A man watches cruise ships dock in the port of the island of Antigua on Dec. 2, 2017, in St. John’s, Antigua and Barbuda. (Salwan Georges/The Washington Post)
For the Chagossians, the island of Diego Garcia became a paradise lost. In the late 1960s, Britain began forcibly removing the inhabitants of the Indian Ocean atoll — most of them the descendants of enslaved people and laborers — to make way for a U.S. military base. Suing for restitution to this day, the expelled Chagossians would suffer lives as second-class citizens far from their impossibly turquoise shores.
After the middling results of COP26 — the U.N. climate summit in Glasgow, Scotland — the world may be doing to the residents of small island states what British soldiers did to the Chagossians: sentencing them to forced exile. The half-promises and open timelines for turning the clock back on emissions and weaning the world’s energy grids off fossil fuels, island leaders say, is effectively dooming their societies to go the way of Atlantis.
“Phasing ‘down’ coal? Really?” Gaston Browne, prime minister of Antigua and Barbuda, an island country lying between the Caribbean Sea and the Atlantic Ocean,told me by phone this week. “This should have been about phasing out. The very language they are using shows us that they are trying to game the system. For us in the Caribbean, in the Pacific Ocean, this is imperiling our very existence.”
Facing the prospect of unlivable futures, Browne and other island leaders are moving to do what the Chagossians did: Sue.
At the Paris climate summit in 2015, large emitters succeeded in shifting the legal conversation away from “compensation” for climate-related loss and damage in heavily impacted states, and toward the notion of voluntary aid. But they have dragged their heels on providing even that — with nations only vaguely agreeing last week to start a “dialogue” on the question.
Now, a group of frustrated island states have come to the conclusion that the time has come to play less nice. In Scotland, Antigua and Barbuda signed a new agreement with Tuvalu, recently joined by Palau, aimed at finding legal levers to compel large emitters to pay a price for the destruction in island states.
Their legal avenues are challenging, but not closed. They could seek an opinion at the International Court of Justice (ICJ) on whether nations can be held legally responsible for the impact of their emissions on other countries. But referral to the court requires the support of a United Nations body such as theGeneral Assembly — a hurdle island states tried and failed to scale in 2012, in part due to fears that a court decision could muddy the waters at future climate talks. Vanuatu, another vulnerable island nation, is making a new bid for an ICJ opinion now. Another option could be sidestepping the assembly and seeking an opinion from the International Tribunal for the Law of the Sea in Hamburg, established by a U.N. convention in 1982.
Though not legally binding, an advisory opinion from either tribunal could be used as leverage both in climate negotiations and further legal challenges in domestic or international courts.
Payam Akhavan, legal counsel for the newly formed Commission of Small Island States on Climate Change and International Law, summed up the objective this way: “You pollute, you pay.”
“There may have been a time in the 1980s when we didn’t know what the consequences were of global warming,” he said. “But now, we do. And it’s inflicting irreparable harm on island states.”
Almost without exception, the United Nations Office for Disaster Risk Reduction has said, small island states are at great risk from projected impacts of climate change. The problems they face vary. But the biggest questions in any legal fight are likely to be these: How do you put a price tag on a lost society? Does it just includethe cost of relocating inhabitants? Or should the damages be far more?
Already, waters that once were “gin-clear are now cloudy with sand,” my colleagues noted. Taro and cassava — long locally grown — are now imported. Rising seas have contaminated fresh groundwater supplies, making Tuvalu directly reliant on rainwater. Talk is growing of the relocation of its residents to New Zealand, Australia or Fiji.
“The reality is that in the future, the Tuvaluan community is likely to be fragmented among many different countries,” Jordan Emont and Gowri Anandarajah wrote in the American Medical Association Journal of Ethics.
Island states additionally face outsize impacts from rising salination, droughts, heavy rains and coral bleaching. In the Caribbean, more extreme weather during hurricane season is a particular threat.
Few nations understand that risk more than Browne’s. In 2017, I ventured to Barbuda, the smaller of Antigua and Barbuda’s main islands, to document Hurricane Irma’s devastating impact there. Virtually no structure went undamaged in that singular, society-crushing disaster. Its 1,800 people evacuated from the island, Barbuda had gone feral within a week. Abandoned dogs formed packs and were taking down livestock. At the damaged hospital, the medical dorms were a scrap heap. An ambulance was wedged into a tree.
The devastation triggered bitter disputes between Barbudans and the central government in Antigua over how to rebuild. Of the international pledges for help that Browne said initially numbered in the “billions of dollars,” only about $22 million actually materialized. More than four years later, Browne said, only 70 percent of the island is rebuilt.
Asked why he was so disappointed in the summit in Scotland, he replied: “Because for us, climate change is not a theoretical construct. We are seeing more frequent and more ferocious hurricanes, we are having heat waves, brush fires. We’ve lost some of our most beautiful beaches. We’re losing our coral reefs from warming temperatures. Last year, we had one of the worst floods in our history. For us, this is a life and death.”
Unlike the Chagossians, most Barbudans returned home.
• North Korean leader Kim Jong Un has made his first public appearance in more than a month. He visited a new state-developed alpine city billed a “model” socialist “utopia,” as he looks to cement his legacy during a period of widespread food shortages. The visit to the northern city of Samjiyon, reported in state media Tuesday, comes as Kim approaches his 10th anniversary as North Korea’s leader.
• U.S. pharmaceutical giant Pfizer has agreed to a license-sharing deal that would allow its experimental covid-19 drug to be manufactured more widely around the globe. The company says the agreement couldgive more than half of the world’s population access to the treatment, even as Pfizer rebuffs calls to grant poorer countries access to its coronavirus vaccine formula. The company requested emergency authorization from the U.S. Food and Drug Administration for the five-day antiviral pill regimen Tuesday, and the Biden administration plans to purchase 10 million courses.
• Polish authorities used water cannons Tuesday to push back migrants trying to cross the country’s border with Belarus. Poland said the escalation was overseen by Belarusian forces as part of a deepening battle with the European Union. Migrants threw stones and Poland’s Ministry of National Defense said they had also been given stun grenades to throw at border guards by Belarusian forces.
The Twitter and Koo app logos are seen on a smartphone. (Dado Ruvic/Reuters)
BANGALORE, India — Earlier this year, Twitter and the Indian government were locked in a bitter showdown.
The government, incensed by Twitter’s refusal to take down posts by farmers agitating against agricultural reforms, accused the company of supporting violent protesters — and threatened to jail Twitter employees. The company’s executives hit back, arguing they were defending the right to free speech, a stance they have largely adhered to for a decade.
The winner of the dispute? A little-known Indian social media app called Koo.
In the months since Twitter’s feud with the government, a parade of Indian cabinet ministers, government agencies and right-wing celebrities have opened accounts on Koo to support a homegrown competitor, bringing millions of Indian followers with them.
The social network takes obvious cues from its established rival. But Aprameya Radhakrishna, Koo’s co-founder, has positioned his start-up as something decidedly more nationalist and populist — an anti-Twitter.
Koo’s appeal, Radhakrishna says, lies in its distinct feeds catering to vernacular languages such as Hindi, whereas Twitter is dominated by English, the language of the global elite. There’s also a profound difference in philosophy, Radhakrishna says: Koo would never defy a government order to take down content, much less censor or silence a national leader.
Koo’s rise reflects the global reckoning over social media. While it isn’t likely to overtake Twitter anytime soon, it’s been embraced by the Indian government led by Prime Minister Narendra Modi and his right-wing supporters at a moment when many countries, including the United States, are debating whether Silicon Valley’s influence should be checked. — Gerry Shih
Syria’s decade-long war is creating a lost generation. As families carved a life amid conflict and economic crisis, two in three children found themselves without access to education. Many are now the breadwinners, working long shifts in tough conditions to bring home much-needed pay. Aid groups say the coronavirus pandemic has made things worse. (Nicole Tung for The Washington Post)