticipate — and price — the risk of their happening again, had begun to see other “impossible” fires. After a 2016 fire tornado ripped through northern Canada and a firestorm consumed Gatlinburg, Tenn., he said, “alarm bells started going off” for the insurance industry.

    What Van Leer saw when he walked through Coffey Park a week after the Tubbs Fire changed the way he would model and project fire risk forever. Typically, fire would spread along the ground, burning maybe 50 percent of structures. In Santa Rosa, more than 90 percent had been leveled. “The destruction was complete,” he told me. Van Leer determined that the fire had jumped through the forest canopy, spawning 70-mile-per-hour winds that kicked a storm of embers into the modest homes of Coffey Park, which burned at an acre a second as homes ignited spontaneously from the radiant heat. It was the kind of thing that might never have been possible if California’s autumn winds weren’t getting fiercer and drier every year, colliding with intensifying, climate-driven heat and ever-expanding development. “It’s hard to forecast something you’ve never seen before,” he said.

    For me, the awakening to imminent climate risk came with California’s rolling power blackouts last fall — an effort to pre-emptively avoid the risk of a live wire sparking a fire — which showed me that all my notional perspective about climate risk and my own life choices were on a collision course. After the first one, all the food in our refrigerator was lost. When power was interrupted six more times in three weeks, we stopped trying to keep it stocked. All around us, small fires burned. Thick smoke produced fits of coughing. Then, as now, I packed an ax and a go-bag in my car, ready to evacuate. As former Gov. Jerry Brown said, it was beginning to feel like the “new abnormal.”

    It was no surprise, then, that California’s property insurers — having watched 26 years’ worth of profits dissolve over 24 months — began dropping policies, or that California’s insurance commissioner, trying to slow the slide, placed a moratorium on insurance cancellations for parts of the state in 2020. In February, the Legislature introduced a bill compelling California to, in the words of one consumer advocacy group, “follow the lead of Florida” by mandating that insurance remain available, in this case with a requirement that homeowners first harden their properties against fire. At the same time, participation in California’s FAIR plan for catastrophic fires has grown by at least 180 percent since 2015, and in Santa Rosa, houses are being rebuilt in the very same wildfire-vulnerable zones that proved so deadly in 2017. Given that a new study projects a 20 percent increase in extreme-fire-weather days by 2035, such practices suggest a special form of climate negligence.

    It’s only a matter of time before homeowners begin to recognize the unsustainability of this approach. Market shock, when driven by the sort of cultural awakening to risk that Keenan observes, can strike a neighborhood like an infectious disease, with fear spreading doubt — and devaluation — from door to door. It happened that way in the foreclosure crisis.

    Keenan calls the practice of drawing arbitrary lending boundaries around areas of perceived environmental risk “bluelining,” and indeed many of the neighborhoods that banks are bluelining are the same as the ones that were hit by the racist redlining practice in days past. This summer, climate-data analysts at the First Street Foundation released maps showing that 70 percent more buildings in the United States were vulnerable to flood risk than previously thought; most of the underestimated risk was in low-income neighborhoods.

    Such neighborhoods see little in the way of flood-prevention investment. My Bay Area neighborhood, on the other hand, has benefited from consistent investment in efforts to defend it against the ravages of climate change. That questions of livability had reached me, here, were testament to Keenan’s belief that the bluelining phenomenon will eventually affect large majorities of equity-holding middle-class Americans too, with broad implications for the overall economy, starting in the nation’s largest state.

    Under the radar, a new class of dangerous debt — climate-distressed mortgage loans — might already be threatening the financial system. Lending data analyzed by Keenan and his co-author, Jacob Bradt, for a study published in the journal Climatic Change in June shows that small banks are liberally making loans on environmentally threatened homes, but then quickly passing them along to federal mortgage backers. At the same time, they have all but stopped lending money for the higher-end properties worth too much for the government to accept, suggesting that the banks are knowingly passing climate liabilities along to taxpayers as stranded assets.

    Once home values begin a one-way plummet, it’s easy for economists to see how entire communities spin out of control. The tax base declines and the school system and civic services falter, creating a negative feedback loop that pushes more people to leave. Rising insurance costs and the perception of risk force credit-rating agencies to downgrade towns, making it more difficult for them to issue bonds and plug the springing financial leaks. Local banks, meanwhile, keep securitizing their mortgage debt, sloughing off their own liabilities.

    Keenan, though, had a bigger point: All the structural disincentives that had built Americans’ irrational response to the climate risk were now reaching their logical endpoint. A pandemic-induced economic collapse will only heighten the vulnerabilities and speed the transition, reducing to nothing whatever thin margin of financial protection has kept people in place. Until now, the market mechanisms had essentially socialized the consequences of high-risk development. But as the costs rise — and the insurers quit, and the bankers divest, and the farm subsidies prove too wasteful, and so on — the full weight of responsibility will fall on individual people.

    And that’s when the real migration might begin.

    As I spoke with Keenan last year, I looked out my own kitchen window onto hillsides of parkland, singed brown by months of dry summer heat. This was precisely the land that my utility, Pacific Gas & Electric, had three times identified as such an imperiled tinderbox that it had to shut off power to avoid fire. It was precisely the kind of wildland-urban interface that all the studies I read blamed for heightening Californians’ exposure to climate risks. I mentioned this on the phone and then asked Keenan, “Should I be selling my house and getting — ”

    He cut me off: “Yes.”

    Americans have dealt with climate disaster before. The Dust Bowl started after the federal government expanded the Homestead Act to offer more land to settlers willing to work the marginal soil of the Great Plains. Millions took up the invitation, replacing hardy prairie grass with thirsty crops like corn, wheat and cotton. Then, entirely predictably, came the drought. From 1929 to 1934, crop yields across Texas, Oklahoma, Kansas and Missouri plunged by 60 percent, leaving farmers destitute and exposing the now-barren topsoil to dry winds and soaring temperatures. The resulting dust storms, some of them taller than skyscrapers, buried homes whole and blew as far east as Washington. The disaster propelled an exodus of some 2.5 million people, mostly to the West, where newcomers — “Okies” not just from Oklahoma but also Texas, Arkansas and Missouri — unsettled communities and competed for jobs. Colorado tried to seal its border from the climate refugees; in California, they were funneled into squalid shanty towns. Only after the migrants settled and had years to claw back a decent life did some towns bounce back stronger.

    The places migrants left behind never fully recovered. Eighty years later, Dust Bowl towns still have slower economic growth and lower per capita income than the rest of the country. Dust Bowl survivors and their children are less likely to go to college and more likely to live in poverty. Climatic change made them poor, and it has kept them poor ever since.

    A Dust Bowl event will most likely happen again. The Great Plains states today provide nearly half of the nation’s wheat, sorghum and cattle and much of its corn; the farmers and ranchers there export that food to Africa, South America and Asia. Crop yields, though, will drop sharply with every degree of warming. By 2050, researchers at the University of Chicago and the NASA Goddard Institute for Space Studies found, Dust Bowl-era yields will be the norm, even as demand for scarce water jumps by as much as 20 percent. Another extreme drought would drive near-total crop losses worse than the Dust Bowl, kneecapping the broader economy. At that point, the authors write, “abandonment is one option.”

    Projections are inherently imprecise, but the gradual changes to America’s cropland — plus the steady baking and burning and flooding — suggest that we are already witnessing a slower-forming but much larger replay of the Dust Bowl that will destroy more than just crops. In 2017, Solomon Hsiang, a climate economist at the University of California, Berkeley, led an analysis of the economic impact of climate-driven changes like rising mortality and rising energy costs, finding that the poorest counties in the United States — mostly across the South and the Southwest — will in some extreme cases face damages equal to more than a third of their gross domestic products. The 2018 National Climate Assessment also warns that the U.S. economy over all could contract by 10 percent.

    That kind of loss typically drives people toward cities, and researchers expect that trend to continue after the Covid-19 pandemic ends. In 1950, less than 65 percent of Americans lived in cities. By 2050, only 10 percent will live outside them, in part because of climatic change. By 2100, Hauer estimates, Atlanta, Orlando, Houston and Austin could each receive more than a quarter million new residents as a result of sea-level displacement alone, meaning it may be those cities — not the places that empty out — that wind up bearing the brunt of America’s reshuffling. The World Bank warns that fast-moving climate urbanization leads to rising unemployment, competition for services and deepening poverty.

    So what will happen to Atlanta — a metro area of 5.8 million people that may lose its water supply to drought and that our data also shows will face an increase in heat-driven wildfires? Hauer estimates that hundreds of thousands of climate refugees will move into the city by 2100, swelling its population and stressing its infrastructure. Atlanta — where poor transportation and water systems contributed to the state’s C+ infrastructure grade last year — already suffers greater income inequality than any other large American city, making it a virtual tinderbox for social conflict. One in 10 households earns less than $10,000 a year, and rings of extreme poverty are growing on its outskirts even as the city center grows wealthier.

    Atlanta has started bolstering its defenses against climate change, but in some cases this has only exacerbated divisions. When the city converted an old Westside rock quarry into a reservoir, part of a larger greenbelt to expand parkland, clean the air and protect against drought, the project also fueled rapid upscale growth, driving the poorest Black communities further into impoverished suburbs. That Atlanta hasn’t “fully grappled with” such challenges now, says Na’Taki Osborne Jelks, chair of the West Atlanta Watershed Alliance, means that with more people and higher temperatures, “the city might be pushed to what’s manageable.”

    So might Philadelphia, Chicago, Washington, Boston and other cities with long-neglected systems suddenly pressed to expand under increasingly adverse conditions.

    Once you accept that climate change is fast making large parts of the United States nearly uninhabitable, the future looks like this: With time, the bottom half of the country grows inhospitable, dangerous and hot. Something like a tenth of the people who live in the South and the Southwest — from South Carolina to Alabama to Texas to Southern California — decide to move north in search of a better economy and a more temperate environment. Those who stay behind are disproportionately poor and elderly.

    In these places, heat alone will cause as many as 80 additional deaths per 100,000 people — the nation’s opioid crisis, by comparison, produces 15 additional deaths per 100,000. The most affected people, meanwhile, will pay 20 percent more for energy, and their crops will yield half as much food or in some cases virtually none at all. That collective burden will drag down regional incomes by roughly 10 percent, amounting to one of the largest transfers of wealth in American history, as people who live farther north will benefit from that change and see their fortunes rise.

    The millions of people moving north will mostly head to the cities of the Northeast and Northwest, which will see their populations grow by roughly 10 percent, according to one model. Once-chilly places like Minnesota and Michigan and Vermont will become more temperate, verdant and inviting. Vast regions will prosper; just as Hsiang’s research forecast that Southern counties could see a tenth of their economy dry up, he projects that others as far as North Dakota and Minnesota will enjoy a corresponding expansion. Cities like Detroit, Rochester, Buffalo and Milwaukee will see a renaissance, with their excess capacity in infrastructure, water supplies and highways once again put to good use. One day, it’s possible that a high-speed rail line could race across the Dakotas, through Idaho’s up-and-coming wine country and the country’s new breadbasket along the Canadian border, to the megalopolis of Seattle, which by then has nearly merged with Vancouver to its north.

    Sitting in my own backyard one afternoon this summer, my wife and I talked through the implications of this looming American future. The facts were clear and increasingly foreboding. Yet there were so many intangibles — a love of nature, the busy pace of life, the high cost of moving — that conspired to keep us from leaving. Nobody wants to migrate away from home, even when an inexorable danger is inching ever closer. They do it when there is no longer any other choice.

    https://www.nytimes.com/interactive/2020/09/15/magazine/climate-crisis-migration-america.html?smid=tw-share

    Quelques cartes:

    #migrations_environnementales #USA #Etats-Unis #réfugiés_climatiques #climat #changement_climatique #déplacés_internes #IDPs

  • Coronavirus: Iraq’s ’Covid-19 generation’ faces forced labour, lack of school | Middle East Eye

    Yusuf, a 10-year-old Arab boy originally from Iraq’s central Salahaddin province, sells plastic bags in the centre of Sulaymaniyah.

    Yusuf is one of hundreds, if not thousands, of children working across northern Iraq’s autonomous Kurdish region to help their families - or just to survive - at a time that Iraqi government coffers have shrunk due to the crash in oil prices, an economic crisis and a pandemic that has caused mayhem around the world.

    “I never attended school [and] have been working here for more than two years,” he told Middle East Eye. “My parents were killed by the Islamic State.”

    Many Kurdish families, internally displaced persons (IDPs) and Syrian refugees are forced to take their children out of school and send them to work in dangerous conditions in order to make ends meet.

    #Covid-19#Iraq#Déplacés#Précarité#Société_civile#migrant#migration

    https://www.middleeasteye.net/news/coronavirus-iraq-covid-19-generation-forced-labour-education-school

  • IDPs from Syria’s Tel Abyad fear coronavirus outbreak in camps - North press agency

    The displaced people of Tel Abyad (Gre-Spi) who reside in the camp of Tel Samen, 40 kilometers north of Raqqa, live in fear of the spread of coronavirus in the densely-packed camp.

    The camp is home to 700 families living in over 800 tents, with the camp administration forced to provide two tents to some of the camp’s larger families.

    Abla Darwish, a resident of Tel Samen camp displaced from Tel Abyad, expressed her fears of the spread of the pandemic in the camp, explaining that “all IDPs share the same toilets, bathrooms, and water tanks.”

    https://npasyria.com/en/?p=46564

    #Covid-19#Syrie#camp#Telabyad#Santé#réfugiés#déplacés#migration#quarantaine

  • COVID-19: Highest death toll in Kurdistan Region, as WHO and KRG launch COVID awareness campaign - Kurdistan 24

    Rising cases in Dohuk Province

    The ministry said in a statement that it had conducted 4,699 new tests across the region, with 458 returning positive: 199 were in Dohuk province, marking a significant increase in cases there. Some 127 new cases were reported in Erbil and 91 in Sulaimani.

    The ministry also said that 27 people had died of the virus over the past 24 hours—the highest coronavirus death count in one day, raising the total to 930 fatalities from the disease across the Kurdistan Region.

    COVID-19 is highly contagious, and health authorities have repeatedly explained what needs to be done to control its spread: wear a face mask; practice social distancing; and regularly wash hands.

    https://www.kurdistan24.net/en/news/b9c71dfc-6154-4ff2-a778-0479ce648f5f

    #Covid-19#Iraq#KRG#Dohuk#Seconde_vague#Camps#déplacés#Pandémie#Santé#migrant#migration

  • A decade of desperation for refugees across the globe
    https://multimedia.scmp.com/infographics/news/world/article/3096764/asylum-seekers-refugees/index.html

    Rising numbers

    Refugees and asylum seekers may be displaced by war or threats due to their ethnicity, political beliefs or sexual orientation. Those fleeing their homes often leave family and friends behind, only to face new traumas, including new societies that can often appear unwelcoming.

    In 2018, 70 million people were displaced – 26 million were refugees and 84 per cent of those were from underdeveloped countries. Many are still waiting to be resettled.

    Recent figures indicate that more than half the world’s refugees live in urban areas, and almost 40 per cent are confined to camps or similar facilities.

    #migeartion #asile #réfugiés #statistiques

  • Land grabs at gunpoint: Thousands of families are being violently evicted from their farms to make way for foreign-owned plantations in Kiryandongo, Uganda
    https://grain.org/e/6518

    Three multinational companies – Agilis Partners, Kiryandongo Sugar Limited and Great Season SMC Limited – are involved in grabbing land, violently evicting people from their homes and causing untold humiliation and grief to thousands of farming families residing in Kiryandongo district, Uganda. The land grabs are happening on abandoned national ranches, which have long since been settled and farmed by people who came to the area fleeing war and natural calamities in neighbouring areas. The local people are being displaced without notice, alternatives or even negotiations and are now desperately trying to save their homes and lives.

    #Ouganda #terres #évictions_forcées #canne_à_sucre

  • COVID-19 case detected at IDP camp in Duhok: migration and displacement ministry- NRT Tv

    The federal Ministry of Displacement and Migration announced on Wednesday (August 5) that it has identified a coronavirus case at the Chamishku camp in Duhok’s Zakho district, the first at that facility.

    The General Director of the ministry’s Branches Affairs Department Ali Abbas said in a statement that the person in question was a 39-year-old internally displaced person (IDP).

    “Thirty of those who were in contact with him have been isolated according to the initial report issued by the competent authorities in the province,” read the statement.

    “With the guidance of Minister of Immigration and Displacement Evan Faeq, immediate measures have been taken to sterilize the camp and prevent entries and exits to limit the spread of the virus,” Abbas added.

    “Necessary measures have been taken in coordination with Duhok Health Department to take samples, transport patients, and isolate the contacts.”

    A request for comment sent to the Kurdistan Regional Government’s (KRG) Joint Crisis Coordination Centre (JCC) was not immediately returned.

    Located just north of Zakho city, Chamishku is home to 26,520 IDPs, according to UNHCR.

    Since the beginning of the Kurdistan Region’s coronavirus outbreak in March, Duhok has been relatively free of the virus, but cases have increased significantly in the past two week, surging from 357 cases on July 21 to 801 on Tuesday.

    For many, the nightmare scenario is that the coronavirus outbreak spreads to the displacement camps, where social distancing and other public health measures are difficult to achieve

    https://nrttv.com/En/News.aspx?id=22999&MapID=1

    #Covid-19#Iraq#KRG#Dohuk#Seconde_vague#Camps#déplacés#Pandémie#Santé#migrant#migration

  • In northern Syria, COVID-19 worsens an already dramatic humanitarian crisis - Global Voices

    The ongoing armed conflict in Syria has displaced over 1.6 million people who have fled mostly to the north of the country. The resulting catastrophic humanitarian crisis is now worsened by the impact of COVID-19 in the region.

    In the Idlib region in northern Syria, residents already endure drastic conditions on a daily basis. Although Idlib has confirmed only one case of COVID-19 in July, many factors contribute to rising tensions, one of which is the continuing and deliberate violence inflicted on Idlib’s vital infrastructure by the Syrian-Russian military alliance which has completely destroyed its health sector.

    According to Human Rights Watch, “northern Syria is not at all ready to face the ‘COVID-19′ pandemic.”

    Hani al-Hariri, an activist from southern Syria now living in Idlib, told Global Voices that the situation could be catastrophic if COVID-19 reaches northern Syria, where displaced people barely have access to basic needs, including health care, water, and food, making social distancing and hygiene almost impossible to maintain.

    #Covid-19#Syrie#camp#Idlib#Santé#réfugiés#déplacés#migration#quarantaine
    https://globalvoices.org/2020/07/30/in-northern-syria-covid-19-worsens-an-already-dramatic-humanitarian-cr

  • Syrians ‘face unprecedented hunger amid impending COVID crisis’ - UN News

    Most of the relatively low number of confirmed infections have been identified in rural Damascus, in areas under Government control.

    But there are serious concerns that Syrians – nine in 10 of whom live on $2 or less a day – are dangerously exposed to the disease should it reach them.

    “We’ve only had 248 cases (of new coronavirus infection) in country thus far, but we can take no comfort in that”, said Dr Richard Brennan, Regional Emergency Director for the World Health Organization (WHO)’s Eastern Mediterranean Regional Office.

    “We have other countries in the region, the number of cases has got off to a slow start, and we’ve seen in more recent times a real acceleration, so we’ve seen this in Iraq, we’ve seen it in Turkey, we’ve seen it in Egypt and we can fully expect that we will have a similar development in Syria as well.”

    https://news.un.org/en/story/2020/06/1067252
    #Covid-19#Syrie#camp#guerre#Santé#réfugiés#déplacés#migration#quarantaine

  • « Des milliers d’Irakiens n’arrivent plus à manger » : en Irak, le COVID-19 a précarisé les travailleurs pauvres -Al Monitor

    En périphérie de Bagdad, de nombreux Irakiens précaires ne peuvent plus subvenir aux besoins de leur famille depuis le début du confinement décrété à la mi-mars pour lutter contre le coronavirus. Seules les actions de solidarité leur permettent de survivre.
    Dans le faubourg chiite de Sabaa Qusoor, localisé dans le nord-ouest de Bagdad, un demi-million d’Irakiens s’entassent dans des habitations de fortune faites de bâches et de parpaings. Des constructions pour la plupart illégales, bâties dans l’urgence au gré des guerres et des conjonctures économiques fluctuantes en Irak.

    Les routes en terre, les installations électriques bricolées par les habitants et les marées d’eaux usées dessinent les allées de ce territoire laissé à l’abandon par les autorités.

    #Covid-19#Iraq#Coopération#Déplacés#Précarité#ONG#Société_civile#migrant#migration

    https://www.middleeasteye.net/fr/reportages/irak-pauvrete-coronavirus-crise-economique-solidarite

  • 1 per cent of humanity displaced: UNHCR Global Trends report - UNHCR

    - Coronavirus impact? -

    The report did not address the evolving displacement situation since the global coronavirus pandemic struck.
    Grandi said it was clear the crisis was complicating the situation for the displaced at a time when everyone is being told that “being on the move is a liability for yourself and for others.”
    But he noted that the poor and middle-income countries that host around 85 percent of the world’s refugees had so far been relatively spared the worst health impacts of the pandemic.
    However, he warned, the economic impacts were taking a dire toll.
    “What we have really seen escalating dramatically is poverty,” he said, pointing out that lockdowns in many countries had eliminated any chance most displaced people have of making an income.
    Without significant support for displaced people and their host communities, this could spark “further population movements”, he warned.
    Grandi also reiterated that countries must continue granting asylum to those in need, despite border closures and lockdown measures.
    “One activity that doesn’t seem to have been discouraged by the pandemic is war, or conflict or violence,” he said.
    “Unfortunately people continue to flee their homes, because pandemic or not, they are at risk... and they need to continue to be given refuge, protection, asylum.”

    #Covid-19#Monde#Moyen-Orient#Déplacés#Réfugiés#Migrant#migration

    https://www.rudaw.net/english/world/refugees-displaced-one-in-100-unhcr-19062020
    https://www.unhcr.org/news/press/2020/6/5ee9db2e4/1-cent-humanity-displaced-unhcr-global-trends-report.html

  • Iraq: Displaced people extremely vulnerable to COVID-19 - MSF

    Two years since the end of the war with the Islamic State group, more than 1.3 million people in Iraq are still displaced from their homes and are now extremely vulnerable to COVID-19 due to overcrowded and unhygienic living conditions, the international medical humanitarian organization Doctors Without Borders/Médecins Sans Frontières (MSF) warned today.

    “Internally displaced people in Iraq have been suffering for years, living in precarious and often cramped formal and informal camps,” said Gul Badshah, MSF head of mission in Iraq. “There have been the first confirmed COVID-19 cases in a few internal displacement camps in Iraq, including where MSF works in Laylan camp near Kirkuk. While there have not been more confirmed cases for now, we are still worried about the impact COVID-19 will have on the most vulnerable people inside the camps, especially given the difficulty for people take self-protective measures.”

    #Covid-19#Moyen-Orient#Iraq#KRG#Sanitaire#Déplacés#Camps#migrant#migration

    https://www.doctorswithoutborders.org/what-we-do/news-stories/news/iraq-displaced-people-extremely-vulnerable-covid-19

  • Refugees and COVID-19: A Closer Look at the Syrian and Rohingya Crises- New security beat

    “We all know that while no one is immune from the Covid-19 virus—and people of all types have caught the virus and died from it—it is the world’s most vulnerable communities that have suffered disproportionately from the pandemic,” said Michael Kugelman, Deputy Director and Senior Associate for the Wilson Center’s Asia Program. He spoke at a recent Wilson Center event on the impact of the COVID-19 pandemic on refugee communities. As of 2019, 1 percent of humanity was displaced. That’s more than 79.5 million people. The COVID-19 pandemic has exacerbated the vulnerabilities of these people. “The health pandemic is fostering a new pandemic of poverty,” said Matthew Reynolds, Regional Representative for the U.S. and the Caribbean at the United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees (UNHCR).

    #Covid-19#Syrie#camp#guerre#Santé#réfugiés#déplacés#migration#quarantaine

    https://www.newsecuritybeat.org/2020/07/refugees-covid-19-closer-syrian-rohingya-crises

  • Idlib cannot be left alone to deal with Covid-19 - The national

    It was always a matter of time. Late last week, the first coronavirus case was discovered in Idlib, a province in Syria bordering Turkey where hundreds of thousands are living in crowded refugee camps after fleeing war. Without urgent measures to contain any potential outbreak, it could spell disaster for one of the most vulnerable communities in the world.

    News of the first infection emerged last Thursday, and by Tuesday the number of confirmed cases had risen to four, including two in Idlib and two in opposition areas in rural Aleppo. All, according to the UN’s Office for the Co-ordination of Humanitarian Affairs (OCHA), are healthcare workers, which means it is likely that they were in contact with patients who visited their clinics or hospitals. They are all currently in isolation and contact tracing is under way to see who else may be infected.

    Aid workers have long warned of the dangers of an outbreak in a place like Idlib and the devastating effects it could have. To understand the risks, we need to take a step back and examine the situation as a whole.

    https://www.thenational.ae/opinion/comment/idlib-cannot-be-left-alone-to-deal-with-covid-19-1.1049499

    #Covid-19#Syrie#camp#Idlib#Santé#réfugiés#déplacés#migration#quarantaine

  • Surviving lockdown in Syria’s refugee camps - Helpage international

    Older people in Syria have seen their lives turned upside down by war, and survival in the refugee camps is a daily struggle for older people even without dealing with a pandemic. Fortunately, Age International, through our partner SEMA, have been able to reach out to older people in the refugee camps to provide vital information and support. Mr Omar and Mrs Shamta told us about their experiences.

    #Covid-19#Syrie#camp#Quarantaine#témoignage#réfugiés#déplacés#migration

    https://www.helpage.org/newsroom/covid19-older-peoples-stories/in-their-own-words-surviving-lockdown-in-syrias-refugee-camps

  • Syrie : un premier cas de Covid-19 recensé dans la région d’Idleb - L’express

    Cette région abrite quelque trois millions de personnes, dont beaucoup vivent dans la promiscuité des camps de déplacés.

    Un premier cas de nouveau coronavirus a été officiellement enregistré jeudi dans le nord-ouest de la Syrie, a indiqué une responsable de l’opposition, ravivant les craintes d’un désastre si l’épidémie atteint les camps de réfugiés du bastion rebelle. « Nous regrettons aujourd’hui d’annoncer le premier cas de coronavirus, un soignant travaillant dans un des hôpitaux » de la province d’Idleb, a déclaré un responsable de la santé dans la région, Maram al-Cheikh.

    #Covid-19#Syrie#camp#Idlib#Santé#réfugiés#déplacés#migration#quarantaine

    https://www.lexpress.fr/actualite/monde/proche-moyen-orient/syrie-un-premier-cas-de-covid-19-recense-dans-la-region-d-idleb_2130544.htm