• 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

  • Le nombre de déplacés et de réfugiés dans le monde dépasse la barre des 80 millions (HCR)

    Le nombre de déplacés et de réfugiés dans le monde a dépassé le seuil de 80 millions à la mi-2020 alors que la pandémie de Covid-19 met en péril la protection des réfugiés, a indiqué mercredi l’Agence de l’ONU pour les réfugiés.

    Des millions de personnes ont déjà été forcées de fuir leur foyer du fait de la persécution, du conflit et des violations des droits humains. Et selon le Haut-Commissariat de l’ONU pour les réfugiés (HCR), la #pandémie du #coronavirus et les conflits existants ou nouveaux ont « dramatiquement affecté leurs conditions ».

    Ce chiffre de #80_millions de #déracinés risque de « continuer d’augmenter à moins que les dirigeants mondiaux ne stoppent les guerres », a déclaré le Haut-Commissaire Filippo Grandi.

    « Alors que les déplacements forcés ont doublé durant la dernière décennie, la communauté internationale échoue à maintenir la #paix », a ajouté M. Grandi, dans un communiqué.

    Au début de cette année, 79,5 millions de personnes étaient déracinées dans le monde. Parmi elles figuraient plus de 45 millions de déplacés internes, 29,6 millions de réfugiés et plus de 4 millions de demandeurs d’asile.

    « Aujourd’hui nous passons de nouveau un sombre jalon et cette hausse continuera sauf si les dirigeants mondiaux font cesser les #guerres », a fait valoir le chef du HCR.

    Impact sur les réfugiés des mesures prises pour freiner la propagation de la #Covid-19

    Malgré l’appel urgent lancé en mars par le Secrétaire général des Nations Unies en faveur d’un cessez-le-feu mondial pendant la pandémie, les conflits et les persécutions se poursuivent, déplore l’agence onusienne. De nouvelles personnes ont été contraintes de fuir leurs domiciles dans des pays comme la Syrie, le Mozambique, la Somalie la République démocratique du Congo (RDC) ou le Yémen.

    Des déplacements nouveaux et significatifs ont également été enregistrés à travers la région du Sahel central en Afrique, alors que les civils subissent des violences inqualifiables, y compris des viols et des exécutions. « Alors que les déplacements forcés ont doublé durant la dernière décennie, la communauté internationale échoue à maintenir la paix », a dit M. Grandi.

    Par ailleurs, le rapport souligne que certaines des mesures prises pour freiner la propagation de la Covid-19 ont rendu plus difficile l’accès des réfugiés à la #sécurité.

    Lors du pic de la première vague de la pandémie en avril dernier, 168 pays avaient fermé entièrement ou partiellement leurs frontières et 90 pays ne faisaient aucune exception pour les demandeurs d’asile.

    Pour les personnes déracinées, la pandémie de Covid-19 est finalement devenue « une crise supplémentaire de #protection » et de #moyens_de_subsistance au-delà de la situation d’urgence pour la santé publique à travers le monde.

    Selon l’agence onusienne basée à Genève, le virus a altéré tous les aspects de la vie humaine et a sévèrement aggravé les problèmes existants pour les personnes déracinées et les apatrides.

    Les nouvelles demandes d’asile ont diminué d’un tiers

    Mais depuis lors, avec le soutien et l’expertise du HCR, 111 pays ont trouvé des solutions pratiques pour garantir que leur régime d’asile est pleinement ou partiellement opérationnel, tout en veillant à prendre les mesures nécessaires pour lutter contre la propagation du virus.

    Malgré ces mesures, les nouvelles demandes d’asile ont diminué d’un tiers par rapport à la même période en 2019.

    De même, moins de solutions durables ont été trouvées pour les déplacés. Seulement plus de 822.000 personnes déracinées sont rentrées chez elles, dont la plupart – 635.000 – étaient des déplacés internes. Avec plus de 102.000 #rapatriements librement consentis au premier semestre 2020, les #retours de réfugiés ont chuté de 22% par rapport à 2019.

    Les voyages de réfugiés vers des pays de réinstallation ont été temporairement suspendus à cause des restrictions dues à la pandémie de Covid-19 entre mars et juin dernier. Par conséquent, seuls plus de 17.000 réfugiés ont été réinstallés durant le premier semestre de cette année, selon les statistiques gouvernementales, soit la moitié des réinstallations survenues par rapport à l’année dernière.

    https://news.un.org/fr/story/2020/12/1084102

    #statistiques #chiffres #asile #migrations #réfugiés #monde #2020 #dépacés_internes #IDPs #réinstallation #renvois #expulsions #fermeture_des_frontières

    ping @simplicissimus @reka @karine4 @isskein @_kg_

  • 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

  • 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

  • À Fukushima, l’entêtement du gouvernement à rouvrir la zone d’exclusion
    https://theconversation.com/a-fukushima-lentetement-du-gouvernement-a-rouvrir-la-zone-dexclusio

    La position de l’AIEA concernant le retour des populations à résider dans la zone n’est pas plus rationnelle. Elle fait preuve ici de contradictions manifestes : elle autorise le gouvernement à la réouverture de sites, dont le taux de contamination est égal ou en deçà de 20 msv/an, ce qui représente 20 fois la norme internationale fixée par… l’AIEA et les organismes associés.

    Le 8 juin, le préfet de Fukushima M. Uchibori a soutenu publiquement cette décision en spécifiant que la réouverture n’engendrait aucun problème tant que les habitants ne revenaient pas habiter dans ces zones – alors même que les réfugiés verront leurs subventions coupées, cette mesure les contraignant, pour une partie au retour.

    Dans la plus grande incohérence, les habitants sont donc contraints sous la pression des institutions nationales et internationales de gestion du nucléaire, à retourner vivre dans des territoires encore inhabitables selon les normes de sécurité fixées par ces mêmes institutions.

    Cette position est en outre singulièrement problématique, en ce qu’elle annihile tout filet protecteur public, tout en imposant la responsabilité de la gestion de l’accident aux citoyens. Les organisations dirigeantes nationales et internationales imposent à leurs administrés d’assumer les conséquences des diverses catastrophes, détournant ainsi la définition du contrat social, pourtant au fondement de nos systèmes démocratiques.

    Tant dans la gestion des désastres naturels qu’industriels, il apparaît que la protection des habitants par les pouvoirs publics n’apparaît plus ni comme une obligation, ni comme une priorité .

  • #Koukaki through the eyes of seven residents: A Place of Residence and Transit

    Koukaki spans from Dionisiou Areopagitou St. to Koudourioti square (known as “The Playground”) and from the foothills of Philopappou to Syggrou Avenue. It is an area with long history and has recently undergone radical changes. In chronological order, these are: the pedestrianization of some central streets, the opening of two metro stations, the opening of the New Acropolis Museum and finally the Airbnb phenomenon and the vivid nightlife. The current article explores the area through the eyes of seven inhabitants, every one of whom has a story to tell.

    https://www.athenssocialatlas.gr/en/article/koukaki-a-place-of-residence-and-transit
    #Athènes #géographie_urbaine #urban_matter #quartiers #exploration_urbaine

    ping @reka

  • #Suède : la ville que la mine avale

    Aux confins de la Laponie, au-delà du cercle polaire, la ville de Kiruna repose sur le plus grand gisement de minerai de fer au monde.
    Exploitée depuis plus de cent vingt ans, la plus grande mine de fer souterraine aux couloirs plongeant jusqu’à 1775 mètres de profondeur, représente 90% des réserves du minerai de fer européen. Mais les forages avancent toujours davantage sous les habitations, mettant en péril des quartiers entiers. Pour éviter l’effondrement de cette ville de 23.000 habitants, dont 18.000 dans le centre-ville, celle-ci doit être déplacée 5 kilomètres plus loin : une révolution urbanistique qui inclut voie ferrée, autoroute, églises, écoles, maisons…

    https://www.arte.tv/fr/videos/089893-000-A/suede-la-ville-que-la-mine-avale
    #film #documentaire #film_documentaire
    #colonisation #sami #ressources_naturelles #extractivisme #mines #gisement_de_fer #Kiruna #déplacés_internes #IDPs #peuples_autochtones #mineurs #chemin_de_fer #tourisme #LKAB #minerai_de_fer #élevage #Laponie #montagne_maudite #montagne #transhumance #démolition #destruction #New_Kiruna #mémoire

    #Jan_Vajstedt —> peintre


    https://mokk-lainio.weebly.com/uploads/1/1/0/8/11089380/broschyrmokk2011_kvadrat_skarm.pdf
    ping @reka

  • Le temps des ouvriers. Le temps de l’#usine (1/4)

    Du début du XVIIIe siècle à nos jours, Stan Neumann déroule sur plus de trois siècles l’histoire du monde ouvrier européen, rappelant en une synthèse éblouissante ce que nos sociétés doivent aux luttes des « damnés de la terre ».

    Dès le début du XVIIIe siècle, en Grande-Bretagne, une nouvelle économie « industrielle et commerciale », portée par le textile, chasse des campagnes les petits paysans et les tisserands indépendants. Pour survivre, ils doivent désormais travailler contre salaire dans des fabriques (factories) qui rassemblent plusieurs milliers d’ouvriers, sur des métiers appartenant à des marchands devenus industriels. C’est la naissance de la classe ouvrière anglaise. Le travail en usine, le Factory System, où seul compte le profit, impose aux déracinés une discipline et une conception du temps radicalement nouvelles. Avec la révolution industrielle de la fin du XVIIIe siècle, ils subissent un dressage plus violent encore, sous la loi de machines qui réduisent l’ouvrier à un simple rouage.
    Surexploitée et inorganisée, cette classe ouvrière primitive, qui oppose à la main de fer de l’industrie naissante des révoltes spontanées et sporadiques, va mettre plusieurs générations à inventer ses propres formes de lutte, dans une alliance parfois malaisée avec les républicains anglais, inspirés par la Révolution française de 1789. Ses revendications sont sociales et politiques : réglementation du travail des enfants, salaires, durée du temps de travail, liberté syndicale, droit de grève, suffrage universel... Dans les années 1820, après des décennies de combats perdus, une classe ouvrière anglaise puissante et combative semble en mesure de faire la révolution.

    Temps complet
    La classe ouvrière a-t-elle disparu, ou simplement changé de forme, de nom, de rêve ? Conciliant l’audace et la rigueur historique, l’humour et l’émotion, le détail signifiant et le souffle épique, Stan Neumann (Austerlitz, Lénine, Gorki – La révolution à contre-temps) livre une éblouissante relecture de trois cents ans d’histoire. Faisant vibrer la mémoire des lieux et la beauté des archives, célébrissimes ou méconnues, il parvient à synthétiser avec fluidité une étonnante quantité d’informations. Les séquences d’animation, ludiques et inventives, et un commentaire dit par la voix à la fois présente et discrète de Bernard Lavilliers permettent de passer sans se perdre d’un temps à l’autre : celui du travail, compté hier comme aujourd’hui minute par minute, celui des grands événements historiques, et celui, enfin, des changements sociaux ou techniques étalés parfois sur plusieurs décennies, comme le processus de légalisation des syndicats ou du travail à la chaîne. En parallèle, le réalisateur donne la parole à des ouvriers et ouvrières d’aujourd’hui et à une douzaine d’historiens et philosophes, hommes et femmes, « personnages » à part entière dont la passion communicative rythme le récit. On peut citer Jacques Rancière, Marion Fontaine, Alessandro Portelli, Arthur McIvor, Stefan Berger, avec Xavier Vigna comme conseiller scientifique de l’ensemble des épisodes. Cette série documentaire virtuose, où l’expérience intime coexiste avec la mémoire collective, au risque parfois de la contredire, révèle ainsi combien nos sociétés contemporaines ont été façonnées par l’histoire des ouvriers.

    https://www.arte.tv/fr/videos/082189-001-A/le-temps-des-ouvriers-1-4

    #documentaire #film_documentaire #film
    #agriculture #cleasning #nettoyage #industrie #industrie_textile #industrialisation #expulsions_forcées #histoire #Ecosse #UK #exode_rural #déplacés_internes #IDPs #histoire #force_de_travail #classe_ouvrière #Highlands #désindustrialisation #compétition #factory_system #esclavage #Crowley #temps #contrôle_du_temps #salaires #profit #filatures #travail_d'enfants #enfants #femmes #New_Lanark #Robert_Owen #silent_monitor #école #Institut_pour_la_formation_du_caractère #paternalisme #contrôle #tyrannie #liberté_de_commerce #grève #émeute #insécurité_sociale #pauvreté #workhouse #criminalisation_de_la_pauvreté #résistance #Enoch #Great_Enoch #John_Ludd #général_Ludd #luddisme #luttes #insurrection #cadence #progrès_technique #accidents_de_travail #Angleterre #insurrection_luddite #massacre_de_Peterloo #odeur #intercheangeabilité

    Sur le silent monitor :

    This small four-sided wooden block was known as a ’silent monitor’ and was used by Robert Owen as a means of imposing discipline at his #New_Lanark_Mills.

    Robert Owen was strongly opposed to the use of corporal punishment, so in order to keep discipline at the New Lanark Mills, he devised his own unique system. The ’silent monitors’ were hung next to each worker in the mills, with each side displaying a different colour. ’Bad’ behaviour was represented by the colour black; ’indifferent’ was represented by blue; ’good’ by yellow; and ’excellent’ by white. The superintendent was responsible for turning the monitors every day, according to how well or badly the worker had behaved. A daily note was then made of the conduct of the workers in the ’books of character’ which were provided for each department in the mills.


    https://www.peoplescollection.wales/items/10456

    New Lanark :

  • UN: Northwest Syria fighting displaces over 500,000 in 2 months

    Russia-backed offensive against rebel enclave forces 520,000 from their homes in two months, mostly women and children.

    The United Nations has sounded the alarm over a severe humanitarian crisis unfolding in Syria’s northwest, where a Russian-backed Syrian government push against the country’s last rebel-held stronghold has forced more 500,000 people from their homes in two months.

    “Since 1 December, some 520,000 people have been displaced from their homes, the vast majority - 80 percent - of them women and children,” David Swanson, spokesman for the UN Office for the Coordination of Humanitarian Affairs, said on Tuesday.

    He added that the latest wave of displacement compounded “an already dire humanitarian situation” that saw more than 400,000 people displaced from the end of April through the end of August, many of them multiple times.

    Swanson said the UN was alarmed by the plight of more than three million people - half of whom were transferred there en masse from other parts of Syria that were taken by government forces - who live in Idlib province and the surrounding areas.

    Last Saturday, UNICEF, the UN’s children agency, said the violence has forced 6,500 children to flee daily, and estimated that 1.2 million children “are in desperate need” amid short supplies of food, water and medicine.

    According to the World Health Organization (WHO), more than 50 health facilities have suspended their services as of January 31.

    “The current situation in northwest Syria - characterised by lack of access and medicine, insufficient hygiene, chaos and mass displacement - poses a significant risk of outbreaks of measles, diarrhoeal diseases and other diseases,” said Rick Brennan, WHO’s regional emergency director.

    “Northwest Syria represents one of the world’s most severe humanitarian crises, where civilians are suffering on an extraordinary level,” he added, calling for “a renewed international commitment to bring an end to this protracted and devastating crisis”.

    Pushing refugees closer to Turkish border

    In recent weeks, Syrian government troops and allied militias, backed by Russian and other forces, have ramped up the pressure on the last rebel enclave in the country.

    They have retaken dozens of villages and some major towns - including the erstwhile rebel bastion of Maaret al-Numan - and are pushing northwards, sending displaced populations ever closer to the Turkish border.

    Turkey, which hosts more than 3.5 million Syrian refugees and is wary of a new influx, has in recent days sent military vehicles, trucks and other reinforcements to the region,

    Tensions rose on Monday as Ankara said at least seven Turkish soldiers and one civilian contractor working with the Turkish military were killed in shelling by Syrian government forces in Idlib.

    Turkey retaliated by hitting 54 targets in Idlib and “neutralising” 76 Syrian government soldiers, the state-owned Anadolu agency quoted Defence Minister Hulusi Akar as saying.

    The developments threaten to cause friction between Turkey and Russia, who have sought to coordinate their actions in Syria even though they back opposite sides in the conflict.

    https://www.aljazeera.com/news/2020/02/northwest-syria-fighting-displaces-500000-2-months-200204090158411.html

    #Syrie #guerre #conflit #IDPs #déplacés_internes #réfugiés

  • Climate change ’impacts women more than men’ - BBC News
    https://www.bbc.com/news/science-environment-43294221

    Women are more likely than men to be affected by climate change, studies show.

    UN figures indicate that 80% of people displaced by climate change are women.

    Roles as primary caregivers and providers of food and fuel make them more vulnerable when flooding and drought occur.

  • Plusieurs millions de nouveaux réfugiés et déplacés climatiques en 2019

    Un porte-parole du Haut-commissariat aux réfugiés (HCR) de l’ONU a déclaré mercredi que des millions de nouveaux déplacés et réfugiés climatiques étaient apparus en 2019, dont près de 750 000 personnes pour la seule Somalie, en proie à d’intenses aléas climatiques.

    “Le bruit du vent nous a réveillés en pleine nuit. Quelques instants plus tard, de l’eau a commencé à entrer chez nous. Nous avons seulement réussi à attraper nos enfants avant de nous enfuir vers une zone surélevée.” Rafael Domingo, un père de quatre enfants, a tout perdu lors du passage du cyclone Idaien mars dernier au Mozambique. Comme lui, 73 000 personnes se sont retrouvées sans-abri, ne laissant d’autre choix que de fuir les zones sinistrées, ont raconté de nombreux témoins à l’Organisation internationale pour les migrations (OIM).

    Qu’ils changent simplement de région ou qu’ils quittent leur pays après une catastrophe naturelle, ces hommes et ces femmes incarnent une catégorie de migrants dont on parle peu : les déplacés et les réfugiés climatiques. Selon le Conseiller spécial sur l’action pour le climat du HCR, Andrew Harper, “rien que sur la première moitié de l’année, les tempêtes, les inondations et autres catastrophes ont provoqué plusieurs millions de nouveaux déplacements”.

    Dans un discours alarmant prononcé à la COP 25 de Madrid, mercredi 11 décembre, le porte-parole onusien explique que “les changements climatiques amplifient la fréquence et l’intensité des catastrophes naturelles et qu’ils contribuent à fragiliser les populations et à déclencher des conflits”. Il estime par conséquent que “davantage de personnes seront menacées de déplacement à moins qu’une action urgente ne soit prise.”

    Outre les catastrophes naturelles, Andrew Harper s’est dit “particulièrement préoccupé” par l’épuisement des ressources naturelles, la diminution des rendements agricoles ou encore la pénurie de bétail qui deviennent “des multiplicateurs de menaces de conflit et d’instabilité pouvant conduire à des crises humanitaires et à de nouveaux déplacements, à la fois en interne et au-delà des frontières.”

    En première ligne de ces menaces climatiques, la région du Sahel voit déjà des effets dévastateurs. “En Somalie, un pays hautement vulnérable aux changements climatiques, plus de 746 000 personnes ont été déplacées au sein du pays cette année à cause de l’intensification de la sécheresse, mais aussi des inondations monstres et des conflits”, souligne Andrew Harper.

    Dans les régions fragiles, souvent frappées par les catastrophes naturelles, les déplacés parviennent rarement à retrouver leur ancienne vie. “Beaucoup d’entre nous ne pourrons jamais rentrer chez eux. La sécheresse en Somalie revient tout le temps. Les habitants n’ont pas assez de temps ou de moyens pour se remettre sur pieds à chaque fois”, a expliqué à l’OIM Halima, une mère de trois enfants déplacée en Somalie à cause de la sécheresse.
    Plus de 250 millions de réfugiés climatiques en 2050
    Dans son dernier rapport sur la paix dans le monde paru en juin, l’Institute for Economics and Peace, un think tank australien, estimait à 18 millions le nombre de personnes forcées à quitter leur foyer à cause d’une catastrophe naturelle. Cela correspond à plus de 60% de l’intégralité des déplacements dans le monde en 2017.
    Les auteurs du même rapport notent également qu’actuellement, près d’un milliard de personnes vivent dans des zones “hautement à très hautement” exposées aux aléas climatiques. Ainsi, des millions de personnes risquent de se déplacer ou migrer dans un futur proche. La Banque mondiale estime que d’ici 2050, on dénombrera 143 millions de migrants climatiques originaires d’Afrique sub-saharienne, d’Asie du sud-est et d’Amérique latine. Au total, ils pourraient même dépasser les 250 millions à l’échelle de la planète, selon les prévisions de l’ONU.

    Depuis la COP 25 Madrid, le HCR a appelé à “une action urgente” notamment en mettant en place des systèmes de prévision et d’alerte précoce améliorés ainsi que des stratégies de réduction des risques. Il s’agit également “d’intensifier les efforts d’adaptation et de résilience” en diversifiant, par exemple, les sources de revenus des populations fragiles qui dépendent souvent entièrement de l’agriculture ou de la pêche, par exemple.

    L’agence onusienne appelle également les pays accueillant des réfugiés à instaurer un véritable cadre de protection pour les populations déplacées par le climat. À ce jour, les catastrophes naturelles et autres événements dus au réchauffement de la planète ne constituent pas un argument permettant de demander l’asile, les déplacés environnementaux n’ont d’ailleurs aucun statut juridique défini comme c’est le cas pour les réfugiés. La Suède fait toutefois figure de pionnière en la matière en reconnaissant depuis 2005, le droit à la protection pour les personnes victimes de catastrophes environnementales. Depuis 2009, une quarantaine de pays africains a également ratifié la Convention de Kampala sur la protection et l’assistance des déplacés environnementaux inter-Afrique.

    Les questions climatiques occuperont une place de choix à l’occasion du tout premier Forum mondial sur les réfugiés, les 17 et 18 décembre prochains à Genève, puisqu’il s’agira de l’un des six thèmes fondamentaux discutés et pouvant, comme l’espère Andrew Harper du HCR, donner lieu à des actions concrètes dès 2020.

    https://www.infomigrants.net/fr/post/21507/plusieurs-millions-de-nouveaux-refugies-et-deplaces-climatiques-en-201
    #IDPs #réfugiés_climatiques #réfugiés_environnmentaux #déplacés_internes #asile #migrations #réfugiés #climat #prévisions #Somalie #sans-abri #catastrophe_naturelle #changements_climatiques #Sahel #COP_25 #risques #protection #statut #Convention_de_Kampala

    Lien entre changements climatiques et #conflits :

    Outre les catastrophes naturelles, #Andrew_Harper s’est dit “particulièrement préoccupé” par l’épuisement des ressources naturelles, la diminution des rendements agricoles ou encore la pénurie de bétail qui deviennent “des multiplicateurs de menaces de conflit et d’#instabilité pouvant conduire à des #crises_humanitaires et à de nouveaux déplacements, à la fois en interne et au-delà des frontières.”

    #guerre

    • Asile : réfugié climatique, un statut non reconnu mais qui compte

      L’ONU prévoit 250 millions de réfugiés climatiques d’ici à 2050 dont une grande partie sera issue d’une Afrique sub-saharienne pas assez résiliente face à l’intensification des catastrophes naturelles. Le phénomène pourrait amplifier les départs de migrants vers l’Europe, sauf que le statut de réfugié climatique n’y est pas reconnu.

      Sécheresses, inondations, ouragans : les épisodes météorologiques dévastateurs sont de plus en plus fréquents et de plus en plus intenses sous l’effet du changement climatique. Si aucune région du monde n’est épargnée, toutes n’ont pas la même propension à la résilience ni les mêmes capacités de reconstruction.

      En Afrique sub-saharienne, au Moyen-Orient ou en Asie, des pans entiers de population sont déjà contraints de quitter leur région ou même leur pays d’origine pour tenter de tout recommencer ailleurs. Ce sont des “réfugiés climatiques”.

      Si le terme est apparu pour la première fois en 1985 dans un rapport du Programme des Nations Unies pour l’environnement (PNUE), il n’existe à ce jour dans le monde aucun statut juridique pour ces déplacés environnementaux. La Suède fait toutefois figure de pionnière en la matière en reconnaissant depuis 2005, le droit à la protection pour les personnes victimes de catastrophes environnementales. Depuis 2009, une quarantaine de pays africains a également ratifié la Convention de Kampala sur la protection et l’assistance des déplacés environnementaux inter-Afrique. Et plus récemment, début novembre, la Nouvelle-Zélande a annoncé se pencher sur la création d’un visa spécial pour les réfugiés climatiques du Pacifique.

      Reste que pour la plupart des pays de la planète, le changement climatique ne peut justifier une demande d’asile. En France, notamment, “ce n’est pas un argument recevable en tant que tel, mais il peut être pris en compte et ajouté au dossier dans certains cas”, indique une porte-parole de France Terre d’Asile, contactée par InfoMigrants. “Si le changement climatique vous force, par exemple, à partir de chez vous pour une région où votre ethnie est mal acceptée ou menacée, l’argument pourra être entendu. Mais on ne reconnaît que ce qui est de la main de l’Homme. Le climat ne peut être utilisé que comme un élément de compréhension au dossier”, précise l’ONG.

      “Une crise migratoire en Europe ? Attendez de voir dans 20 ans...”

      Selon les estimations de l’ONU, le monde comptera au moins 250 millions de réfugiés climatiques d’ici 2050. En moins de 10 ans, les dangers liés au climat “déplacent en moyenne 21,7 millions de personnes par an, soit 59 600 par jour”, souligne Steve Trent, directeur exécutif de la Fondation pour la justice environnementale (EJF), dans un rapport publié début novembre. “Si l’Europe pense avoir un problème avec la crise migratoire actuelle, attendez de voir dans 20 ans quand les conséquences du changement climatique forcera des millions de personnes à quitter l’Afrique”, enchérit le général Stephen Cheney, retraité de l’armée américaine, cité par le rapport.

      “Il faut regarder les choses en face : l’Afrique a une population jeune et de plus en plus éduquée. L’enseignement est dispensé dans des langues comme l’anglais, le français, l’espagnol, le portugais… alors bien sûr, l’Europe est une meilleure destination aux yeux de ces jeunes [...] Et il est impossible d’arrêter cette migration”, explique Ibrahim Thiaw, directeur exécutif de l’agence pour l’environnement de l’ONU, joint à Nairobi par InfoMigrants.

      Parmi les régions les plus vulnérables : le Sahel, jusqu’à la Somalie, affirme-t-il, des régions où la production agricole est cruciale. Elle représente par exemple 30% du produit intérieur brut en Sierra Leone, au Liberia ou en Centrafrique. Dix-sept des vingt pays les plus dépendants à l’agriculture au monde se trouvent en Afrique sub-saharienne.

      Le changement climatique, un amplificateur des conflits

      “En combinant l’accroissement démographique -l’Afrique comptera 2 milliards d’habitants en 2050- à la dégradation des ressources naturelles et leur mauvaise gestion, la seule issue possible c’est la migration, poursuit Ibrahim Thiaw. Les déplacés climatiques sont un phénomène déjà présent, qui s’accentue de jour en jour sans que l’on puisse véritablement le quantifier car beaucoup de paramètres entrent en jeu et nous n’avons même pas de définition claire de ce qu’est un réfugié climatique.”

      Un statut qui pourrait ne jamais être reconnu internationalement, bien que le rôle du changement climatique dans les conflits actuels soit démontrable. “En Syrie, on comptait déjà 1,3 et 1,5 million de personnes fuyant la sécheresse avant même que la guerre ne commence. Personne ne dit que le changement climatique est la raison du conflit syrien, mais il est à ne pas en douter un ‘amplificateur des menaces’ pouvant mener à des violences”, argue Steve Trent de l’EJF.

      Si Ibrahim Thiaw de l’ONU ne croit pas, pour l’heure, à une convention mondiale sur les réfugiés climatiques, il exhorte la communauté internationale mettre en place et appliquer des accords régionaux sur le modèle de la Convention de Kampala encore trop méconnue. Il encourage aussi les potentiels migrants à bien réfléchir à leur projet migratoire avant de se lancer aveuglément sur des routes souvent dangereuses à travers le désert, les forêts tropicales ou la Méditerranée. “Un pays comme l’Ouganda est très accueillant. Il n’y a pas de camp de réfugiés et ils sont exemplaires sur l’intégration”, conclut-il.

      https://www.infomigrants.net/fr/post/6031/asile-refugie-climatique-un-statut-non-reconnu-mais-qui-compte

    • Groundswell : Preparing for Internal Climate Migration

      This report, which focuses on three regions—Sub-Saharan Africa, South Asia, and Latin America that together represent 55 percent of the developing world’s population—finds that climate change will push tens of millions of people to migrate within their countries by 2050. It projects that without concrete climate and development action, just over 143 million people—or around 2.8 percent of the population of these three regions—could be forced to move within their own countries to escape the slow-onset impacts of climate change. They will migrate from less viable areas with lower water availability and crop productivity and from areas affected by rising sea level and storm surges. The poorest and most climate vulnerable areas will be hardest hit. These trends, alongside the emergence of “hotspots” of climate in- and out-migration, will have major implications for climate-sensitive sectors and for the adequacy of infrastructure and social support systems. The report finds that internal climate migration will likely rise through 2050 and then accelerate unless there are significant cuts in greenhouse gas emissions and robust development action.


      https://openknowledge.worldbank.org/handle/10986/29461
      #rapport

  • Let’s Talk About Climate Migrants, Not Climate Refugees

    “At first, we woke up to the sound of the wind and right after that the water came streaming into our house. We only managed to grab our children and run away to an area which lies on higher ground,” explains Rafael Domingo, a father of four in Mozambique, where Cyclone Idai left more than 73,000 people homeless in March 2019.

    In 2018 alone, 17.2 million new displacements associated with disasters in 148 countries and territories were recorded (IDMC) and 764,000 people in Somalia, Afghanistan and several other countries were displaced following drought (IOM).

    “Many people who were displaced cannot return home. The drought in Somalia is happening all the time. People have no way to recover,” said Halima, a 30-year-old mother of three displaced in Somalia because of the drought.

    Climate migrants have been invisible for many years on the migration and climate debates. Our work at IOM has been focused for over 10 years on bringing climatic and environmental factors to the light and on building a body of evidence proving that climate change affects – directly and indirectly – human mobility.

    Hence, it might seem paradoxical in this context not to encourage the establishment of a climate specific legal status, parallel to the existing refugees’ status.

    However, while the available evidence on how climate change and environmental degradation affect human mobility is growing and is uncontested, the current focus of the debate on establishing a climate refugee status can lead to a narrow and biased debate and would provide only partial solutions to address the complexity of human mobility and climate change.

    Media are pushing again and again for features on “climate refugees” and request projections on how many climate refugees there will be in twenty years. In contrast, some emblematic small island States, among others, speak out that they do not wish to become climate refugees; they want to be able to stay in their homes, or to move in dignity and through regular channels without abandoning everything behind.

    “When the grass is not enough, movement increases. In the spring, many migrants moved from the south to the north. There is no other way to overcome climate change. All the people wish to survive with their animals and come to a place where they can fatten their livestock,” said Mr. Chinbat, a herder of Sergelen soum in Mongolia, where the adverse effects of climate change are impacting the migration of herders.

    The image of “climate refugees” resonates metaphorically to all as it mirrors the current images we see of those escaping wars and conflicts. With the threat of climate change we imagine millions becoming refugees in the future.

    Yet reducing the issue of migration in the context of climate change to the status of “climate refugees” fails to recognize a number of key aspects that define human mobility in the context of climate change and environmental degradation. Here are 10 of these aspects:

    Climate migration is mainly internal: when migration is internal, people moving are under the responsibility of their own state, they do not cross borders and are not seeking protection from a third country or at the international level.
    Migration is not necessarily forced, especially for very slow onset processes migration is still a matter of choice, even if constrained, so countries need to think first migration management and agreements rather than refugee protection.
    Isolating environment/climatic reasons is difficult, in particular from humanitarian, political, social, conflict or economic ones. It can sometimes be an impossible task and may lead to long and unrealistic legal procedures.
    Creating a special refugee status for climate change related reasons might unfortunately have the opposite effects of what is sought as a solution: it can lead to the exclusion of categories of people who are in need of protection, especially the poorest migrants who move because of a mix of factors and would not be able to prove the link to climate and environmental factors.
    Opening the 1951 Refugee Convention might weaken the refugee status which would be tragic given the state of our world where so many people are in need of protection because of persecution and ongoing conflicts.
    Creating a new convention might be a terribly lengthy political process and countries might not have an appetite for it. Many responses can come from migration management and policy as highlighted already in the 2011 International Dialogue on Migration and the recently adopted Global Compact for Safe, Orderly and Regular Migration. The Nansen Initiative that was launched to look at gaps in protection for people being displaced across borders by disasters, after undertaking thematic and regional consultations also concluded with a document that proposes a “toolkit” of migration policies rather than recommending the establishment of a new status for these people.
    Climate migration discussions should not lose their focus on preventive measures: the key objective of our generation is to invest in climate and environmental solutions for our planet so that people will not have to leave their homes in a forced way in the future. The Paris Agreement offers anchorage for climate action that considers human mobility to avert, minimize and address displacement in the context of climate change.
    IOM encourages the full use of all already existing bodies of laws and instruments, both hard and soft law in humanitarian, human rights and refugee law, instruments on internal displacement, disaster management, legal migration and others.
    Human rights-based approaches are key for addressing climate migration: states of origin bear the primary responsibility for their citizens’ protection even if indeed their countries have not been the main contributors to global warming; they should therefore apply human rights-based approaches for their citizens moving because of environmental or climatic drivers.
    Regular migration pathways can provide relevant protection for climate migrants and facilitate migration strategies in response to environmental factors. Many migration management solutions are available to respond to challenges posed by climate change, environmental degradation and disasters in terms of international migratory movements and can provide a status for people who move in the context of climate change impacts, such as humanitarian visas, temporary protection, authorization to stay, regional and bilateral free movements’ agreements, among several others.

    https://www.un.org/sustainabledevelopment/blog/2019/06/lets-talk-about-climate-migrants-not-climate-refugees
    #migrants_environnementaux #réfugiés_environnementaux
    #terminologie #vocabulaire #mots #terminologie #déplacés_internes #IDPs

    ping @sinehebdo @reka @karine4 @isskein

  • Paperless people of #post-conflict Iraq

    During the conflict with the Islamic State group (IS), six million Iraqi citizens were forced to flee their homes. Since the end of the conflict, more than four million have returned home, while 1.7 million people still live in displacement. These families struggle to access basic services and face often insurmountable roadblocks to either returning home or rebuilding a life elsewhere. Many, whether still in displacement or returned home, are unable to enjoy their rights as Iraqi citizens and fully engage in the recovery and reconstruction of post-conflict Iraq.

    A foundational reason for this is they do not have proof of their legal identity. Some people lost their documents as they fled their homes; others had them confiscated by various parties to the conflict; and yet others were issued IS documentation, which is of no value now. These paperless people, as a result of lacking critical state-issued civil documents, such as birth certificates, marriage certificates, nationality cards and civil IDs, find themselves denied human rights, barred from a range of public services and excluded from recovery and reconstruction efforts.

    Local and international humanitarian agencies like the Norwegian Refugee Council (NRC), the Danish Refugee Council (DRC) and the International Rescue Committee (IRC) have collectively helped tens of thousands of Iraqis over the last few years obtain, renew, or replace civil documents lost as a result of the most recent crisis. However, an estimated 80,000 families across the country still have family i members missing at least one civil document. The number of children missing documents is likely much higher. At least 45,000 displaced children living in camps alone are estimated to be missing birth certificates. Without these essential civil papers, they are at risk of statelessness and find it incredibly difficult to access services such as education and healthcare.

    This report, based on research conducted by NRC in partnership with DRC and IRC, through the Cash Consortium for Iraq (CCI) shows how a significant portion of Iraqi families living in urban areas formerly under IS control are being denied basic services because they are paperless.


    https://www.nrc.no/resources/reports/paperless-people-of-post-conflict-iraq
    #papiers_d'identité #réfugiés #asile #migrations #apatridie #Irak #guerre #conflit #IDPs #déplacés_internes
    #rapport

  • Guns, Filth and #ISIS: Syrian Camp Is ‘Disaster in the Making’

    In the desert camp in northeastern Syria where tens of thousands of Islamic State fighters’ wives and children have been trapped for months in miserable conditions with no prospects of leaving, ISIS sympathizers regularly torch the tents of women deemed infidels.

    Fights between camp residents have brought smuggled guns into the open, and some women have attacked or threatened others with knives and hammers. Twice, in June and July, women stabbed the Kurdish guards who were escorting them, sending the camp into lockdown.

    Virtually all women wear the niqab, the full-length black veil demanded by ISIS’s rigid interpretation of Islam — some because they still adhere to the group’s ideology, others because they fear running afoul of the true believers.

    The Kurdish-run #Al_Hol camp is struggling to secure and serve nearly 70,000 displaced people, mainly women and children who fled there during the last battle to oust the Islamic State from eastern Syria. Filled with women stripped of hope and children who regularly die before receiving medical care, it has become what aid workers, researchers and American military officials warn is a disaster in the making.
    Image

    The daily ordeals of overcrowded latrines and contaminated water, limited medical care, flaring tensions between residents and guards, and chronic security problems have left the residents embittered and vulnerable. A recent Pentagon report that cautioned that ISIS was regrouping across Iraq and Syria said ISIS ideology has been able to spread “uncontested” at the camp.

    It is impossible to know how many of the women are ISIS believers, and many have publicly disavowed the group. But a stubborn core of followers is menacing the rest with threats, intimidation and, occasionally, violence, aid workers and researchers who have interviewed Al Hol residents said.

    The result is something more like a prison than a camp, a place where security concerns often overwhelm humanitarian ones — which only heightens the danger, according to aid workers and researchers who described conditions there to The New York Times.

    “Living in conditions that are difficult and being surrounded by people who are highly radical — is that conducive to deradicalization?” said Elizabeth Tsurkov, a fellow at the Forum for Regional Thinking who researches Syria and Iraq, and who has visited the camp twice recently.
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    “This is a place that can possibly radicalize someone, but certainly doesn’t help deradicalize anyone,” she added.

    Yet few have been able to leave.

    The Iraqis face being ostracized for their ISIS associations or sent to detention camps if they return to Iraq, which has been executing people accused of being ISIS members in what watchdogs and journalists have called sham trials. The Syrians may not have homes to go back to.

    And the roughly 10,000 foreigners from at least 50 other countries are largely unwanted at home.

    The Kurdish authorities overseeing the camp have pleaded for the non-Syrians to be allowed to return to their own countries, saying they are not equipped to detain them indefinitely. But only a few countries, including Kazakhstan, Uzbekistan and Tajikistan, have repatriated their citizens on a large scale, with the occasional exception of a few young children whom Western governments have agreed to take back.

    “They’re in no man’s land. They’re in limbo,” said Sara Kayyali, a Syria researcher at Human Rights Watch who visited the camp earlier this year. “They’re stuck in the desert in a camp that’s not equipped for their needs, with children who grew up in the worst possible conditions, only to get to a place where things are, if possible, even worse.”

    Adding to their frustration, the women have little information about where their ISIS fighter husbands are. Authorities at first told them that they would be reunited with their relatives or at least be allowed to speak to them, but little has come of that promise, partly because contact is seen as a security risk.

    “I’m struggling to reconcile the two things, wanting to look at them as displaced people and human,” said Dareen Khalifa, an International Crisis Group analyst who has visited the camp, but some of the women are “very ideological, and the atmosphere is very ripe for all sorts of indoctrination of little kids and of women who just don’t know what’s going to happen to them or their families.”

    The struggles of daily life have not helped.

    The tents were freezing cold in the winter and have been swelteringly hot this summer, with temperatures rising as high as 122 degrees. Much of the water is contaminated with E. coli. Human Rights Watch researchers saw children drinking water from a tank with worms coming out of the spout, according to a report the group released in July, and the skin of many women and children they saw was pocked with sores caused by a parasite.

    Conditions are especially poor in the so-called annex, where those who are neither Syrian nor Iraqi are housed, including more than 7,000 children — about two-thirds of whom are younger than 12 — and 3,000 women.

    Annex residents are not allowed to leave their section without a guard. The authorities have also restricted aid groups’ access to the annex, making it difficult to provide much more than basics like water and food, aid workers said.

    As a result, children in the annex are going without school and other services. There is not even a playground.

    “We fear that the narrative of a radicalized population has played a role in hindering humanitarian access,” said Misty Buswell, a spokeswoman for the International Rescue Committee. “The youngest and most vulnerable are paying the highest price and suffering for the perceived misdeeds of their parents.”

    Aid groups are gradually expanding services to keep up with the camp’s population, which leapt from under 10,000 at the end of 2018, to more than 72,000 as ISIS lost its last territory in March. But donors are wary of supporting a camp perceived to be housing hardened ISIS followers.

    Medical care in the annex is limited to two small clinics, neither of which operates overnight, and women from the annex must clear numerous hurdles to be referred to an outside hospital. Women there regularly give birth in a tent without a doctor or a midwife, aid workers said.

    The number of child deaths — mostly from treatable conditions like severe malnutrition, diarrhea and pneumonia — has nearly tripled since March, Ms. Buswell said. Between December and August, the deaths of 306 children under 5 have been recorded at the camp, she said. Almost a third of them were in the annex, double or sometimes triple the rate of deaths elsewhere in the camp, often because children there cannot get medical care, she said.

    The women’s grievances are on display in the group chat channels where some of them congregate, which simmer with violent videos, sinister rumors and desperation.

    One recurring message in the group-chat app Telegram holds, without evidence, that Kurdish guards are kidnapping children and forcing them to serve in Kurdish militias. Another rumor falsely claims that camp residents’ organs are being sold. Others allege murders, sexual assaults and rapes. Many of the posts are pure ISIS propaganda, including beheading videos and vows to rebuild the so-called caliphate.

    Given that residents are being guarded by the same military force that fought their husbands and sons, the American-backed Syrian Democratic Forces, the tensions may have been inevitable. The families who arrived between December and March were among the most committed of the group’s followers, Ms. Tsurkov said, choosing to leave only as the last shreds of the caliphate were being bombarded.

    Aid workers and researchers said the guards often raid women’s tents at night, confiscating items or relocating families for what they say are security reasons, and fire into the air to keep order. Guards have confiscated women’s cash and valuables, leaving them without money to buy fresh food for their children, according to Human Rights Watch. Women in the annex are not allowed to have cellphones, though some do anyway.

    A spokesman for the camp did not reply to a request for comment for this article. But the camp authorities, as well as some aid workers and researchers, have said extra security measures were warranted by the frequent outbreaks of bullying, harassment and violence.

    The Pentagon report said local forces did not have enough resources to provide more than “minimal security,” allowing extremist ideology to spread unchecked.

    “It’s a cycle of violence,” said Ms. Kayyali, the Human Rights Watch researcher. “ISIS has committed atrocities against the world. Policymakers don’t want to deal with anyone connected to ISIS. Then they’re re-radicalized by mistreatment, and they go back to what they know.”

    https://www.nytimes.com/2019/09/03/world/middleeast/isis-alhol-camp-syria.html
    #réfugiés #asile #migrations #déplacés_internes #IDPs #Syrie #réfugiés_syriens #Etat_islamique #violence #Kurdes #Kurdistan_syrien #radicalisation

    • Dans le nord-est de la Syrie, la mort lente des #prisonniers djihadistes

      « Le Monde » a pu accéder à l’un des centres gérés par les forces kurdes. S’y entassent des centaines de détenus, les derniers irréductibles du « califat » du groupe Etat islamique, souvent blessés ou mourants.

      La mort a une odeur. Le désespoir aussi ; son effluve se mêle à celle de la maladie, de la dysenterie, de la chair humaine que la vie, peu à peu, abandonne. Quand la porte de la cellule réservée aux malades de cette prison pour membres de l’organisation Etat islamique (EI) du nord-est de la Syrie s’ouvre sur d’innombrables détenus en combinaisons orange, entassés les uns sur les autres sur toute la superficie d’une pièce de la taille d’un hangar, c’est bien cette odeur-là qui étreint la poitrine.

      Les responsables de la prison, appartenant aux forces kurdes de sécurité, ne connaissent pas le nombre d’hommes et d’enfants qui gisent là, entre le monde des vivants et celui des morts. « On ne peut pas les compter. Ça change tout le temps. » Certains guérissent et regagnent leurs cellules. D’autres meurent.


      https://www.lemonde.fr/international/article/2019/10/31/au-nord-est-de-la-syrie-dans-une-prison-de-djihadistes-de-l-ei-tous-les-jour

  • South Sudan displacement crisis still desperate, one year after peace deal

    One year on from the signing of the peace agreement, millions of South Sudanese remain displaced as the country continues to face a humanitarian crisis and people fear that peace may not last, according to a new report published today.

    Women, who lead the vast majority of displaced households, may be especially vulnerable, including facing the threat of sexual violence. While some women have begun returning to South Sudan, many are not going back to their homes but seeking a safer and better place to live.

    The report, No Simple Solutions: Women, Displacement and Durable Solutions in South Sudan, is by Oxfam, Norwegian Refugee Council (NRC), Care Foundation, Danish Refugee Council, and South Sudanese organizations, Nile Hope and Titi Foundation. It highlights the experiences of women in transit and the conditions they need in order to return home.

    After five years of brutal conflict, more than seven million South Sudanese – over half the country’s population - are in need of humanitarian assistance. Homes, schools and hospitals have been destroyed and it will take years for essential infrastructure and services to recover.

    The conflict created the largest displacement crisis in Africa with over 4.3 million people forced to flee their homes; 1.8 million people are internally displaced and there are 2.3 million refugees in the region.

    Elysia Buchanan, South Sudan policy lead, Oxfam said: “Since the signing of the revitalized peace deal, armed clashes between parties have reduced, bringing tentative hope to many. But because of the slow implementation of the deal, many women told us they are still not sure if lasting peace is at hand.”

    The civil war also fueled the rise of sexual violence, including rape as a weapon of war, and the abduction of women and girls who were forced into sexual slavery.

    With the sheer scale of the crisis, and endemic levels of sexual and gender-based violence, a South Sudanese woman activist quoted in the report warned humanitarian agencies against rushing to support people to return home. “This would be like throwing people from one frying pan to another. Humanitarian actors should take things slow, until refugees and internally displaced people can move themselves.”

    Due to the ongoing humanitarian crisis, people returning from neighboring countries often find themselves in more difficult conditions than when they were displaced, including struggling to find somewhere to live.

    Connolly Butterfield, Protection and Gender Specialist of NRC, said: “Time and again, women spoke to us of the challenges they face in returning to their homes. They make the journey back, only to find that their houses and properties were completely destroyed, or had already been occupied by strangers, sometimes soldiers. Some of the women said that if they try to reclaim their properties, they have no means of support. They are more likely to be threatened or exposed to physical or sexual assault,” said

    Because the context still poses risks, all actors should take a long-term, community-driven vision around supporting the conditions required to deliver a lasting end to the displacement crisis, to mitigate the risk of people falling into an endless cycle of movement. It is estimated some 60 percent of displaced South Sudanese have been displaced more than once, and one in 10 have been displaced more than five times.

    Buchanan said: “Helping people return to their homes and rebuild their lives is our goal. But by ignoring or downplaying the issues that make returning dangerous, or not ensuring people have adequate information on what they are coming home to, humanitarian agencies could inadvertently endanger people or make their lives worse.

    The international community must only support the return of internally displaced people if conditions are safe and dignified, and the decision to return is informed and voluntary. The humanitarian response must be sensitive to the needs of women and girls, taking into consideration the country’s harmful gender norms.

    Martha Nyakueka, Gender and Protection Coordinatior of the national NGO Nile Hope, said: “After years of conflict, it will take time for the country to recover. . The warring parties who signed the peace deal must ensure that the agreement leads to lasting changes on the ground, not just in terms of security, but also in terms of improving the lives of the South Sudanese people.”


    https://www.nrc.no/news/2019/september/south-sudan-displacement-crisis-still-desperate-one-year-after-peace-deal
    #Soudan_du_sud #asile #migrations #IDPs #déplacés_internes #réfugiés #paix #accord_de_paix

  • Former MP, investors evict thousands in Kiryandongo
    https://observer.ug/news/headlines/61572-former-mp-investors-evict-thousands-in-kiryandongo

    Former Kiryandongo district Member of Parliament (MP), Baitera Maiteki, an American and an Indian investor have been accused of evicting thousands of people in the western districts of Kiryandongo and Masindi.

    The evicted people were living in the gazetted government ranches in Mutunda and Kiryandongo sub-counties along the River Nile. Kiryandongo Sugar, allegedly owned by some Indians, Agilis, owned by an American called Philip Investor, and Sole Agro Business Company, also owned by Indians, have been named in the evictions.

    Agilis is said to have bought ranches 21-22, from SODARI, an agricultural farm that collapsed. SODARI got a lease from government, which ends in 2025. However, it was revealed to the Land Commission of Inquiry that Agilis, bought land that was leased, yet legally, no one is supposed to buy leased land.

    Agro Business was reportedly given about 60 hectares and displaced all people in the area. Kiryandongo Sugar also forcefully evicted people in the area and ploughed all the land, denying some residents farmland and access roads.

    #Ouganda #évictions_forcées #terres

  • Au Cameroun, Greenpeace Africa plaide pour la sécurisation des terres des peuples autochtones
    http://www.lescoopsdafrique.com/2019/08/09/au-cameroungreenpeace-africa-plaide-pour-la-securisation-des-terre

    Les 8 et 9 août à l’esplanade du stade omnisport de #Yaoundé, les #peuples_autochtones attirent une fois de plus l’attention du gouvernement camerounais vis-à-vis de l’impact négatif de l’acquisition des #terres à grande échelle pour l’#agriculture_industrielle sur leur vie, et en même temps, sensibilisent l’opinion tant national qu’internationale sur la nécessité de pérennisation de leur patrimoine culturel.

    “ Nous avons été déplacés de la #forêt sans plan de relocalisation et au profit de la #plantation industrielle de la compagnie #SudCam. Il est essentiel que, pour un projet de grande envergure comme celui de SudCam, nous, les #Baka soyons consultés au préalable, car nous sommes les premiers gardiens de la forêt et devrions en être les premiers bénéficiaires. Le gouvernement doit nous impliquer dans le processus d’acquisition des terres car cela a un impact sur notre vie”, a déclaré Yemelle Parfait, un leader Baka du village d’#Edjom dans le Sud #Cameroon.

  • Quand l’exploitation minière divise la Grèce

    Dans une vaste plaine au coeur des #montagnes du nord de la Grèce, quatre mines de charbon laissent un paysage dévasté. Alors que cet ensemble d’exploitations à ciel ouvert, principal pourvoyeur d’emplois de la région, s’étend toujours plus, les glissements de terrain se multiplient, ravageant les villages environnants.

    Entre relogements aléatoires, maladies liées à l’extraction du lignite et refus d’indemnisations, le combat des citoyens pour se faire entendre se heurte à un mur.


    https://www.arte.tv/fr/videos/084754-002-A/arte-regards-quand-l-exploitation-miniere-divise-la-grece
    #extractivisme #Grèce #charbon #mines #pollution #énergie #destruction #IDPs #déplacés_internes #travail #exploitation #centrales_thermiques #sanctions #privatisation #DEI #lignite #santé #expropriation #villes-fantôme #agriculture #Allemagne #KFW #Mavropigi #effondrement #indemnisation #justice #migrations #centrales_électriques #documentaire #terres #confiscation #conflits #contamination #pollution_de_l'air

    ping @albertocampiphoto @daphne

  • Niger : 100 000 nouveaux réfugiés et déplacés

    L’ONU tire à nouveau la sonnette d’alarme au Niger, pays en proie à l’#insécurité où les activités des #groupes_armés, notamment #Boko_Haram, sont à l’origine de nombreux déplacements de populations. L’ONU estime ainsi que cette année, quelque 2,3 millions de personnes, soit 10,4% de la population, auront besoin d’une assistance humanitaire. Un constat établi jeudi lors d’une réunion entre agences de l’ONU, des représentants d’ONG et des partenaires.

    Depuis le mois de janvier, plus de 100 000 nouveaux #réfugiés et déplacés ont été recensés au Niger, alors que le pays en abritait déjà quelque 300 000. Et les inquiétudes sont localisées. À #Diffa notamment, dans le sud-est, région frontalière de l’État nigérian de #Borno, les groupes armés tels que Boko Haram ont provoqué le mouvement d’environ 25 000 personnes.

    Toujours près de cette frontière nigériane, mais plus à l’ouest, dans la région de #Maradi, ce sont ici environ 20 000 Nigérians qui ont fui les #violences de leur pays.

    Il y a aussi les zones proches des #frontières maliennes et burkinabè, dans les régions de #Tahoua et #Tillabéry. Des zones très instables selon l’ONU qui ont vu l’arrivée de 70 000 personnes.

    Pour faire face à cette situation, il faut de l’argent. Pourtant, les Nations unies déplorent un manque de ressources. Pour 2019, les besoins humanitaires sont chiffrés à 383 millions de dollars, mais sur cette somme, seuls 15% ont pu être mobilisés à l’heure actuelle.


    https://www.infomigrants.net/fr/post/17401/niger-100-000-nouveaux-refugies-et-deplaces?ref=tw_i
    #Niger #migrations #IDPs #déplacés_internes #instabilité

    ping @karine4 @isskein

    • Ces réfugiés dans leur propre pays

      En 2018, il y a eu autant de nouveaux « déplacés internes » dans 55 pays que de réfugiés en séjour dans le monde entier.

      A voir le nombre de personnes exilées à l’intérieur de leur propre pays, celui des réfugiés paraît faire moins problème. A fin 2018, le nombre de réfugiés recensés dans le monde entier atteignait 28,5 millions, soit autant que celui des « déplacés internes » supplémentaires enregistrés au cours de la seule année dernière.

      Selon le Rapport global 2019 de l’Observatoire des situations de déplacement interne (IDMC) du Conseil norvégien des réfugiés, dont le siège se trouve à Genève, on comptait, à fin 2018, 41,3 millions de personnes vivant en situation de déplacés internes dans 55 pays, suite à des catastrophes naturelles ou à des conflits. Il s’agit d’un effectif record de personnes déplacées dans leur propre pays du fait de conflits, de violence généralisée ou de catastrophes naturelles.
      Catastrophes naturelles

      Parmi les désastres qui ont provoqué l’an dernier quelque 17,2 millions de nouveaux déplacements, certains sont très probablement dus au changement climatique. Ainsi, les incendies qui ont détruit une grande partie de la forêt californienne et qui ont contraint 1,2 million d’Américains – sans compter les morts – à abandonner leur domicile et à s’installer ailleurs peuvent probablement être attribués au réchauffement climatique et à la sécheresse.

      Au contraire, le Bangladesh n’a enregistré l’an dernier « que » 78’000 déplacements de personnes en raison des inondations. C’est presque l’équivalent de la population de la ville de Lucerne qu’il faut recaser sur des terrains sûrs dans un pays comptant 1’100 habitants au kilomètre carré. Le Bangladesh prévoit de construire trois villes de taille moyenne pour accueillir les déplacés récents et ceux qui ne vont pas manquer d’affluer dans les années à venir. Mais que pourra-t-on faire lorsque le niveau de la mer montera ?

      Au Nigeria, cet immense pays de plus de 100 millions d’habitants, 80% des terres ont été inondées par des pluies torrentielles, causant 541’000 déplacements internes.

      Problème : les personnes qui, en raison d’inondations ou de conflits locaux, doivent chercher refuge ailleurs dans leur propre pays se rendent systématiquement dans les villes, souvent déjà surpeuplées. Comment imaginer que Dhaka, la capitale du Bangladesh récemment devenue une mégapole approchant les 17 millions d’habitants, puisse encore grandir ?
      Violences et conflits

      En 2018 toujours, 10,8 millions de personnes ont connu le sort des déplacés internes en raison des violences ou des conflits qui ont sévi surtout dans les pays suivants : Ethiopie, République démocratique du Congo (RDC), Syrie, Nigeria, Somalie, Afghanistan, République centrafricaine, Cameroun et Soudan du Sud. Outre ces mouvements internes, des personnes sont allées chercher secours et refuge notamment en Turquie (3,5 millions), en Ouganda (1,4 million) ou au Pakistan (1,4 million).

      Les trois pays qui comptent le plus de déplacés internes dus à la violence sont la Syrie, (6,1 millions de personnes), la Colombie (5,8 millions) et la RDC (3,1 millions). S’agissant de la Syrie, nous savons que la guerre civile n’est pas terminée et qu’il faudra faire des efforts gigantesques pour reconstruire les villes bombardées.

      Mais que savons-nous de la Colombie, depuis l’accord de paix entre le gouvernement de Santos et les Farc ? En 2018, il y a eu 145’000 nouveaux déplacés internes et de nombreux leaders sociaux assassinés : 105 en 2017, 172 en 2018 et 7, soit une personne par jour, dans la première semaine de janvier 2019.

      L’Assemblée nationale colombienne ne veut pas mettre en œuvre les accords de paix, encore moins rendre des terres aux paysans et accomplir la réforme agraire inscrite à l’article premier de l’accord de paix. Les Farc ont fait ce qu’elles avaient promis, mais pas le gouvernement. Ivan Duque, qui a remplacé Manuel Santos, s’est révélé incapable de reprendre le contrôle des terrains abandonnés par les Farc – et repris par d’autres bandes armées, paramilitaires ou multinationales, ou par des trafiquants de drogue. Triste évolution marquée par une insécurité grandissante.

      Et que dire de la RDC ? C’est au Kivu, Nord et Sud, véritable grotte d’Ali Baba de la planète, que les populations sont victimes de bandes armées s’appuyant sur diverses tribus pour conserver ou prendre le contrôle des mines riches en coltan, diamant, or, cuivre, cobalt, étain, manganèse, etc. Grands responsables de ces graves troubles : les téléphones portables et autres appareils connectés à l’échelle mondiale ainsi que les multinationales minières.

      Il y a probablement bien d’autres pays de la planète où les violences sont commises par des multinationales qui obligent les habitants locaux à fuir devant la destruction de leurs villages et de leurs terres. Où vont-ils se réfugier ? Dans les villes bien sûr, où ils espèrent trouver un toit. Mais un toit ne suffit pas, ni l’éventuelle aide humanitaire apportée par la Croix-Rouge et les Etats occidentaux. Quand débarquent des dizaines de milliers de déplacés, les municipalités doivent aussi construire des écoles, des hôpitaux, assurer la distribution d’eau potable et l’évacuation des eaux usées.

      Dans les pays africains où il arrive que moins de la moitié des habitants aient accès à l’eau potable, un déplacement important risque fort de remettre en cause tout le programme gouvernemental. Le rapport de l’Observatoire des situations de déplacement interne va même jusqu’à prévoir que certains des Objectifs de développement durable fixés par les Nations unies en 2015 ne pourront jamais être atteints.


      https://www.domainepublic.ch/articles/35077

    • Displaced people: Why are more fleeing home than ever before?

      More than 35,000 people were forced to flee their homes every day in 2018 - nearly one every two seconds - taking the world’s displaced population to a record 71 million.

      A total of 26 million people have fled across borders, 41 million are displaced within their home countries and 3.5 million have sought asylum - the highest numbers ever, according to UN refugee agency (UNHCR) figures.

      Why are so many people being driven away from their families, friends and neighbourhoods?
      Devastating wars have contributed to the rise

      Conflict and violence, persecution and human rights violations are driving more and more men, women and children from their homes.

      In fact, the number of displaced people has doubled in the last 10 years, the UNHCR’s figures show, with the devastating wars in Iraq and Syria causing many families to leave their communities.

      Conflict in the Democratic Republic of Congo (DRC), Yemen and South Sudan, as well as the flow of Rohingya refugees from Myanmar to Bangladesh, have also had a significant impact.

      Most do not become refugees

      While much of the focus has been on refugees - that’s people forced to flee across borders because of conflict or persecution - the majority of those uprooted across the world actually end up staying in their own countries.

      These people, who have left their homes but not their homeland, are referred to as “internally displaced people”, or IDPs, rather than refugees.

      IDPs often decide not to travel very far, either because they want to stay close to their homes and family, or because they don’t have the funds to cross borders.

      But many internally displaced people end up stuck in areas that are difficult for aid agencies to reach - such as conflict zones - and continue to rely on their own governments to keep them safe. Those governments are sometimes the reason people have fled, or - because of war - have become incapable of providing their own citizens with a safe place to stay.

      For this reason, the UN describes IDPs as “among the most vulnerable in the world”.

      Colombia, Syria and the DRC have the highest numbers of IDPs.

      However, increasing numbers are also leaving home because of natural disasters, mainly “extreme weather events”, according to the Internal Displacement Monitoring Centre (IDMC), which monitors the global IDP population only.

      The next biggest group of displaced people are refugees. There were 25.9 million by the end of 2018, of whom about half were children.

      One in four refugees came from Syria.

      The smallest group of displaced people is asylum seekers - those who have applied for sanctuary in another country but whose claim has not been granted. There were 3.5 million in 2018 - fewer than one in 10 of those forced to flee.
      Places hit by conflict and violence are most affected

      At the end of 2018, Syrians were the largest forcibly displaced population. Adding up IDPs, refugees and asylum seekers, there were 13 million Syrians driven from their homes.

      Colombians were the second largest group, with 8m forcibly displaced according to UNHCR figures, while 5.4 million Congolese were also uprooted.

      If we just look at figures for last year, a massive 13.6 million people were forced to abandon their homes - again mostly because of conflict. That’s more than the population of Mumbai - the most populous city in India.

      Of those on the move in 2018 alone, 10.8 million ended up internally displaced within their home countries - that’s four out of every five people.

      A further 2.8 million people sought safety abroad as newly-registered refugees or asylum seekers.

      Just 2.9 million people who had previously fled their homes returned to their areas or countries of origin in 2018 - fewer than those who became displaced in the same period.

      The world’s largest new population of internally displaced people are Ethiopians. Almost three million abandoned their homes last year - many escaping violence between ethnic groups.

      The conflict in the DRC also forced 1.8 million to flee but remain in their home country in 2018.

      In war-torn Syria, more than 1.6 million became IDPs.

      Venezuelans topped the list of those seeking asylum abroad in 2018, with 341,800 new claims. That’s more than one in five claims submitted last year.

      Hyperinflation, food shortages, political turmoil, violence and persecution, have forced hundreds of thousands of Venezuelans to leave their homeland.

      Most left for Peru, while others moved to Brazil, the US or Spain. More than 7,000 applied for asylum in neighbouring Trinidad and Tobago - just seven miles off Venezuela’s coast - last year alone.

      Annielis Ramirez, 30, is among the thousands of Venezuelans seeking a better life on the islands.

      “All my family is in Venezuela, I had to come here to work and help them,” she says. "I couldn’t even buy a pair of shoes for my daughter. The reality is that the minimum salary is not enough over there.

      “I’m here in Trinidad now. I don’t have a job, I just try to sell empanadas [filled pastries]. The most important thing is to put my daughter through school.”
      Those driven from their homelands mostly remain close by

      Almost 70% of the world’s refugees come from just five countries: Syria, Afghanistan, South Sudan, Myanmar and Somalia, according to the UNHCR. And their neighbouring nations host the most.

      Most Syrians have escaped to Turkey and more than half of Afghan refugees are in Pakistan.

      Many South Sudanese go to nearby Sudan or Uganda. Those from Myanmar - the majority Rohingya refugees displaced at the end of 2017 - mainly fled to Bangladesh.

      Germany, which doesn’t border any of those countries with the largest outflows, is home to more than half a million Syrian and 190,000 Afghan refugees - the result of its “welcome culture” towards refugees established in 2015. It has since toughened up refugee requirements.

      When assessing the burden placed on the host countries, Lebanon holds the largest number of refugees relative to its population. One in every six people living in the country is a refugee, the vast majority from across the border in Syria.

      The exodus from Syria has also seen refugee numbers in neighbouring Jordan swell, putting pressure on resources. About 85% of the Syrians currently settled in Jordan live below the poverty line, according to the UN.

      Overall, one third of the global refugee population (6.7 million people) live in the least developed countries of the world.
      Many go to live in massive temporary camps

      Large numbers of those driven from their home countries end up in cramped, temporary tent cities that spring up in places of need.

      The biggest in the world is in Cox’s Bazar, Bangladesh, where half a million Rohingya now live, having fled violence in neighbouring Myanmar.

      The second largest is Bidi Bidi in northern Uganda, home to a quarter of a million people. The camp has seen many arrivals of South Sudanese fleeing civil war just a few hours north.

      Bidi Bidi, once a small village, has grown in size since 2016 and now covers 250 sq km (97 sq miles) - a third of the size of New York City.

      But what makes Bidi Bidi different from most other refugee camps, is that its residents are free to move around and work and have access to education and healthcare.

      The Ugandan government, recognised for its generous approach to refugees, also provides Bidi Bidi’s residents with plots of land, so they can farm and construct shelters, enabling them to become economically self-sufficient.

      The camp authorities are also aiming to build schools, health centres and other infrastructure out of more resilient materials, with the ultimate aim of creating a working city.

      Among those living in Bidi Bidi are Herbat Wani, a refugee from South Sudan, and Lucy, a Ugandan, who were married last year.

      Herbat is grateful for the welcome he has received in Uganda since fleeing violence in his home country.

      “The moment you reach the boundary, you’re still scared but there are these people who welcome you - and it was really amazing,” he says. “Truly I can say Uganda at this point is home to us.”

      Lucy says she doesn’t see Herbat as a refugee at all. “He’s a human being, like me,” she says.

      However, despite the authorities’ best efforts, a number of challenges remain at Bidi Bidi.

      The latest report from the UNHCR notes there are inadequate food and water supplies, health facilities still operating under tarpaulins and not enough accommodation or schools for the large families arriving.
      Displacement could get worse

      Alongside conflict and violence, persecution and human rights violations, natural disasters are increasingly responsible for forcing people from their homes.

      Looking at data for IDPs only, collected separately by the Internal Displacement Monitoring Centre (IDMC), natural disasters caused most new internal displacement cases last year, outpacing conflict as the main reason for people fleeing.

      On top of the 10.8 million internally displaced by conflict last year, there were 17.2 million people who were forced to abandon their homes because of disasters, mainly “extreme weather events” such as storms and floods, the IDMC says.

      The IDMC expects the number of people uprooted because of natural disasters to rise to 22 million this year, based on data for the first half of 2019.

      Mass displacement by extreme weather events is “becoming the norm”, its report says, and IDMC’s director Alexandra Bilak has urged global leaders to invest more in ways of mitigating the effects of climate change.

      Tropical cyclones and monsoon floods forced many in India and Bangladesh from their homes earlier this year, while Cyclone Idai wreaked havoc in southern Africa, killing more than 1,000 people and uprooting millions in Mozambique, Zimbabwe and Malawi.

      Idai was “one of the deadliest weather-related disasters to hit the southern hemisphere”, the World Meteorological Organization (WMO) said.

      Although linking any single event to global warming is complicated, climate change is expected to increase the frequency of such extreme weather events.

      The WMO warns that the physical and financial impacts of global warming are already on the rise.

      Phan Thi Hang, a farmer in Vietnam’s Ben Tre province, has told the BBC his country’s changing climate has already had a “huge impact” on rice yields.

      “There has been less rain than in previous years,” he says. "As a result, farming is much more difficult.

      “We can now only harvest two crops instead of three each year, and the success of these is not a sure thing.”

      He says he and his fellow farmers now have to work as labourers or diversify into breeding cattle to make extra cash, while others have left the countryside for the city.

      Like Phan’s fellow farmers, many IDPs head to cities in search of safety from weather-related events as well as better lives.

      But many of the world’s urban areas may not offer people the sanctuary they are seeking.

      Displaced people in cities often end up seeking shelter in unfinished or abandoned buildings and are short of food, water and basic services, making them vulnerable to illness and disease, the IDMC says. They are also difficult to identify and track, mingling with resident populations.

      On top of this, some of the world’s biggest cities are also at risk from rising global temperatures.

      Almost all (95%) cities facing extreme climate risks are in Africa or Asia, a report by risk analysts Verisk Maplecroft has found.

      And it’s the faster-growing cities that are most at risk, including megacities like Lagos in Nigeria and Kinshasa in the Democratic Republic of Congo.

      Some 84 of the world’s 100 fastest-growing cities face “extreme” risks from rising temperatures and extreme weather brought on by climate change.

      This means that those fleeing to urban areas to escape the impact of a warming world may well end up having their lives disrupted again by the effects of rising temperatures.

      https://www.bbc.com/news/world-49638793
      #conflits #violence #Bidi-Bidi #camps_de_réfugiés #bidi_bidi #vulnérabilité #changement_climatique #climat #villes #infographie #visualisation

  • What it means to be a ‘refugee’ in South Sudan and Uganda

    After decades of armed conflict in South Sudan and Uganda, labels of ‘refugee’ and ‘internally displaced person’ fail to reflect the complex realities of the people they refer to. Leben Moro examines the history of movement across the region’s borders, and argues refugees are not the passive recipients of aid as often presented by humanitarian initiatives.

    Since independence from British colonial rule, large numbers of South Sudanese and Ugandans have repeatedly crossed the shared border to escape civil wars. These forced movements of large populations have created shifting labels of ‘refugees’ and ‘internally displaced persons’ (IDPs), with tremendous social, economic and political repercussions for the persons to which these labels are applied.

    In August 1955, months before Sudan’s independence, the largely Christian Southern Sudanese took up arms against Muslim rulers in the North to achieve a vision of greater regional autonomy, which sparked a mass flight of people from their homes. By the end of the First Sudanese Civil War in 1972, the Sudanese government estimated that 500,000 people had hidden in the bush, and another 180,000 had crossed into neighbouring countries, with 74,000 settling in four official camps (Onigo, Agago, Acholpii and Nakapiripirit) in northern Uganda. Many of the displaced persons, including my own family members, self-settled in other parts of Uganda, mainly near cotton ginning mills and other businesses operated by Ugandans of Indian origin, who employed them as casual labourers.

    My own family members settled near Gulu, the largest town in northern Uganda, among the Acholi ethnic group. Some South Sudanese journeyed southwards to Bwelye in the centre of Uganda, where there was plentiful fertile land and jobs in Indian enterprises. Others travelled further south into the heartland of the Baganda, the largest tribe in the country, to work in sugar plantations and different enterprises, including fields where locals grew coffee, bananas and other crops.

    Over time, many newcomers acquired land with their earnings and became poll taxpayers. Their receipt documentation allowed them to move across land in relative safety. In general, however, life was hard as they lacked citizenship and were vulnerable to exploitation and harassment.

    The United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees (UNHCR) coordinated a programme of official repatriation, supported by public authorities in Sudan and Uganda, including a mandate that supported Sudan’s IDPs. Many people, however, chose not to leave.

    In 1979, Uganda became embroiled in a bitter civil war following the overthrow of President Idi Amin Dada, forcing Southern Sudanese, including my own family members, and many Ugandans from the north of the country, to flee into the relatively peaceful Southern Sudan. The UNHCR and other humanitarian organisations as well as public authorities in Sudan helped settle many refugees in camps, but some Ugandans settled among local people, initially without external support.

    The relative peace in Southern Sudan was disrupted in 1983 when the Sudan People’s Liberation Movement/Army (SPLM/A) was founded to lead another armed struggle against Sudan’s newly declared Islamic state under President Gaafar Nimeiry – which came to be known as the Second Sudanese Civil War. The violence forced Ugandan peoples living in Southern Sudan back into Uganda and many Southern Sudanese also made the crossing. Some of the refugees returned to locations they had lived in during the first civil war or joined relatives or friends who had remained in Uganda. People used their established networks.

    The new wave of refugees received generous assistance from the UNHCR and the Ugandan government, whose policy was the settlement of refugees in camps and dedicated areas. Effectively, the policy redefined a refugee as ‘someone receiving assistance and living in a camp’. Many displaced Southern Sudanese avoided encampment, with its associated restrictions of movement, by self-settling among locals or dividing their family members or time between camps and outside locations.

    As in the first civil war, many displaced persons in Southern Sudan did not cross international borders, but remained behind in dire circumstances. Their plight forced the United Nations to launch another initiative, Operation Lifeline Sudan, in the 1980s to assist those trapped in the war zone. This suffering formally ceased in 2005 with the conclusion of the much-lauded Comprehensive Peace Agreement between the Sudanese government and the SPLM/A, enabling the return of the IDPs to their original homes and refugees back to the country.

    In 2011, Southern Sudan seceded from Sudan. About two years later, the world’s newest country relapsed into a vicious civil war. Sparked by divisions among the country’s key leaders, ethnic identities were subsequently exploited to mobilise fighters with devastating consequences for national unity and the wellbeing of civilians.

    During the conflict, many Nuer people, an ethnic group primarily inhabiting South Sudan’s Nile Valley, fled into areas created on UN Mission in South Sudan (UNMISS) bases, called Protection of Civilians Sites (PoCs), to escape killing by members of the Dinka, the largest ethnic group, who had effectively taken over the country with the support of Ugandan soldiers. Nuer fighters retaliated against Dinka civilians, forcing many to flee to the Uganda border and other locations.

    Many South Sudanese headed north into the new Republic of Sudan, where public authorities labelled them ’arrivals’, a new term with no precedent in refugee policy or literature, and confined them to ‘waiting stations’. Uganda also received a large number of displaced persons, among them refugees placed in settlements with international assistance. Many displaced persons settled among locals without external assistance, thus avoiding the label of ‘refugee’.

    What it means to be ‘refugees’ in Uganda

    The 1951 Refugee Convention states a person becomes a refugee after crossing an internationally recognised border in search of protection, recognition and status by public authorities in the asylum country or the UNHCR. When the circumstances that forced the person to seek refuge cease to exist, the refugee re-avails themselves of the country’s protection they had fled. Thus defined concrete international borders are characterised as integral to becoming a refugee or ending refuge.

    For South Sudanese displaced persons, the border between their country and Uganda is not a clearly defined line separating two jurisdictions. Many parts of the border are contested by ordinary people and public authorities on both sides. Consequently, people inhabiting locations along these contested areas are not always on peaceful terms despite often belonging to the same ethnic groups, such as the Acholi of South Sudan and Uganda.

    Different ethnic groups that have seen clashes over contested territories have also been forced into settling in areas of close proximity following unrest in their respective homelands. My own research reveals the Kuku of Kajokeji in South Sudan were so suspicious of the Madi in the Ugandan Moyo district that, when they settled in the latter’s region, they avoided treatment in the Moyo hospital for fear of maltreatment by Madi medical personnel. The history of conflict over certain borders has a direct bearing on the welfare of refugees in the present.

    Armed groups and criminals also operate along the border, posing serious security problems, with some people losing their lives at the hands of unknown gunmen. Despite this danger, refugees and other South Sudanese cross in and out of South Sudan for matters of family and livelihoods, such as to harvest crops in their old fields due to food shortages in their new home. Others return their deceased kin to bury them decently on their old compounds and, further, trips are made to the national capital, Juba, to visit relatives or deal with administrative issues.

    These movements defy the legal meaning of ‘refugee’, who is supposed to return home when the threat of persecution that caused the flight is over. They demonstrate that refugees are not the passive and docile recipients of aid, as often presented, but active individuals who exercise agency. Studies remind us that were refugees only to eat the ‘food which is distributed to them, they would die’.

    What it means to stay behind as an IDP

    Because IDPs are citizens living in their native county they are entitled to the same rights and legal protections as fellow citizens as stipulated by the constitution. In reality, IDPs do not always enjoy citizenship rights because those in power consider them enemies or supporters of enemies.

    During the second civil war, the Sudanese government branded IDPs as rebel supporters and subjected them to all kinds of punitive measures, including starvation and denial of basic services. Many IDPs consequently starved to death or died due to deadly diseases, such as kala azar, as the already rudimentary healthcare system in pre-war Southern Sudan was destroyed by repeated military bombardments as well as frequent obstructions of international humanitarian access.

    When South Sudan gained independence and descended into civil war, IDPs did not fare any better. Following shocking atrocities and the continued risk of further violence, many Nuer civilians remain in PoCs on UNMISS bases under the protection of peacekeepers in refugee-like situations. Deprived of state protection, their situation has become worse than most refugees in South Sudan, deprioritised over the dominant Dinka.

    The labels of ‘refugee’ and ‘internally displaced person’ do not reflect the experiences of most South Sudanese refugees in Uganda, and IDPs within South Sudan. These terms present refugees and IDPs as powerless recipients of aid when, in reality, refugees and IDPs are active agents in efforts to improve their situation. In some cases, they creatively manipulate borders and the systems in place to satisfy their basic needs.

    It has been expressed that South Sudanese refugees have shown an extraordinary creativity and resourcefulness that can form a blueprint for future refugee assistance programmes. When ‘official legal categories rarely match realities on the ground’, aid workers should now appreciate and encourage the active involvement of refugees and IDPs to address the challenges that confront them.

    https://blogs.lse.ac.uk/africaatlse/2019/05/28/what-it-means-to-be-a-refugee-in-south-sudan-and-uganda
    #réfugiés #IDPs #déplacés_internes #Soudan_du_Sud #Ouganda #histoire #histoire

  • Counter-mapping: cartography that lets the powerless speak | Science | The Guardian
    https://www.theguardian.com/science/blog/2018/mar/06/counter-mapping-cartography-that-lets-the-powerless-speak

    Sara is a 32-year-old mother of four from Honduras. After leaving her children in the care of relatives, she travelled across three state borders on her way to the US, where she hoped to find work and send money home to her family. She was kidnapped in Mexico and held captive for three months, and was finally released when her family paid a ransom of $190.

    Her story is not uncommon. The UN estimates that there are 258 million migrants in the world. In Mexico alone, 1,600 migrants are thought to be kidnapped every month. What is unusual is that Sara’s story has been documented in a recent academic paper that includes a map of her journey that she herself drew. Her map appears alongside four others – also drawn by migrants. These maps include legends and scales not found on orthodox maps – unnamed river crossings, locations of kidnapping and places of refuge such as a “casa de emigrante” where officials cannot enter. Since 2011, such shelters have been identified by Mexican law as “spaces of exception”.

    #cartographie_radicale #contre_cartographie #cartographie_participative #cartoexperiment

  • Global Report on Internal Displacement #2019

    KEY FINDINGS

    Internal displacement is a global challenge, but it is also heavily concentrated in a few countries and triggered by few events. 28 million new internal displacements associated with conflict and disasters across 148 countries and territories were recorded in 2018, with nine countries each accounting for more than a million.

    41.3 million people were estimated to be living in internal displacement as a result of conflict and violence in 55 countries as of the end of the year, the highest figure ever recorded. Three-quarters, or 30.9 million people, were located in only ten countries.

    Protracted crises, communal violence and unresolved governance challenges were the main factors behind 10.8 million new displacements associated with conflict and violence. Ethiopia, the Democratic Republic of the Congo (DRC) and Syria accounted for more than half of the global figure.

    Newly emerging crises forced millions to flee, from Cameroon’s anglophone conflict to waves of violence in Nigeria’s Middle Belt region and unprecedented conflict in Ethiopia. Displacement also continued despite peace efforts in the Central African Republic, South Sudan and Colombia.

    Many IDPs remain unaccounted for. Figures for DRC, Myanmar, Pakistan, Sudan and Yemen are considered underestimates, and data is scarce for Guatemala, El Salvador, Honduras, Russia, Turkey and Venezuela. This prevents an accurate assessment of the true scale of internal displacement in these countries. ||Estimating returns continues to be a major challenge.

    Large numbers of people reportedly returned to their areas of origin in Ethiopia, Iraq and Nigeria, to conditions which were not conducive to long-lasting reintegration. ||Urban conflict triggered large waves of displacement and has created obstacles to durable solutions. Airstrikes and shelling forced many thousands to flee in Hodeida in Yemen, Tripoli in Libya and Dara’a in Syria. In Mosul in Iraq and Marawi in the Philippines, widespread destruction and unexploded ordnance continued to prevent people from returning home.

    Heightened vulnerability and exposure to sudden-onset hazards, particularly storms, resulted in 17.2 million disaster displacements in 144 countries and territories. The number of people displaced by slow-onset disasters worldwide remains unknown as only drought-related displacement is captured in some countries, and only partially.

    The devastating power of extreme events highlighted again the impacts of climate change across the globe. Wildfires were a particularly visible expression of this in 2018, from the US and Australia to Greece and elsewhere in southern Europe, displacing hundreds of thousands of people, causing severe damage and preventing swift returns.

    Global risk of being displaced by floods is staggeringly high and concentrated in towns and cities: more than 17 million people are at risk of being displaced by floods each year. Of these, more than 80 per cent live in urban and peri-urban areas.

    An overlap of conflict and disasters repeatedly displaced people in a number of countries. Drought and conflict triggered similar numbers of displacements in Afghanistan, and extended rainy seasons displaced millions of people in areas of Nigeria and Somalia already affected by conflict. Most of the people displaced by disasters in Iraq and Syria were IDPs living in camps that were flooded.

    Promising policy developments in several regions show increased attention to displacement risk. Niger became the first country to domesticate the Kampala Convention by adopting a law on internal displacement, and Kosovo recognised the importance of supporting returning refugees and IDPs, updating its policy to that end. Vanuatu produced a policy on disaster and climate-related displacement, and Fiji showed foresight in adopting new guidelines on resettlement in the context of climate change impacts.

    https://reliefweb.int/report/world/global-report-internal-displacement-2019-grid-2019-0
    #IDPs #déplacés_internes #migrations #asile #statistiques #chiffres

    ping @reka @karine4