On the banks of the Jamuna River in Bangladesh, life has always been subject to the whims of water. But in recent years, the fury of floods has shifted from a seasonal event to a constant. Every year, thousands of families pack their few belongings and embark on an uncertain journey to cities, joining a wave of displacement that can no longer be explained only by conflict or economic reasons: climate has become a silent driver of forced migration.
According to the World Bank, there could be over 200 million internal climate migrants by 2050.
This crisis does not recognize borders. In the Horn of Africa, the longest drought in decades has dried up pastures and wells, pushing entire communities of nomadic herders to cross into neighboring countries in search of water and food. In Central America, the dry corridor has turned subsistence farming into a gamble, and many people now feel they have no choice but to migrate north.
Displacement missing from official statistics
Climate refugees have no internationally recognized legal status. The 1951 Geneva Convention protects those fleeing political persecution, but it does not mention environmental disasters. This legal gap leaves millions in limbo: they are not refugees, yet they cannot return home. The lack of a specific legal framework hampers humanitarian aid and planning in host countries.
Forced migration and climate change
The term 'climate migration' describes the movement of people who leave their homes due to climate change effects, such as droughts, floods, or sea-level rise. While not a new concept, its scale and urgency have grown exponentially in recent years.
Cities as refuge (and challenge)
Most climate migrants do not cross an international border; they move within their own country, almost always toward cities. Dhaka, Nairobi, or Lima have seen informal settlements grow where lack of basic services adds to precariousness. Local governments are overwhelmed, and urban adaptation policies are only beginning to consider this new reality.
Meanwhile, some Pacific island nations, like Tuvalu or Kiribati, are already negotiating mobility agreements with countries such as Australia and New Zealand, not just for emergency evacuations, but to guarantee their citizens a livable future. These agreements, still incipient, could set precedents for other regions.
Artificial intelligence: a tool to anticipate
Faced with this magnitude, technology is becoming an ally. Artificial intelligence systems are already being used to model displacement scenarios: they analyze climate data, satellite imagery, and migration patterns to predict which regions could be most affected and how many people might need assistance. Humanitarian organizations like the Red Cross have started using these models to prepare response plans earlier.
However, the accuracy of these models depends on data quality, and in many vulnerable regions information is scarce or outdated. Moreover, algorithms can reproduce biases if not carefully designed. Technology is not a magic solution, but it can help governments and agencies act before a crisis becomes unmanageable.
What does this mean for the world?
Climate migration defies existing legal and political categories. It requires international cooperation beyond the Paris agreements: recognizing legal statuses, creating adaptation funds, and rethinking development in the most exposed regions. If no action is taken, the number of displaced people could exceed humanitarian response capacity and generate geopolitical tensions in already fragile areas.
The story is not written yet. Every decision made today on emission reductions, climate financing, and reception policies will determine whether the 21st century is remembered as the age of uprooting or the age of global solidarity. The troubled waters of climate change do not know borders, and neither should our response.