Climate Change,Vulnerabilities,and Migration: Insights from Ecological Migrants in Bangladesh

Abstract

This paper explores the close interaction between environmental hazards and non-environmental factors inducing people to leave their areas of origin, augmented by the struggles they face and their urban survival strategies. Focusing on Aila-induced migrants in a slum in Khulna city, the study questions the conventional notion that environmental hazards singularly propel coastal inhabitants' migration. Instead, it asserts that migration results from a convergence of multi-causal factors, notably, the interplay between environmental hazards, socio-political and economic vulnerabilities, and proximity to ecologically fragile regions. Initially driven by subsistence needs, migration has transformed into something greater for many marginalized individuals. These migrants develop strong bonds with specific locations and location-specific networks, which facilitate their transition to urban life and allow them to mitigate the challenges associated with urban living. This study sheds light on the nuanced dynamics of climate-induced migration, emphasizing the necessity for comprehensive policy responses.

Bangladesh—A Climate Change Hotspot

At the forefront of global concern, Bangladesh appears as a striking example of a country extremely vulnerable to the far-reaching impacts of climate change and environmental threats. The country grapples with a multitude of climatic and environmental hazards, including flooding, droughts, cyclones, torrential downpours, tropical storms, saline intrusion, and riverbank erosion (IPCC, 2018). Bangladesh is highly susceptible to the impact of sea-level rise, with some estimating that the Bay of Bengal is responsible for 10% of all tropical cyclones in the world (Ali, 1999; Gray, 1985). One of the top ten potentially vulnerable areas in the world is the coastal zone of Bangladesh (Dasgupta et al., 2009), which makes up about 32% (47,201 km²) of the country and is home to 29% (approximately 35 million) of the population, with 52% of these households being landless and impoverished. The coastal belt of Bangladesh faces yet another significant environmental challenge in the form of salinization, which has adversely affected large areas in Bangladesh: approximately 83.3 million hectares of land in 1973, 102 million hectares in 2000, and 105.6 million hectares in 2009.

Bangladesh experienced 159 cyclones between 1877 and 2009—including 48 classified as severe cyclonic storms—43 cyclonic storms, and 68 tropical depressions (Mallick & Vogt, 2012; Singh et al., 2001). The country has witnessed a substantial number of disastrous cyclones, storm surges, and floods in recent years as a result of climate change. It has experienced devastating climatic events, including Cyclone Bhola in 1970, Sidr in 2007, Aila in 2009, Nargis in 2010, Mahasen in 2013, Bulbul in 2019, and Amphan in 2020. Cyclone Aila, classified as a Category-1 storm, is recognized as one of the most destructive cyclones, causing significant devastation and affecting an estimated 3.90 million people in 11 coastal districts. It swept away 243,191 homes, 237 kilometers of embankments, and 2233 kilometers of roads, leaving 375,000 people homeless. This tragic event led to the relocation of millions and resulted in the loss of over 200 lives (Roy & Sultana, 2010; UNDP, 2010). According to the FGD Reports organized by Humanitywatch, a total of 123,000 people migrated from the affected coastal areas of Khulna and Satkhira (Mehedi et al., 2010).

Climate Change, Vulnerabilities, and Migration

Millions of people are on the brink of experiencing the impacts of human-induced climate change, as highlighted by the expected increase in the duration, frequency, and intensity of extreme weather events (IPCC, 2018). Global climate shifts are poised to result in three major outcomes: the depletion of ecosystem services, land degradation, and an escalation in the frequency and severity of climate-related natural disasters. These changes in the environment may lead to various responses, including adjustments, adaptive strategies, and reconstruction efforts (Oliver-Smith, 2009). Alternatively, individuals may contemplate relocating to different geographic areas, either temporarily or permanently (Barnett & Webber, 2009; McLeman & Smit, 2006; Tacoli, 2009).

Scholars have long recognized the pivotal role of environmental factors in shaping migration patterns (Piguet, 2013). They have emphasized that global environmental changes increase disaster risk, jeopardize livelihoods, and are likely to alter human migration patterns over the next half-century (Foresight, 2011; Warner et al., 2010). The World Bank’s Groundswell Report (2018) suggests that the number of internal climate migrants worldwide could reach 216 million by 2050 (Rigaud et al., 2018). Given that environmental factors are the primary driver of migration, some scholars have developed the concept of “environmental refugees.” In doing so, they have defined (El-Hinnawi, 1985), quantified (Jacobsen, 1988; Myers, 1993), and classified (Bates, 2002) this particular type of migrant. The link between the environment and migration is considered self-evident: people may be forced to relocate due to environmental factors such as drought (El-Hinnawi, 1985, p. 26), land degradation (Kavanagh & Lonergan, 1992, p. 18), or rising sea levels (Myers, 1993, p. 194).

While acknowledging that changes in climate and the environment could profoundly reshape human habitats and, consequently, influence migration patterns, critics have raised doubts about the direct connection between climate change and extreme environmental events, as well as the envisioned apocalyptic scenario of climate-induced migration (Boas et al., 2022; Kniveton et al., 2008; Naude, 2010). There is no empirical evidence supporting a clear causal relationship between climate change and migration (Kniveton et al., 2008). McGregor (1994, p. 121) critically examined the concept of a straightforward “cause-and-effect” correlation between climate change and migration. Castles (2002) believes that these connections are grounded in “common sense.” Therefore, attempting to establish any linear and deterministic relationship between extreme environmental events and migration may lead to erroneous conclusions. Critics have also raised concerns about the accuracy of predictions related to future mobility patterns, the empirical evidence, the apocalyptic tone, and the focus on climatic change as the primary driver of large-scale human migration (Black, 2001; Castles, 2002; McGregor, 1993; Tacoli, 2009). Moreover, some writers argue that it is challenging to distinguish between the socio-economic and environmental factors influencing migration. Oliver-Smith (2009) asserts that climate displacement is a convoluted and multifaceted phenomenon shaped by social, economic, and political factors. He emphasizes the importance of considering cultural and historical contexts when analyzing how climate change affects communities. Oliver-Smith (2002, 2004) argues that natural catastrophes expose people to a dual spectrum of risks: physical vulnerabilities like inadequate infrastructure, as well as social vulnerabilities, such as poverty and power dynamics that disadvantage certain groups. This intricate interplay of vulnerabilities has the potential to disrupt social interactions and induce migration.

Migration/human mobility—whether it is short- or long-term, internal or external, voluntary or involuntary—is one of the main aspects of life in Bangladesh. Traditionally, migration in Bangladesh has predominantly been driven by socio-economic and geopolitical factors (Afsar, 2003; Gardner, 2009; Marshall & Rahman, 2013; Penning-Rowsell et al., 2013). Nevertheless, recent research and policy analysis have shed light on a robust link between climate change and migration in Bangladesh. This phenomenon has become increasingly evident in recent years as the nation grapples with a significant surge in permanent rural-to-urban migration, mainly propelled by climate-related factors. Notably, the rate of such migration has substantially risen, from 1.2 per thousand in 1984 to 22.5 in 2010 (Afsar, 2003; BBS, 2011). Sharma and Hugo (2009) analyzed various studies, revealing that environmental factors, including climate change, have gained significant importance, accounting for up to 40% of the country’s internal migration decision-making process. It is worth noting that two-thirds of all permanent migration from coastal Bangladesh now involves rural-to-urban migration, a trend that has experienced substantial growth over the past three decades (BBS, 2011; Braun & Bernzen, 2019). Furthermore, according to the Internal Displacement Monitoring Centre, environmental disasters in Bangladesh displaced approximately 4.4 million individuals in 2020 (IDMC, 2022). By 2050, it is projected that climate change could internally displace as many as 13.3 million people in Bangladesh, making it the primary driver of internal migration in the nation (Rigaud et al., 2018).

Bangladesh has earned recognition for its commitment to integrating climate change adaptation into its development policies (Khan et al., 2021). However, recent scholarship challenges conventional notions regarding the impact of climate change on development and agriculture in Khulna, Bangladesh. Paprocki (2021) argues that climate adaptation strategies in Bangladesh often overlook the historical context of landscape transformation and conflicts, resulting in adverse effects on marginalized communities. She emphasizes the importance of incorporating the perspectives of local communities advocating for climate justice in Bangladesh into climate adaptation policies to promote sustainable development practices. Similarly, Dewan (2021) challenges the prevailing development narratives that portray Bangladesh as a passive “climate change victim.” She reveals how modernization efforts with negative environmental consequences dating back to colonial times are now being rebranded as climate adaptation measures. Dewan asserts that initiatives such as high-yield agriculture and saline aquaculture pose threats to soil fertility, biodiversity, and livelihoods in the coastal area of Bangladesh.

Furthermore, numerous studies have argued that significant population movements in Bangladesh are likely the result of its low adaptation capacity and the severe impacts of climate change (Brown, 2007; Hunter, 2005; Kniveton et al., 2008; Perch-Nielsen et al., 2008). Studies on the aftermath of Cyclone Aila have also documented these concerns (e.g., Abdullah et al., 2016; Ahsan et al., 2016; Islam & Hasan, 2016; Kabir et al., 2016; Khatun et al., 2017; Mallick et al., 2011; Mallick & Vogt, 2014; Mehedi et al., 2010; Sadik et al., 2018; Sarkar & Vogt, 2015; Tada, 2011; Tajrin & Hossain, 2017), including inadequacies in relief efforts, shortcomings in the Cyclone Aila recovery plan, protracted disruptions in livelihood activities, and persistent hardships such as inadequate housing, food scarcity, substandard sanitation, and limited access to safe drinking water in the affected region. All of these factors ultimately compel many people to leave their areas of origin.

Another recent and significant development in the realm of environmental migration literature is the concept of environmental migration as an effective adaptation strategy. This development is particularly noteworthy because it brings a more optimistic perspective to migration as a response to climate change (Black et al., 2011; Foresight, 2011; McLeman & Smit, 2006; McNamara et al., 2018; Tacoli, 2009). However, Vinke (2019) argues that framing migration as an adaptation strategy underscores the importance of planning and individual agency. He contends that the term “climate migration as adaptation” is often employed as a euphemism to shift responsibility from society and environmental polluters onto the individuals experiencing the consequences.

Additionally, research on environmental migration as an adaptation strategy has yielded conflicting findings. Some studies suggest that migration serves as a valuable adaptation strategy, helping to mitigate the effects of environmental shocks and stresses (Barnett & Webber, 2009; Foresight, 2011; McLeman & Smit, 2006; Tacoli, 2009). However, scholars such as Craig (2015), Uddin (2018), Adger et al. (2020), and Siddiqui et al. (2022) have concluded that while migration in response to climate change provides migrants with new places to live and, for many, new job opportunities, it also exposes them to new vulnerabilities. These vulnerabilities include inadequate access to food, shelter, sanitation, and healthcare in their destination areas. In their study on Aila-induced migration in Khulna city, Rahaman et al. (2018) and Kartiki (2011) observed that although many migrants managed to secure employment within the city, they were compelled to reside in squalid and disease-prone slums, leading to heightened health risks due to overcrowding, inadequate sanitation, and water-related challenges.

This study examines how environmental factors have interacted with a complex web of social, economic, and political factors to drive people living along the coast to migrate to urban areas. It also explores the struggles and adaptations of those moving as a result of Aila have undergone to survive in the urban environment, an area that has received limited attention in the literature. My study has been significantly influenced by Kolmannskog’s (2012) perspective, which posits that climate change does not directly cause migration but instead exacerbates various forms of vulnerability contributing to displacement. Additionally, it draws on Jayawardhan’s (2017) research, which asserts that while anthropogenic climate change affects a community at large, marginalized populations are more susceptible to its impacts due to socio-economic disparities.

The article is based on ethnographic research, which includes observations and loosely structured interviews. I primarily utilized the snowball method to select informants. The number of respondents for interviews was determined based on the concept of interpretive saturation, which suggests that data collection should continue until new interviews cease yielding novel insights or information. I conducted fieldwork for two months in 2019 among families affected by Cyclone Aila in Bangladesh, interviewing 32 men and eight women in Rupsha slum, Khulna city. Additionally, I engaged in discussions with an NGO staff member and a city corporation engineer to gain insights into the development policies implemented in the studied slum. Qualitative interviews were transcribed, translated, and organized by source. To protect confidentiality, pseudonyms have been used for all respondents' names in this paper.

Findings

Climatic Shock: Voices from Aila Victims

Flooding, tidal storms, riverbank erosion, and salinity intrusion are just a few of the common hazards that have always been a part of the lives of coastal people in Bangladesh. The respondents I interviewed confirmed that they had experienced these extreme environmental events in close proximity to their residences. Their statements demonstrate that as they had been raised in such a fragile environment since birth, they knew how to cope with such devastation. However, a common theme emerged across all the responses, suggesting that Cyclone Aila and its detrimental spiraling impacts reached a point where the respondents’ capacity for survival and resilience was severely compromised. Harun Gazi, a 50-year-old migrant from Gilabari, Koyra, recalled how Cyclone Aila made it challenging for him to survive in his homestead:

I have witnessed everything in this life: cyclones, floods, riverbank erosion, and tidal surges. My village is very close to the sea. It is bordered by a river, then the Sundarbans, and finally the sea. ...I witnessed how everything in our area was destroyed by the catastrophic flood of 1988. In 2007, Sidr destroyed everything. We had tried to make up for our losses due to Sidr, but Aila turned our village, agricultural land, shrimp firm (gher), and everything else into a sea of dark water in a moment. Some places are still submerged in saltwater.

The above description was closely echoed by all respondents: Aila’s resulting tidal storms submerged their homestead areas, and they lost all of their possessions—houses, livestock and poultry, orchards, and other household items. The interlocutors did not have the slightest clue how many cattle, chickens, and ducks died. Many of the inhabitants were unable to save anything; they could only look on helplessly. Their primary concern was saving people’s lives, and nothing else had priority in their minds. Unfortunately, there were still casualties. A 40-year-old woman shared a tragic experience: “My friend, along with her infant, was swept away by the tidal surges. The day after Aila hit, when the tide ebbed, their lifeless bodies were found nearby Ghorilal bazar—about one and a half kilometers from her house.” Another respondent from Naksha in Koyra, Khulna, stated that tidal surges washed her grandfather away, and he drowned. When the body was found, it was swollen and decomposed, and no one could go near it due to the putrid odor.

Participants in this study came from diverse backgrounds, including small farmers and sharecroppers, agricultural workers, daily laborers, shrimp farm workers, fish fry and crab gatherers, honey and wood collectors, as well as small businesses predominantly engaged in shrimp fry and crab sales, and transport drivers. The majority of respondents reported owning a small plot of homestead land, while a minority reported owning a small plot of agricultural land, but all of these were devastated by the saline water of Aila’s tidal storms. Almost all respondents confirmed that no one in the coastal region was spared the effects of Aila or the loss of their possessions. However, the vulnerable groups suffered the most because their primary means of subsistence were severely jeopardized. All of this is evident in the following comments:

I used to catch shrimp fry and crab from the Kobadok River and canals in the Sundarbans adjacent to my village, but it got difficult after Aila. I lost the net, the boat, and everything else. (Gaffar, 55)

I had three cows and five goats before cyclone Aila, but I couldn’t save the livestock in a safer place. (Gazi, 45)

We invested TK 50,000 in a shared fish pond, but Aila swept it away. …I borrowed money from several people and invested it, but I was unable to repay it. (Ali, 40)

All respondents reported that Aila had destroyed and damaged their main residences, which were constructed with earthen walls, wood, golpata (Nipa Palm), and tin sheets as roofing materials. Their homestead areas had been washed away, forcing them to seek shelter around the intact sections of the coastal embankment, roads, and higher lands. Only a small number of individuals were able to take refuge in the cyclone shelter. Consistent with these findings, Roy et al. (2009) also reported that the tidal surge caused by Aila washed away the earthen houses in impoverished areas, resulting in at least 90% of families losing their households. An examination of the respondents' narratives revealed that Cyclone Aila not only severely damaged the houses and livelihoods of coastal inhabitants but also disrupted road communication, access to safe drinking water sources, and sanitary facilities, putting them in jeopardy.

Why People Moved

Following the cyclone, the government, NGOs, and numerous national and international humanitarian organizations swiftly mobilized to provide relief and alleviate the suffering of the victims. The government offered small emergency recovery cash grants (TK 3000–5000), distributed rice (each household received 10 kg per month), and provided food assistance (Mahmud & Prowse, 2012; Tada, 2011; UNDP, 2010). Meanwhile, NGOs, with the support of international humanitarian agencies, supplied emergency materials, including food, water, sanitation, emergency shelter, and temporary housing. Although most of the respondents confirmed that they received relief immediately following Aila, they also shared several grievances about the relief operation. These grievances included that it was insufficient, inconsistent, influenced by politics, and poorly coordinated.

All respondents stated that the supply of relief products was insufficient to meet the needs of the victims. Some households were denied relief because they lacked political influence or supported a rival political party. The government and NGOs initiated social safety-net programs such as “Cash for Work” and “Food for Work” to repair embankments; however, these activities were available for only forty days per year, and only one person from each family could participate in this program. Consequently, the program had little impact on alleviating food scarcity among impoverished people.

About three months after Aila struck, the government provided 20 kg of rice per month to households through the VGF (vulnerable feeding program). However, households with more family members could not adequately feed their families with this amount. The program lasted approximately a year and was also influenced by political loyalty. Consequently, safety-net programs did not significantly contribute to the survival of impoverished individuals in their place of birth. The following excerpts demonstrate this clearly:

The VGF program was good, but it only lasted for 10-12 months. The government terminated the program without considering how we would support our families and stay alive. …Most of us received less rice [17-18 kg] than we were supposed to receive [20 kg]. Everywhere there was corruption; there was also a lack of supply. (Ashraful, 38, Shaymnagar)

Some Aila victims who did not support the ruling government’s political party were also deliberately left out of post-disaster aid:

The VGF program did not cover my family. …I was treated as a supporter of a different political party. My family struggled a lot since we couldn't afford to buy rice and other necessities. There were cries for food and shelter everywhere. How long could people survive with so little relief? (Zafor, 65, Bedkashi)

Some respondents mentioned that they had to bribe the middlemen to get cash grants and relief cards, a situation also explored by other researchers (Mahmud & Prowse, 2012). The government deposited TK 20,000 into the bank accounts of victims for building or repairing their houses, but the respondents considered this amount insufficient. Furthermore, some respondents claimed that they had to pay bribes of TK 5000–10,000 to local leaders and their associates (middlemen) in order to get the grant, while some spent their money on food instead of rebuilding. Since there were no other sources of income after Aila, many people turned to fishing as fish from firms and ponds had been dispersed by the flood, earning between TK 150 and 200 per day, which was meager for sustenance. Moreover, as many people engaged in fishing, there were fewer individuals buying fish at the market.

Respondents repeatedly stated that because the embankment was not permanently repaired or construction was delayed, many areas remained exposed to daily inundation with saline water at high tide. This led to prolonged flooding (lasting 3–5 years) in their area, preventing the affected households from restarting income-generating activities or returning to normal life. This finding is supported by the research of Martin et al. (2014). Even the families that were able to return to their homesteads after the embankment was repaired were unable to commence agricultural production on their land due to the sharp increase in soil salinity. A 60-year-old respondent from Bedkashi, Koyra, added the following:

I used to have a tiny piece of land for farming where I grew saline-tolerant paddy, but the land is still inundated in saline water. Some families still live on the dike. The river washed away everything. How can we live there with no home, no income, no food, and no water for drinking? …Yes, some families moved back in after having their homes built with government funding. Some also were fortunate enough to receive housing from NGOs.

The data reveal that poor living conditions in cyclone shelters or temporary makeshift tents on the overcrowded embankment adversely affected women, girls, and family relationships, in particular. There was a chronic shortage of drinking water. Every day, women had to walk more than three kilometers to collect water because the local freshwater ponds and the collective pond sand filter (PSF) tube well had been contaminated by saline water intrusion. Women and girls on the embankment suffered greatly in terms of sanitation and maintaining personal hygiene, a finding reinforced by Mehedi et al. (2010). As a woman in her forties recalled, “We excreted, bathed, and collected water for daily use from the same river; thus, we suffered from different types of skin diseases. Some girls were subjected to sexual harassment as well, but they were ashamed to admit it.” Domestic violence against women also occurred among the marooned people. ‘Chaos, internal strife, scolding, and hitting had increased in everyday lives’, said one of my respondents.”

Aila was a natural hazard, but the damage and losses it caused were also man-made. The respondents’ narratives indicated that the structural integrity of the coastal embankment was significantly compromised by the expansion of export-oriented shrimp cultivation. This expansion began in the coastal zones in the late 1980s with the active involvement of government bodies and international non-governmental organizations (NGOs). As a respondent from Maharajpur lamented:

The shrimp cultivators are the main culprits. They illegally made holes to set up pipes in the dam to bring saline water into their ghers and for selling purposes. These activities have ruined our agriculture, rivers, and embankments. Powerful people were plundering money year after year rather than repairing the embankments, resulting in some of our areas remaining waterlogged for about five to ten years. The mud embankment frequently collapses due to high tides and river overflow.

Another respondent, Firoz (45), mentioned how people have destroyed biodiversity in his area,

Our livelihood depended on the forest [Sundarbans], but some people burned miles and miles of forest for fishing. Some mischievous fishermen and illegal hunters used poison in rivers, canals, and various waterways in the Sundarbans to capture shrimp, crabs, and different types of fish, inadvertently causing harm to other small aquatic creatures. There was nobody to look after this.

Respondents' narratives also reflected both rapid onset and slow onset climatic environmental changes in the coastal areas. They perceived the primary environmental changes in their areas to include the inflow of seawater into rivers, rising river beds, and bank erosion, an increase in high tides, the collapse of coastal embankments, and the subsequent salinization of water and soil. As Firoz recounted once more:

The distance between my village and the river was once about two kilometers, but now it is only about 200 meters due to river erosion. Many families had to shift their homes multiple times and became destitute. The river's bed has filled up; during the summer, anyone can cross the river to reach the Sundarbans without a boat. Seawater often flows into the river and the locality.

The claims of the research subjects provide reasons to think about how environmental hazards interacted with other socio-economic and political factors that forced people to move. Many respondents claimed that after Aila, people from their areas had relocated to nearby towns like Khulna, Satkhira, and Jessore, with some even going as far as Dhaka and Chittagong.

Relocation, Livelihood Management, and Housing

The research participants were asked about their decisions to leave their ancestral homes, who assisted them in relocating, and how they managed their means of subsistence and shelter afterward. Many respondents acknowledged that their move to the city was not fully planned, yet it was not made on a spur-of-the-moment either. Around a quarter of the respondents relocated to nearby cities within a month of Aila, while the rest stayed on the embankment for about a year. The majority took their time, observing the activities of those who had already left, and did their best to survive and return to their normal livelihoods, but without success.

In most cases, not all members of a household moved to the city at the same time, as also found by Mallick (2011). Discussions with respondents revealed that when they found the offered relief insufficient or the relief program stopped, causing enormous difficulties in maintaining their livelihoods, male family heads moved to nearby cities in search of work to support their families. They would then bring other family members to join them. The majority of respondents’ narratives revealed that their pre-existing social networks and relationships significantly influenced their decision to relocate. Only a few respondents asserted that they did not carefully weigh the benefits and drawbacks of their chosen destinations. For example, Islam (50), who had moved from Naksha in Koyra to Khulna, described how he and his family had fled their village after Aila. His migration process followed the traditional patterns of rural-to-urban migration driven by natural disasters. As an uneducated, unskilled man with agricultural roots, he could not find a job in the village and sank deeper into poverty in the aftermath of Aila:

Some people moved after one month, some after two months; it wasn't fixed. I moved to Koyra a few months after Aila because the relief provided was too low to support my family. I worked as a day laborer and later as a rickshaw puller, but I struggled to make ends meet. I moved to Benapole, Jessore, and lived on the side of the road until I secured work at a rice mill, thanks to the support of a friend. But life was hand to mouth there. …One of my relatives assisted my family and me in relocating to Khulna and finding work in a rice mill. I worked at a variety of jobs and now work as a dockyard helper. ...Prior to living in this basti, we lived in Labonchara basti. (Islam, 50, Koyra)

Another respondent from Gilabari, Koya, described villagers staying on the embankment as they waited for the settlement to be dewatered so they could go back to their homesteads: “I tried to subsist on the embankment for approximately a year by eating half-meals or going without food, but I was unable to go back home or hold down a job. I moved to Khulna town, like others in my area, in search of work and a way to make some money.”

In terms of the migration process, the respondents fall into two groups: a small number mentioned that their current location was not their first destination. They had moved from one location to another in search of work and shelter before arriving here. These respondents initially sought refuge at places like the side of the railway station and other roadside locations because they had no money or relatives in the city. On the other hand, the majority of respondents moved directly to their current location with the help of people they knew, such as family members, friends, relatives, or neighbors who were already migrants, or because they had previously visited the city.

The intention of the respondents in leaving their villages was to seek refuge from the aftermath of environmental hazards, economic hardship, and housing problems. They chose to relocate to the city, expecting to find work and earn a living more easily than if they stayed in rural areas. However, the results of the study revealed that life was seldom easy for Aila-driven migrants when they first arrived in Khulna. The majority initially faced worsening unemployment due to a lack of job skills and qualifications for the urban labor market among the rural labor force. More than half of the respondents were illiterate (n = 22), while the rest had only a primary level of education (n = 18). Furthermore, the Aila migrants initially settled in specific areas in Khulna, such as Labonchara, Natun Bazar Basti, Rupsha slum (char basti), and Sonadanga inter-district bus terminal. This triggered intense job competition because there were fewer jobs than people seeking work, resulting in low-paying jobs or unemployment. Our interlocutors mentioned that it took them two to three weeks to secure employment during which they struggled to cover food and lodging expenses. At that time, the majority of respondents remembered their households earning between TK (BDT) 2000 and TK 3000 per month. Many migrants were not employed on a regular basis but rather intermittently (3–4 days a week), which made it challenging to earn a consistent income. Consequently, they had to make do with a meager existence. As one respondent related:

First, we resided in the Khulna railway station area for a few months. Nobody in this city would provide me with a place to stay. I had a really hard time getting a job because I wasn't familiar with the area. Every day, I sat alongside the road with others, hoping that someone would hire me for work. (Morol, 50, Morelganj)

Consistent with prior research (Mallick et al., 2011), the findings of the present study suggest that respondents who were informed in advance about housing and the potential employment market found it easier to decide whether and where to migrate. Similarly, migrants who had prior connections to the city, possessed job skills suitable for urban environments, and were part of location-specific social networks, especially kinship networks, were more successful in finding housing and employment. Harun Gazi, for instance, had an easier time settling in Khulna than many other Aila victims because he had more social capital, despite the memories of his home and farmland being destroyed by Aila still haunting him:

Prior to Aila, I made seasonal trips for employment to Khulna City, just like many other residents of my neighborhood. I am very familiar with this city. …I have worked as a fishmonger, a rickshaw puller, and a rice mill worker. I got my first job in a rice mill with the assistance of my brother-in-law, who has been living in this basti for many years. Even though my family still faces financial difficulties, it is still considerably better than living in the village. I have an income range of TK 6000–7000 every month. (Harun Gazi, 50, Gila bari)

The results of the study reveal that over time, the respondents formed social networks and relationships with others, enabling them to support each other during difficult times, find employment, and secure housing. They mostly managed to find work in the informal sector, but many had to switch jobs. As mentioned earlier, most of the respondents had worked in the agricultural or fishing sectors in their villages, but they now work as rickshaw and van pullers, three-wheeler drivers, fishmongers, rice-processing mill workers, domestic maids, shrimp-processing factory workers, vegetable sellers, construction workers, earth workers, mason helpers, and wage laborers in the city. The findings of the study also demonstrate that the majority of respondents shifted from one occupation to another over time

Due to its proximity to the south-west coastal zone of Bangladesh, Khulna City has experienced a rapid and massive influx of impoverished migrants, leading to intense competition for jobs in the informal sector. As previously mentioned, a primary motivation for urban migration was the hope of escaping economic hardship. However, the respondents held mixed opinions about their current economic status. Most of their household incomes ranged from TK (BDT) 5000 to 8500 per month, and many expressed dissatisfaction with this level. Nonetheless, they also noted that their current situation makes them happier than village life. While relocating to Khulna City may not have significantly improved their economic conditions, it has enabled them to sustain themselves, which was a challenging prospect in their villages following Aila. The following statements capture the sentiments of many respondents:

Every day, people travel to this city in search of employment. When they can’t manage work, they start to pull rickshaws to make ends meet. There are no longer any rickshaws in the garage. …We often have to wait several hours for a rickshaw, which reduces our income—there is no fixed income; my financial condition in this city has not yet improved. (Haque, 47, Bagerhat)

Conversely, another respondent stated:

Right now, I'm employed at a rice mill. I also perform a variety of duties for the rice mill's owner. I was provided a house by the employer, along with a meager TK 6,000 monthly salary. The house is run-down; [yet] I think that living here is safer than living on the embankment without a roof.

On the other hand, a migrant from Morrelganj, Bagherhat, said,

Now I am a fishmonger. I can earn between TK 7000 and 8000 per month. My wife also works as a domestic helper. I try to set aside some money for the future. I no longer go days without eating or go hungry. (Mujibur, 60)

It is challenging to determine whether the benefits of migration outweigh the risks and hazards, but it appears that urban employment opportunities provide these migrants with diverse income sources, sparing them from hunger and dependence on relief. Some have improved their living conditions compared to their village life after Aila. Migration, for some of the environmental hazard-driven migrants, extends beyond mere survival. This qualitative analysis reveals that migration is part of a broader process of socio-economic transformation, where some Aila-driven migrants have worked to diversify their income and secure a better life. Three respondents expressed joy in their children’s achievements, such as completing master’s degrees, which they believe wouldn’t have been possible had they stayed in their remote villages. One mother was thrilled that her daughter’s master’s degree had enabled her to arrange her daughter’s marriage more easily.

Life in the Slum and Networks with Places of Origin

Although the Rupsha slum is approximately two kilometers from the city center, and its residents are predominantly impoverished forced migrants from across the southwest coastal region of Bangladesh, one thing seems to me to be constant: its hustle and bustle. According to an NGO employee who has lived there since infancy, “If you want to talk, you will find all types of migrants in this slum. People who lost their homes due to flooding, Sidr, Aila, and riverbank erosion have gathered here. ...I know some families came to this slum after the terrible flood in 1998.”

Overcrowding, clogged and open drains, waterlogging, shaky or incomplete latrines, stagnant water, mosquitoes and flies, narrow passageways, heaps of rubbish, and unpleasant odors are just a few of the harsh realities that the slum dwellers face in their daily lives. A city corporation engineer claims that the situation has worsened over the last couple of years due to an influx of villagers in search of work. The houses in the slum are closely packed, poorly lit, and lack ventilation. Based on the types of materials used for the walls, roof, and flooring, the houses can be loosely divided into three categories: pacca (old, dilapidated), semi-pacca (CI sheet with brick walls), and kutcha (CI sheet with wood or bamboo-thatch walls). The majority of dwellings are arranged in rows, with a common narrow walkway between them. The engineering, conservancy, and health department of Khulna City Corporation, with the assistance of several NGOs including BRAC, ASHA, and Nobolok Parishad, have implemented WASH-projects in the slum to improve access to proper sanitation, maintain water supply systems and facilities, and educate the underprivileged slum dwellers about the benefits of good hygiene practices. However, I found that the slum residents still lack access to basic necessities like functioning toilets, drainage systems, safe drinking water, and decent housing.

The majority of the respondents’ families dwell in a single room, where they are required to carry out all domestic chores. Due to a lack of space inside the house, some families have created bunk beds. During a conversation regarding housing issues, a woman in her mid-thirties stated, “Nothing in our lives is private. Look at this house: the mother and her young child are sleeping on the floor, while the elder son and his wife are sleeping on the bunk bed.” Better housing is a low priority due to their limited income. Some families utilize the outdoor space along the lane as a kitchen, while others use it for income-generating enterprises such as a tea shop, tailoring, khatha stitching, carpentry, and handicrafts. Nearly all the houses have access to electricity. A renter family pays TK 2000–3000 (for about 150–200 square feet) in rent per month, plus TK 300 for two light bulbs and a fan. The cost of utilities is higher for those who use additional services like television. For cooking, people routinely use discarded wood.

Residents of the slum drink water from tube wells and use river water for other household needs. Many slum dwellers, mostly men, bathe in the Rupsha River, putting them at risk of skin conditions. Some of the respondents claimed that typhoid, diarrhea, and other water-borne infectious diseases are widespread in the slum. Approximately 90% of the interviewees use toilets shared with 20–25 others; as a result, they barely get an opportunity to use the toilet without queuing, particularly in the morning. There are no separate toilets for men and women. These findings align with a study conducted by Haque et al. (2020) in the Rupsha slum. Furthermore, I found that many of the latrines are completely unusable, even though the residents are required to use them. Since the slum lacks a functional drainage infrastructure, residents routinely endure waterlogging and drainage congestion during heavy downpours and throughout the rainy season.

The City Corporation and NGOs have implemented some developmental measures, such as installing new windows in homes, reconstructing pedestrian lanes, and constructing shared toilets. However, it appears that the users do not feel a sense of ownership over these development efforts. Some of the interviewees mentioned the negative effects of these projects on their lives. One respondent said,

An NGO built some shared toilets in our neighborhood and installed new windows in some houses, but we do not benefit because we do not own them. They built communal toilets, but who will keep them clean? …The government rebuilt some lanes within the slum, but afterward, house owners demanded higher rents that we couldn’t afford. (Gazi, 50, Gilabari)

During a brief conversation with a senior-level engineer from the Khulna City Corporation, it became apparent that the WASH (water, sanitation, and hygiene) project, aimed at providing training and raising awareness among slum dwellers, was a short-term undertaking due to limited donor funding. Consequently, these programs failed to have a lasting impact on the lives of slum residents.

Considering the conditions of slum life, respondents were asked if they had any plans to return to their native villages. The majority of respondents in my study (31 out of 40) said they had no intention of returning to their villages. They mentioned various reasons such as a lack of substantial possessions, homes, or homestead areas, river erosion, and a scarcity of sources of income in their villages. A respondent (50) from Gabura said,

My family wants to live in Khulna. …About two years ago, I visited my village and observed that not all of the embankments damaged by Aila had been repaired. Waterlogging in my area is still uncontrolled. I have nothing in my village; where will my family live, and how will I make a living? Those who say they will return to their villages are lying. If you visit this slum even after five years, you will find them.

A woman (42) from Shaymnagar added, “We’ve been in this city for about a decade but have yet to acquire any permanent assets. My husband is paralyzed. …Now, if I decide to return to my village, my children will not agree because what will they do there? They will be unable to adjust there as well.”

The migrants who claim to have temporarily left their areas and intend to return also have no immediate plans to return to their villages, even though they maintain relationships with village people and other relatives. They will return to their villages if the coastal embankments are repaired and they can save some money in the near future These findings support the argument that long-term migration is motivated by livelihood stresses (Findlay & Geddes, 2011) or a desire to improve one’s socio-economic status (Gardner, 2009). One of my interlocutors stated,

We don't want to stay here permanently, but our precarious financial situation forces us. A basti and a village are never the same. Here everything is clumsy and isolated. …I have homestead land but no house in the village. I need some money to build a house. My 4-decimal (0.04 acre) agricultural land has become infertile due to salinity. I intend to start cultivating China nuts on my land, which can grow in saline soil. (Rahman, 60)

Some respondents stated that they commute to their villages on a seasonal basis in order to protect their property and maintain social networks. One respondent mentioned that he is trying to start a vegetable business in Koyra, so he commutes there once a week, while his wife works as a domestic helper in the slum. In this sense, migration can also be used to diversify income and increase resilience or adaptive capacity in the face of natural disasters.

Analysis of Key Research Findings

This paper has explored how environmental factors, particularly Cyclone Aila, interact with a complex web of social, economic, and political forces that drive marginalized people from the coastal zone to migrate to cities. It has also attempted to understand the struggle and adaptation that Aila-driven migrants have encountered in urban settings.

The first part of the findings shows that many respondents had firsthand experience with a range of extreme environmental events, including flooding, tidal storms, riverbank erosion, and salinity intrusion, all stemming from their residence in an ecologically vulnerable coastal area. However, the impact of Cyclone Aila proved to be particularly devastating, causing severe damage to their lives and livelihoods, and profoundly undermining their capacity for survival and resilience. Whether the interviewees left their villages almost immediately or at a later time following Cyclone Aila, they all found themselves in similar vulnerable conditions: having lost everything, they had no place to call home, meager income, and no alternative means of sustenance. This situation has been similarly explored by other researchers (Roy et al., 2009; Roy & Sultana, 2010; UNDP, 2010).

In the second part of the analysis, I delve into the factors propelling the urban migration of coastal inhabitants, specifically examining whether environmental hazards are the sole contributing factor. The findings of the study indicated that the economic vulnerability of the migrants to climate change resulted from their reliance on environmentally fragile economies, including agriculture, fishing, and forest resources in the Sundarbans. Cyclone Aila extensively wrecked agricultural land, crops, and shrimp farms in the coastal area, obliterating people’s means of subsistence. It also resulted in the complete loss of possessions, livestock, and poultry, thereby jeopardizing their primary means of subsistence.

In the immediate aftermath of the cyclone, many governmental agencies, along with both local and international non-governmental organizations (NGOs), came forward to provide short-term relief. Many victims were able to survive for a short while thanks to a few temporary safety-net measures launched by both the government and NGOs; however, the assistance provided through these programs was limited, politicized, and marred by rampant corruption, which disproportionately impacted socio-economically vulnerable groups. The accounts of the respondents reveal that these disadvantaged individuals—particularly the landless and the poorest—occupied lower positions in the rural power structure. They lacked the necessary influence and network connections with local leaders to access sufficient disaster relief assistance, a theme similarly explored by other researchers (Tenhunen et al., 2023; Mahmud & Prowse, 2012; Masud-All-Kamal & Hasan, 2018; Jayawardhan, 2017). Furthermore, following Cyclone Aila, the absence of long-term strategies aimed at addressing the root causes of vulnerability became strikingly evident, aligning with the assessments made by Sadik et al. (2018). Together, these findings underscore the inherent shortcomings within the Cyclone Aila recovery strategy. Consequently, vulnerability persisted over the years, leaving migration as the sole viable or practical option for many of the victims.

As mentioned earlier, Bangladesh is often referred to as “ground zero” for climate-related disasters (Call et al., 2017; NDRC, 2018). It has also been recognized for its remarkable ability to incorporate climate change adaptation into its development policy framework (Khan et al., 2021). However, some research, including the works of Paprocki (2021) and Dewan (2021), underscores the problematic nature of primarily framing development issues through the lens of climate change, especially in the context of Bangladesh. These scholars challenge conventional beliefs by arguing that climate change adaptation policies in Bangladesh prioritize the interests of powerful stakeholders and neglect the needs of local communities. They assert that framing all development issues solely in terms of climate change leads to a neglect of how vulnerability is produced. Furthermore, this framing can result in the “politics of retreat,” where coastal areas are deemed uninhabitable, justifying a lack of investment in welfare and infrastructure. As articulated by Paprocki (ibid.), the adaptation regime envisions the southwest region of Bangladesh as an irredeemable territory, with its inhabitants relegated to mere sustenance, facing a dystopian reality characterized by the challenges of rising sea levels and perilous storms.

The present study contributes to this ongoing discourse by contending that the extent of devastation resulting from environmental hazards can, in part, be ascribed to the policies of governmental and non-governmental organizations aimed at advancing climate change adaptation and reducing the economic vulnerability of coastal inhabitants in Bangladesh. Regrettably, these policies have not ushered in improvements in living standards but, rather, have placed marginalized communities in precarious conditions on both economic and environmental fronts. An illustrative example of such climate change adaptation policies is the construction of coastal embankments in the 1960s. These embankments were constructed to safeguard low-lying land from sea or storm-surge flooding and enhance crop production by averting the infiltration of saline ocean water. Nevertheless, the effectiveness of these embankments remains a subject of ongoing debate. It is worth noting that some policymakers and researchers argue that, following the construction of these embankments, the affected coastal areas grappled with various environmental challenges (Advisory Group on Development of Deltaic Areas, 1966; van Staveren et al., 2017). Specifically, the coastal embankments disrupted the natural water flow in coastal rivers, leading to drainage congestion caused by silt accumulation in tidal rivers and creeks. Moreover, this disruption increased salinity levels in both soil and water in the coastal areas (Brammer, 1990). From the narratives of the respondents in this study, it becomes evident that rivers in their regions gradually silted over time, often due to river erosion and floods affecting their areas. While some respondents highlighted the environmental challenges linked to embankments, they also underscored the critical role of these structures in their regions' resilience. As Parbati (39, Sathkhira) said, “We could live safely on our homesteads if there were employment opportunities, a strong embankment, and an agriculture-based way of life with cows, goats, and other livestock...our political leaders and the government neglect the maintenance and repair of the embankment in our area.”

Another critical policy issue pertains to promoting shrimp farming/aquaculture, strongly supported by the government, USAID, and the World Bank. However, shrimp farming does not offer a viable agrarian livelihood, nor is it environmentally sustainable. Despite becoming a more lucrative industry in coastal areas due to increased global demand during the 1980s, shrimp farming has led to the conversion of hundreds of hectares of productive agricultural land into saltwater ponds, severely affecting the availability of arable land, crop output, food security, access to safe drinking water, rural employment, and biodiversity (Adnan, 2013; Dearing, 2018; Paprocki & Cons, 2014). Participants in this study have identified shrimp farming and shrimp farmers as the principal contributors to environmental and agricultural degradation in their area. Their narratives indicate that powerful shrimp farmers illegally cut or dug holes in the coastal earthen embankment to allow brackish water to flow into their farms. As a result, the embankment became weaker and more prone to breaching, allowing black water to infiltrate the neighborhood and destroy local natural resources and agricultural land, disrupting the livelihoods of the poor and rendering them vulnerable. Respondents frequently highlighted that many locations where prawn farmers had cut embankments or installed pipes through holes drilled in the embankments proved vulnerable to tidal surges resulting from Cyclone Aila. This recurrent waterlogging has persisted over the years.

Coastal areas have been grappling with pervasive water and soil salinity. The respondents emphasized the formidable challenges faced by people in their village areas when it comes to accessing fresh water for drinking and daily needs. This hardship arises from the scarcity of freshwater ponds and the contamination of available water sources with salt water due to intrusion from the sea. Local biodiversity has also experienced significant setbacks as a result of salinity intrusion. One respondent vividly articulated this concern, explaining, “With the advent of shrimp farming, I witnessed the conversion of various land types–including ponds, agricultural land, khasland (state-owned land), and abandoned areas–into shrimp enclosures, driven by profit motives. Consequently, salinity levels in both soil and water have increased, leading to a gradual decline in the populations of frogs, earthworms, and other fauna. Agricultural land has become unsuitable for cultivation, and the once-abundant local fish in the river are now extinct.” It is worth noting that shrimp farming has also been associated with dispossession and land grabbing, as also noted by Paprocki and Cons (2014). Consequently, farmers in some coastal regions have organized themselves to protect the ongoing agricultural practices in their villages, opposing the shift towards commercial shrimp aquaculture and the associated land dispossession, as documented by Adnan (2013) and Paprocki and Huq (2018).

Based on the research findings mentioned above, this article demonstrates that the vulnerabilities and migration of people living along the coast are not solely attributable to environmental factors, despite the devastation caused by Cyclone Aila. Instead, their vulnerabilities are intricately linked with societal practices and have deep historical roots within the region. Consequently, it questions the conventional assumption that environmental hazards are the sole driving force behind migration among coastal inhabitants. Migration is the outcome of a confluence of multifaceted factors, with the impacts of Cyclone Aila becoming intertwined with government policies, the marginalized/vulnerable position of individuals in the socio-political and economic structure of Bangladeshi society, and the proximity of their homes to ecologically vulnerable areas.

The concluding section of the analysis centers on migration processes and assesses whether migration serves as an effective adaptation strategy. Migrants acknowledged that their decision to move to urban areas was not entirely premeditated; however, it was not a hasty decision either. Similar to Martin et al.’s (2014) findings, this study also concludes that migration decisions are typically made by migrants following deliberation with family members, friends, relatives, and other associates. Social networks play a pivotal role in their decision-making and migration processes, as well as in mitigating the challenges of urban living. Most migrants initially relocate to areas where they already have existing networks of relatives and friends, often from the same regions. However, over time, their social networks expand to encompass not only their fellow migrant families but also neighbors from distant areas.

Kartiki (2011) attributes environmental migration from rural coastal villages in Bangladesh to a lack of choice and agency. Indeed, the respondents in my study had limited opportunities to secure a stable living in an urban setting due to their lack of formal education, occupational training, the necessary skills required for the urban labor market, and their underprivileged backgrounds. Nevertheless, it was also discovered that migrants with the requisite social networks, prior connections to the city, and some job skills were able to leverage their agency to find work and shelter in the city. Migrants take on various roles depending on employment opportunities, transitioning from one occupation to another as they seek to earn a livelihood in the urban setting. With a few exceptions, nearly all the respondents' statements reveal that they received assistance from others in locating work and housing. Networks disseminate information about new job opportunities, forms of government or NGO assistance, and also aid Aila migrants in the slum in developing strong identities.

Much of the intention of the respondents leaving the villages was to escape environmental hazards, overcome economic hardship, address their inability to sustain their livelihoods and deal with housing crises. All the respondents ended up working in the informal sector or as manual laborers in the city, where wages are low and competition is intense. Despite this, the vast majority of respondents reported that they can now make a living in the city with ease. As discussed earlier, environmental migration functions as a valuable adaptive strategy, mitigating the effects of environmental shocks and stresses (McLeman & Smit, 2006; Barnett & Webber, 2009; Tacoli, 2009; Foresight. 2011). Results presented here reinforce previous findings that migration is an adaptive response to socio-economic and environmental transformation, with the majority of Aila victims having improved the overall resilience of their livelihoods in the urban setting. In a similar vein, the study also confirms that migration exposes these people to new vulnerabilities, such as inadequate housing, filthy toilets, poor sanitation, and a lack of institutional support in the slum, even though the majority of respondents said that at least they can now earn a living and can sleep peacefully in a house, which was impossible on the embankment.

Research (Islam & Hasan, 2016; Penning-Rowsellet al., 2013; Kartiki, 2011) shows that permanent migration in response to environmental hazards is rare, except in cases where there are concurrent losses in land and assets. Results presented here show that the majority of the respondents do not want to return to their ancestral homes, although some have become trapped in a downward cycle of poverty in the city. The likelihood of their returning has lessened due to the lack of sustainable livelihood options in home villages and because the ecology and environment are at risk. Nonetheless, it is crucial to acknowledge that viewing migration purely as an adaptation strategy to climate change and environmental hazards may depoliticize the issue, absolving the state of its responsibility to address environmental hazards and unfairly transferring the burden to already vulnerable and overburdened migrant populations (Sakdapolrak et al., 2016).

Conclusion

This study suggests that policymakers and development cooperation should address the socio-political and economic drivers of vulnerability of coastal communities. They need to focus on fostering sustainable livelihoods and strengthening social safety-net programs to enhance the resilience of vulnerable populations. Furthermore, a participatory approach to climate change adaptation in Bangladesh, focusing on empowering local communities and addressing their unique needs and perspectives, is essential. Recognizing the agency of people and communities in responding to environmental challenges and developing policies that support their adaptive strategies are also crucial. Following Tacoli (2011), I argue that the most important considerations for migrants who may be considering a potential return to their ancestral land, as well as in terms of limiting the influx of future migration from coastal areas, are stronger policies to strengthen the resilience and reduce the vulnerability of those who live in areas affected by climate change. This necessitates addressing both environmental and non-environmental factors as well as understanding the importance of restoring locally sustainable livelihoods.