The islands of the Pacific Ocean, including the low-lying atolls of the Marshall Islands, Tuvalu and Kiribati among others, have begun to witness first-hand the signs of climate change-induced sea level rise. All three island groups have experienced severe flooding by storms and high tides, and saltwater intrusion into wells and soils is threatening livelihoods and health. Encroaching seas are eroding the atolls at faster rates than predicted. In the state of Kiribati, two islands – Tebua Tarawa and Abanuea - have already disappeared beneath rising seas. The South Pacific Regional Environment Programme confirms that others are at risk. In the Indian Ocean, the beaches of the Maldives are also being swept away.
Sea level rise occurred at an average rate of 1.8mm per year during the past century. Predictions for the current century anticipate a total rise between 90 and 880mm, the upper limits of which would overwhelm a large proportion of the coral atolls. What will happen if entire populations are forced to abandon their homelands? Where would they go, and who would they become? Would they still be ‘nations’, albeit disenfranchised? Would they still have a unified voice in international politics, and rights to their natural resources?
We’re facing a set of issues unique in the history of the system of nation-states. We’re confronting existential issues associated with climate impacts that are not adequately addressed in the international legal framework.” Dean Bialek, Adviser to the Republic of the Marshall Islands (in interview with The Associated Press)
While nations have declined through secession, conquest, or by ceding their territory to other countries, never in history has a country physically disappeared, and the law is not prepared to deal with such a scenario. The 1951 United Nations’ Convention Relating to the Status of Refugees, which asserts that nations must shelter those fleeing from persecution, does not cover the situation of those whose homeland is lost to the sea. Likewise, the continued recognition of a displaced state as a legal entity seems open to the interpretation and tolerance of the international community; most significantly, whether the United Nations General Assembly would opt to relinquish their seat at the table.
Economic rights are likewise in question. Take, for example, the Marshall Islands’ 29 atolls, which give them an economic zone of 800,000 square miles of ocean, from which natural resources may be gathered exclusively by the Marshallese community or others to whom licenses are sold. If the islands are submerged, what becomes of their rights to resources and fishing – the foundations of their national economy?
Small island states contribute only 0.6 per cent of all global warming pollution, but they are already suffering disproportionately the impacts of a changing climate. In Cancun, representatives from the Marshall Islands sought international aid for climate change adaptation, to re-plant protective shoreline vegetation; construct a 3-mile sea wall to protect the capital city, Majuro; and to guard the causeway linking Jaluit island to its airport from continued inundation by the sea. Without such measures, the islands may become uninhabitable long before they are submerged. If financial and diplomatic tools are unsuccessful, there is speculation that some countries will move for legal measures, including appeals to the International Court of Justice for compensation from the world’s leading polluters. But how to put a price on a lost homeland, devastated livelihoods, a diluted cultural identity, and an uncertain future?
These are questions somewhat removed from the international negotiations on mitigation and emissions reductions, but equally as fundamental. Even if the world were to curb its emissions of greenhouse gases overnight, the impacts of past excesses could not be entirely avoided and the fate of the small island nations would continue to hang in the balance. This realisation must be the most real and urgent call to action on climate change adaptation yet?









