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  • Marshall Islands. Now. The legend is that the Marshall Islands

  • were created by a god whose name was Lowa. He descended on the atoll Ailinglaplap. And

  • he created the islands by saying Lowa and islands and there were islands. Lowa and people

  • and there were people. Lowa and fish and there were fish and on and on like that.

  • So our land, you know, like our mothers, you know, they provide for everything and our

  • ocean--same thing. We've always thought about the ocean as our

  • friends right now it's becoming a threat to us. You know when you find a globe and you

  • give it a whirl and it goes around and around and around and then as the going slows, your

  • eyes come to rest on a dash of color that has never caught your attention before? A

  • spot that sits on the part of the sphere you normally spin right past? An island so isolated

  • that you're not even sure how you'd explain where it is? Somewhere whose story is seen

  • as insignificant? A land that's lost to most of the world; left out of the history

  • books apart from a passing mention? That place is herethe Republic of the Marshall Islands.

  • But unknown, untold, unremembered places aren't unique. What makes the Marshall Islands'

  • story singular is not that's it's unrecognized from above, but because it's under siege

  • from below, and it's only when you see it from in the middle that you can understand

  • why. Go on, take a look. You won't have the chance for long.

  • We can talk more about the end of their world later, but first I've got to tell you about

  • what we've got here. It's a small nation, the Marshall Islands, with a bit over 50,000

  • residents and 70 square miles of land, split up into 29 atollsthin rings of land encircling

  • saltwater lagoons. While significant populations can be found on 13 of those atolls, over half

  • of the Marshallese people can be found on this one, Majuro. About 28,000 live on the

  • capital atoll, and none of those 28,000 live more than a few-minutes walk from the ocean.

  • The furthest you can get from the water is about 2,000 feet or 600 meters inland, but

  • that's an anomaly. In most spots, water flanks you closely on both sides. In some

  • spots, the atoll gets so thin that you could stand in the lagoon and have a conversation

  • with someone standing in the ocean. Life on a remote, sunny, coral atoll may sound

  • idyllic, but the population density of Majurogreater than that of Bahrain, Bermuda, or Bangladeshhas

  • not been kind to the mother atoll. In a part of the world usually thought of as pristine,

  • sparse, and pastoral, Majuro is instead gritty, overcrowded, and urbanized. It's far from

  • an island paradise. “Based on the 2011 census, which is the

  • last census we had, the average household size on Majuro was about seven people and

  • household income is about sixteen thousand dollars in that neighborhood file. Sixteen

  • thousand divided by seven. You know, if you can, that can be a challenge. That can be

  • tough.” Here's the problem: some places are poor

  • because they haven't yet seized their opportunity. Others are poor because they have no opportunity.

  • Majuro is in that second category. “Characteristics of the economy here in

  • the islands is, you know, you're looking at fish, coconuts, people, I mean, outside of

  • that our natural resources are fairly scarce, and then combined with our challenges with

  • education and skills attainment, it makes it even more challenging with people being

  • laid off her third largest natural resource. There are some major inhibitors for sustaining

  • economic growth, expanding the economy here in the islands.”

  • Like many small islands nations, the Marshall Islands doesn't have too much in the way

  • of natural resources worth exporting, and even when it does manage to produce something

  • people might want to buy, the cost of shipping it to those potential buyers will have pumped

  • up the price so much that it's no longer worth it. One of the very few things they

  • make decent business of selling abroad is copra, or dried coconut meat, which is produced

  • mainly on outer atolls and then brought into Majuro for processing. It's a work-intensive

  • process mostly conducted by families who form informal assembly lines, getting paid 50 cents

  • a poundand even that low wage is the result of heavy government subsidies.

  • Because creating viable export goods is so difficult, most of the jobs in the Marshall

  • Islands are either in government, or the subsistence economyin other words, most people in the

  • Marshall Islands are providing services or making goods exclusively for the Marshall

  • Islands, which leaves very little opportunity for growth. But, the country does have one

  • tiny little asset that keeps it runningits location. A location that makes the Marshall

  • Islands attractive to one of the world's biggest businessesthe US Military. The

  • American military presence can be found mainly on Kwajalein Atoll, which serves as a key

  • test site for the US ballistic missile defense system, among other purposes. In the end,

  • it's simple logic: The US Military wants access to the Marshall Islands, the Marshall

  • Islands wants money and security, and thus, an agreement existsthe Compact of Free

  • Association. “So the Compact of Free Association, it

  • basically lays the foundation for the relationship between the United States and the freely associated

  • states.” “One section of the compact deals with the relationship between our peoples

  • and it allows for qualified citizens to live and work and study in the United States without

  • a visa. There is another section of the compact that generally governs economics and it provides

  • for grants and services, all kinds of USG assistance coming to the Marshall Islands,

  • and the third big section of the compact has to do with security provisions. The United

  • States is the guarantor of security in the Marshall Islands.”

  • It's difficult to overstate the significance of the compactit's the basis for the

  • entire modern economic and political system of the Marshallsand while each of the three

  • sections has an enormous impact on the country, perhaps none is more consequential than the

  • second: financial aid. “The Marshalls are heavily dependent on

  • money from donors or from the United States. That's a tremendous part of the national income,

  • upwards of 70, 80 percent.” “The U.S. provides approximately 100 million dollars

  • every year to the RMI as a combination of grants and services and programs.”

  • Now, it's a big world out there, and there are quite a few places the US could send $100

  • million a year to in exchange for military access, so why here? Why is there this strange

  • partnership between one of the world's largest superpowers and one of the world's smallest

  • countries? Well, like most strange things, it came as the result of millions of years

  • of chance and circumstance. About 70 million years ago, 29 ancient volcanoes

  • in what we would now call the North Pacific came to life and spewed out lava which quickly

  • cooled and built up into under-ocean volcanic structures until they grew so much that they

  • emerged above the water and became islands. Around these islands, coral began to form,

  • eventually coalescing into what's known as a fringing coral reef, which encircled

  • each island. Time went on, the dinosaurs ruled, then died or became birds, then mammals started

  • mattering, and so on and so on, and as that all happened those islands were slowly eroding

  • and undergoing subsidencethey slowly sunk into the sea. Eventually, the islands disappeared

  • under the ocean, but the coral reefs that had formed around them remained. It is these

  • 29 rings of coral, called atolls, that make up what's now known as the Marshall Islands.

  • Sometime, millions of years later, but 4,000 years before today, the first Marshallese

  • settlers arrived on the islands, coming from either here, here, here, or hereor some

  • combination of those places. They split the atolls into two chains: the eastern Ralik,

  • or sunrise chain, and the western Ratak, or sunset chain. From those early Marshallese,

  • eight clans emerged, of which, four became dominant. Thechee-teaconquered Northern

  • Ralik, thearab-ra-joeytook southern Ralik, and theroo-may-yourclan conquered

  • nearly all of Ratak, but then gave nearly all of it to their offspring, of therah-no

  • clan. These early Marshallese wore traditional clothing,

  • which looked like this, lived in large community-based homes, which looked like this, and practiced

  • a religion that involved complex dances and tattoos, which looked like this.

  • The first Western explorers to find the Marshall Islands were Spaniardsand there were a

  • few of them. The first one was this guy, in 1526, then this guy in 1529, and then this

  • guy in 1530. Over the next three hundred years, more explorers stopped through the Marshallsincluding

  • Frenchmen, Russians, and this guy, British Captain John Charles Marshall in 1788, after

  • whom the islands were named on Western maps. Technically, during this time, the Spanish

  • claimed sovereignty over the Marshall Islands as part of the Spanish East Indies, which

  • included all of this, but that claim was largely just theoretical. The Spanish never had a

  • formal administration, never tried to exert influence, and never even really visited apart

  • from those early explorers, whose only real impact had been giving the Marshallese European

  • diseases. Much more relevant to the actual history of

  • the Marshalls was the presence of these people: Boston missionaries who first arrived in 1857

  • aboard the Morning Star. They landed here, on Ebon atoll and were met by Chief Kabua,

  • whose great, greatsome number of greatsgrandson was the first president of the Marshall Islands,

  • and whose some greater number of greats grandson is the current president. Chief Kabua allowed

  • the missionaries to stay there, where they began spreading Christianity throughout the

  • islands. Not only were they teaching them about this guy and this book, they also actively

  • changed Marshallese culture, even going so far as to ban traditional tattooing and dancing

  • because they referenced the traditional Marshallese religion.

  • Soon, the Marshall Islands changed even more, as the first genuine Western settlers, the

  • Germans, began to make residence in the islands. In 1875 they signed a Treaty of Friendship

  • with Chief Kabua, and developed a consulate, trading posts, and economic ties, eventually

  • buying the Marshalls from Spain in 1885, the same year they worked with Chief Kabua to

  • make the Marshall Islands an official German protectorate. Also, importantly, they brought

  • in more missionaries who spread even more Christianity.

  • But then, in 1914, the Germans decided to invade here, which led to here invading here,

  • and then here invading here, and then here invading here, and then here invading here,

  • and also, not that many people paid attention to it, the Japanese invading here: the Marshall

  • Islands. Japan took the Marshalls in part for strategic reasons, in part for economic

  • reasons. After all, even in the final years of German rule, they controlled over 80% of

  • the island's trade. Once World War I ended and all these people got together to sign

  • the Treaty of Versailles, the Council of the League of Nations gave control of the Marshall

  • Islands to the Japanese. While in power, they expanded their administration, introduced

  • Japanese culture, and moved about 1,000 Japanese citizens to the islands.

  • But then, because of some things going on here and here and also here, the Japanese

  • decided to drop bombs here, which led to the United States entering World War II and eventually

  • taking the Marshalls from the Japanese in 1944. And then came this:

  • When the United States dropped atomic bombs on Hiroshima and Nagasaki, it began a new

  • chapter in the world's history: the nuclear age. For some, it was exciting. There were

  • mushroom cloud cakes, Miss Atomic beauty pageants, and talk of unlimited clean energy, unparalleled

  • military dominance, and an everlasting world peace. But, of course, the enduring legacy

  • of nuclear weapons is not peace or energy, but destruction. And while what happened in

  • Hiroshima and Nagasaki can be found in any book of modern history, there's another

  • chapter of the nuclear story that's told far less often: that of the Marshall Islands.

  • So what happened at the end of World War 2 was there had already been three nuclear

  • weapons detonatedone in New Mexico and then Hiroshima and Nagasakibut the United

  • States at that time, not just the United States, the Russians, toothey wanted to increase

  • their knowledge about the new nuclear testing, and so they needed a testing ground, and when

  • they looked around the globe, they needed several requirements for a proving ground

  • for their nuclear testingit had to be out of the way of major airline and shipping routes,

  • had to be under the control of the United States, had to have a really wide area lagoon

  • to anchor the ships to do the testing with, somewhere really far out of the way, and they

  • looked around the map and they saw Bikini.” Bikini Atoll sits at the northern end of the

  • Ralik chain, 2.3 square miles of land encircling a 229 square mile lagoon. It was perfect:

  • the right size, the right shape, the right location, and the right political status,

  • as the US had been given jurisdiction over the Marshall Islands at the end of the war.

  • And so, onto tiny Bikini Atoll, the United States moved in 42,000 personnel on 242 ships,

  • and began to experiment with the greatest power ever unleashed by mankind.

  • First there was the Crossroads Able bomb, 21 kilotons, far greater than Little Boy,

  • the 15 kiloton bomb dropped on Hiroshima; then, Crossroads Baker, 23 kilotons; but these

  • were nothing compared to what came next: Castle Bravo. Detonated on March 1, 1954, this bomb

  • produced the most powerful explosion the world had ever seen—15 megatons; one thousand

  • times more powerful than the Hiroshima bomb. For the United States, it was a triumph: the

  • greatest example yet of nuclear technology's potential. For Nerje Joseph, on neighboring

  • Rongelap Atoll, it was the start of a long nightmare.

  • My name is Nerje Joseph. I come from Rongelapand then I was in Rongelap in 1954, nuclear detonation.”

  • Nerje was only eight on Bravo Day. Today, at 74, she still remembers it vividly.

  • When it went off we didn't know what was going on but, we saw lots of different colors.

  • It looked like a rainbow.” “Later that day, there were a lot of powders that fell

  • from the sky and we didn't know what it was and it looked like snow. They covered their

  • land, hair, skin, and their drinking water and when they wanted to drink water, they

  • had to get rid of the powder to be able to drink water.”

  • That powder, of course, was nuclear fallout: pulverized pieces of coral laced with radiation

  • that had been shot up into the air, and carried by wind onto Rongelap. But the people of Rongelap

  • had no idea what it wassome of the kids even stuck their tongues out and let it fall

  • into their mouths, thinking it was snow. Despite the enormous danger posed to the people of

  • Rongelap, the US didn't evacuate them for two days. By that time, the radiation sickness

  • had started to take hold. “I remember there was an airplane that came

  • in and people with uniform with medals on them came and stopped them from drinking and

  • eating food on the land.” “After they took us to Kwajalean that's when we started

  • feeling sick. We started throwing up, having diarrhea, we were feeling really cold and

  • we were aching all of our body.” Of the hundreds of people on Rongelap that

  • day, Nerje is one of just ten who are still alive. No one on Rongelap died that day, but

  • that doesn't mean the bomb didn't kill them. Many fell victim to thyroid cancer,

  • which has been linked to the fallout from Bravo, and none have been able to return to

  • their home. “I want to go back, but I don't know that

  • I can, because they told me that it is still nuclear active.”

  • The collateral damage of nuclear testing isn't limited only to the people of Rongelap. There's

  • another group of victims, whose pain began before a single bomb was detonatedthe 167

  • inhabitants of Bikini atoll. To the United States, once they'd identified Bikini as

  • a suitable test site, its people were more of an afterthought than an obstacle.

  • They ask them if they're there, they'd be willing to move for the good of mankind

  • and to end all world wars. And Judah, the leader of the Bikinians, he just keeps standing

  • up and saying the same answer every time he says [speaking in Marshallese], which is 'everything's

  • in the hands of God.' And if you know what I know about Marshallese culture, if someone

  • said to me, if I asked them if I could do something, they said everything's in the hands

  • of God. That's about as much as a no as you're ever gonna get. I mean, it's in the hands

  • of God. You better be careful, but if you watch today, the twenty six takes of the same

  • shot that the Commodore stands up dust off his pants. In the end, he says, well, everything

  • being in the hands of God, it cannot be other than good, and off he walks.”

  • With that, the people of Bikini were evacuated, and while they were told, of course, that

  • they would one day be able to return to their home, thatlike so many things the Marshalls

  • were told as nuclear testing beganwas a lie. After they were evacuated, the Bikinians

  • underwent a grueling saga, placed by the United States here, on uninhabited Rongerik Atoll,

  • which they soon discovered had toxic fish and land where nothing grew.

  • So but I think the US looked at Rongerik and looked at bikini: 'palm trees, beach,

  • looks the same.' You'll just go there and they dropped them off there, the Bikinians

  • and they starved." After two years, they were moved to tents

  • here at Kwajalein base, then finally here, to Kili Island. And meanwhile, with each bomb

  • the Americans detonated, more and more of the Bikinian's land was vaporized. The little

  • that remained was laced with nuclear radiation that wouldn't dissipate for thousands of

  • years. “And in the in the mid early nineteen late

  • 1960s, President Johnson on the front page of The New York Times on a Sunday edition

  • said that bikini was now safe on recommendations from the Atomic Energy Commission that everybody

  • could go back.” While they were skeptical, many were so desperate

  • to return home that they went, choosing to trust the Americans. Perhaps unsurprisingly,

  • that trust was not rewarded. “After about eight or nine years, they discovered

  • that the people were ingesting the food grown on the island and the cesium 137 radioactive

  • element was going up into the crops and they're eating this. So it was discovered in the late

  • 70s that they had these very high body burdens of cesium 137, so they moved them off again

  • and they haven't been back since.” In the end, the United States dropped 67 nuclear

  • bombs on the Marshall Islands between 1946 and 1948; still today, many parts of the the

  • country show radiation levels that far exceed those of Chernobyl.

  • It was really, the Cold War was fought and won by the United States on the shores

  • of Bikini and Enewetak in the Marshall Islands. We really gave a lot to the United States,

  • and the idea that it's not even talked about. It's really kind of for lack of a better word,

  • I would say it's insulting.” As the Marshall Islands struggles to lift

  • itself from the crater of nuclear testing, a new threat loomsone whose capacity for

  • destruction dwarfs that of an atomic warhead: water.

  • Recall for a moment the attributes of an atollcomprised of coral, small in size, and notably narrow.

  • Now, add to that mental picture two more tragic geological truthsatolls are extraordinarily

  • low-lying, and exceedingly flat, which is to say, by their very nature, atolls are uniquely,

  • acutely susceptible to the deadly power of a rising sea.

  • The implications are dire for this atoll nation and similar atoll nations.”

  • Most of the atolls of the Marshall Islands sit at less than six feet above sea level.

  • Marshallese homes, businesses, streets, people sit at less than six feet above sea level.

  • As temperatures rise, and seas with them, that six feet begins to disappear fast.

  • Imagine an aircraft carrier that has a free board of perhaps, I don't know, 150 feet.

  • But if you lowered that free board to six feet and sea level rose seven feet. Well,

  • the picture is pretty plain for anyone to, to imagine. And that's precisely what is predicted

  • to happen and what is happening gradually for atolls.”

  • "It's not just erosion, but there's actual land loss. Submergence, but also the deprivation

  • of the use of land for any viable purpose, including simply to live on.”

  • People who have not visited an atoll have really no concept of what it means not to

  • have land in an oceanic expanse as vast as the Pacific. So any loss in land is dire.

  • 30 feet of land on a high island is still significant, but 30 feet of land loss or unavailability

  • of land for living is a tragedy on an atoll.” For the Marshallese, land loss isn't just

  • devastating from a scientific perspective; it's corrosive to the fundamental tenets

  • of their culture. While nearly all societies prize land, in the Marshall Islands, the relationship

  • between its people and land is especially precious.

  • "You have to understand that every Marshallese is attached to a piece of land. Like, my kids

  • all have, they know where their pieces of land are on Bikini and that's their gift from

  • God and that's like their anchor in life.” “Marshallese people have a connection to

  • land.” “We have a connection to place. Again, like I said, everybody owns land in

  • the Marshalls, and then but just not just that. Every piece of land has some story,

  • some markings, some name. You know, that's ancient, that's deep. What happens to that

  • knowledge if you lose that land, if you lose that connection? What happens to who you are

  • as a person? To our identity?" But the Marshallesethe people who settled

  • distant atolls, who navigated through an unforgiving sea, who endured colonization, disease, war,

  • and 63 nuclear bombsrefused to allow their ocean to be turned into a weapon against them.

  • And so, they decided to fight backbut they couldn't do it alone.

  • At the end of the day, the Marshall Islands is 0.0001 percent of the world's global emissions.

  • We could be the most polarized island on the planet and it would still go underwater if

  • the rest of the world doesn't take it into consideration and make changes, right? So

  • we have to fight on a global level.” What the Marshallese, through their climate

  • activism, are fighting to defend is complex and multi-faceted—a combination of culture,

  • tradition, soil, coral, homes, language, history, and people. Yet what they hope to achieve

  • can be condensed to a single number: 1.5. 1.5 degrees Celsius above pre-industrial levels;

  • that's the magic number for the Marshallese, the limit for how much the Earth can warm

  • before their island home becomes uninhabitable. If global temperatures creep above 1.5, it's

  • lights out. Streets and houses flood. Land disappears. Crops die. Above 1.5, the atolls

  • which, for thousands of years, have supported life, transform into engines of death.

  • Mitigating climate change in any meaningful way is already a nearly insurmountable endeavor.

  • Limiting it to 1.5 would be next to impossible. The Marshallese would face opposition from

  • not only governments and industry, but also from other climate change activists, whose

  • focus had long been on a different number: 2.

  • Limiting temperature rise to 2 degrees above pre-industrial levels had, for many years,

  • been the aim of policy, the object of studies, and the goal of activists. In the mainstream

  • climate change debate, 2 wasn't the backup, the worst case scenario, the not-too-bad.

  • 2 was seen as the ideal, the ambition, the gold standard.

  • 1.5, on the other hand, was, to many, a pipe dream. It was called unrealistic, impossible,

  • a distractionbut the Marshallese knew it was the only way for their atolls to survive.

  • And it was not just the Marshalls; above 1.5, atoll nations like Tuvalu, the Maldives, and

  • Kiribati would face the same fate. Among these most vulnerable countries, a motto soon emerged:

  • 1.5 to stay alive.

  • The fight for 1.5 would be far from easy, but they knew where it would have to be wonthe

  • 2015 United Nations Climate Change Conference in Paris, where 196 countries would come together

  • to develop a global plan for combating global warming. But, before they could do that, they

  • had to build influence. A Marshallese government minster named Tony de Brum started building

  • relationships and rallying support around the world, making a name for the small Marshall

  • Islands in the big world of climate change activism. He represented the Marshalls at

  • conferences and meetings all over the worldin Copenhagen, in Doha, in Warsaw, in Lima, joining

  • with other countries as part of the Alliance of Small Island States. And while de Brum

  • made impressive progress, when it comes geopolitics, there's only so much influence and power

  • that can be amassed by an atoll nation with a population lower than most small cities.

  • So, he began work on a new coalition, one that could emerge at Paris to force the conversation

  • to 1.5, but it needed a spark. In September 2014, that spark came, when the UN Climate

  • Summit invited Marshallese poet Kathy Jetnil-Kijiner to speak at their Opening Ceremony. With the

  • entire nation on her shoulders, she read to the gathered leaders of the world a letter

  • she had written

  • to her newborn daughter.

  • Kathy: Dear matafele peinam, you are a seven month old sunrise of gummy smiles you

  • are bald as an egg and bald as the buddha you are thighs that are thunder and shrieks

  • that are lightning so excited for bananas, hugs and our morning walks past the lagoon

  • dear matafele peinam, i want to tell you about that lagoon that lucid, sleepy lagoon lounging

  • against the sunrise men say that one day that lagoon will devour you they say it will gnaw

  • at the shoreline chew at the roots of your breadfruit trees gulp down rows of your seawalls

  • and crunch your island's shattered bones they say you, your daughter and your granddaughter,

  • too will wander rootless with only a passport to call home dear matafele peinam, don't

  • cry mommy promises you no one will come and devour you no greedy whale of a company sharking

  • through political seas no backwater bullying of businesses with broken morals no blindfolded

  • bureaucracies gonna push this mother ocean over the edge no one's drowning, baby no

  • one's moving no one's losing their homeland no one's gonna become a climate change refugee

  • or should i say no one else to the carteret islanders of papua new guinea and to the taro

  • islanders of the solomon islands i take this moment to apologize to you we are drawing

  • the line here because baby we are going to fight your mommy daddy bubu jimma your country

  • and president too we will all fight and even though there are those hidden behind platinum

  • titles who like to pretend that we don't exist that the marshall islands tuvalu kiribati

  • maldives and typhoon haiyan in the philippines and floods of pakistan, algeria, colombia

  • and all the hurricanes, earthquakes, and tidalwaves didn't exist still there are those who see

  • us hands reaching out fists raising up banners unfurling megaphones booming and we are canoes

  • blocking coal ships we are the radiance of solar villages we are the rich clean soil

  • of the farmer's past we are petitions blooming from teenage fingertips we are families biking,

  • recycling, reusing, engineers dreaming, designing, building, artists painting, dancing, writing

  • and we are spreading the word and there are thousands out on the street marching with

  • signs hand in hand chanting for change NOW and they're marching for you, baby they're

  • marching for us because we deserve to do more than just survive we deserve to thrive dear

  • matafele peinam, you are eyes heavy with drowsy weight so just close those eyes, baby and

  • sleep in peace because we won't let you down. you'll see.”

  • Standing ovations aren't common at the United Nations. Kathy's lasted a full minute.

  • Why do you think poetry is an effective means of activism? What is it about poetry

  • that you think makes people listen?” “I'm not going to makehm, why iswell,

  • I think poetry forces people to slow down and connect to the emotion of the issue. Right.

  • Rather than just facts and data and fear. And, you know, written statements, right?

  • Poetry is personal. Poetry connects you to the issue and connects you to why you should

  • care about the issue.” And then, it was time to go to Paris.

  • The Paris Conference lasted 14 days, and for the first 11, nearly all discussion centered

  • around 2 degrees. But in the final three days of negotiation, Tony de Brum began to execute

  • his plan, when he unveiled the High Ambition Coalition—a previously secret alliance of

  • over 90 countries that Tony had spent the last year coalescing. The High Ambition Coalition

  • ranged from the small atoll of Kiribati to the powerhouse nations of the European Union,

  • and together, they turned the entire conference on its head, demanding the agreement include

  • 1.5. It was such a jarring and extraordinary show of power orchestrated by such a small

  • nation that many said it couldn't be real. Chinese negotiators called it meaningless;

  • representatives from Bangladesh called it a stunt. And in truth, it was not completely

  • clear just how formal this coalition waswhen pressed, Tony couldn't even say how many

  • members it had. But it didn't matter, because the momentum had already changed. New countries

  • began to join: Argentina, Brazil, Chile, Iceland, Sweden. Before long, a majority of the represented

  • nations supported 1.5. In less than three days, Tony de Brum took 1.5 from pipe dream

  • to reality. In the end, 184 countries resolved that they

  • would “[hold] the increase in the global temperature to well below 2 degrees Celsius

  • above pre-industrial levels, and [pursue] efforts to limit the temperature increase

  • to 1.5 degrees Celsius above pre-industrial levels.”

  • They got 1.5 in there. Right. 1.5 huge for us. The global temperature. You know,

  • to maintain our, our, our survival. That before we went to that conference, I was told by

  • many people that 1.5 wouldn't make it in there. It would. It was too hard. You know, even

  • though for our survival, we need that temperature to be recognized.” “Yeah, Tony was the

  • one that orchestrated that. And so beyond that, you know, we've also we've also continued

  • that momentum from Tony's legacy once he passed on.”

  • Yes, we were kind of a champion for climate change in the Paris meeting. You know, by

  • working with a group of people, which were what's called the ambition group. And I know

  • it's kind of amazing prize to be able to gather a number of people who supported us doing

  • meetings and resulted in the Paris Accord.” “You know, next day we were on The New York

  • Times praising our effort and I'm glad that I was part of that.”

  • It was an enormous, unexpected, deserved victorybut it didn't last.

  • The Paris Agreement was, without a doubt, the most important collective step the world

  • has made towards solving climate change. It was also, in many ways, a complete and utter

  • failure. Many of the pledges made by countries were unspecific, unambitious, and perhaps

  • most importantly, unenforceable. In Paris, the world promised topursue

  • effortsto limit temperatures to 1.5. Already, in 2015, it was a weak promise. The five years

  • since have proven it meaningless. Paris was supposed to serve as a starting place, with

  • more ambitious pledges to be made in the future. Now, it is the future, and the more ambitious

  • pledges are nowhere to be found. And even the inadequate commitments of Paris have often

  • been completely ignored. In stories, the underdog is supposed to win.

  • When they give it their all, when they combine dreams and drive, when they form a High Ambition

  • Coalition, when they read Dear Matafele Peinem, when they chant 1.5 to stay alive, it's

  • supposed to work. Today, projections show that under the best

  • case scenario, we'll reach 1.5 in 2052. Worst case, 2030. Either way, in a few short

  • decades, three millennia of Marshallese civilization will come to an end.

  • King Tides Already, today, flooding and inundation are

  • common in the Marshall Islands. But things get especially bad during what the Marshallese

  • call king tides. “Since 2011, we've seen more and more

  • king tides. The ocean that provides is getting closer and closer to our living room.”

  • A combination of lunar cycles, wind patterns, and, of course, rising seas coalesce into

  • waves that flood streets, yards, and homes. For the Marshallese, the destruction and disorder

  • king tides bring have become an increasingly normal part of everyday life.

  • ““We're flat as a pancake here. And and if you go out today at five, five, forty five,

  • the high tide. You know, I know that because yesterday I was driving home a little after

  • 5:00 in the water was splashing. I drive Volkswagens. The water splashing on a saltwater splashing

  • on a Volkswagen is not a good feeling because they they melt with the rust. And so I knew

  • today, I don't always know when the high tide is because I worry about that kind of stuff.

  • But other people worry about it, too, because it's hitting their houses. You never used

  • to know when high tides were unless you were someone who's out at the sea all the time

  • and you're a diver or whatever, and you counted on that stuff. But now everybody kind of knows

  • when the big high tides gonna be and they know what they have to do. We never used to

  • think like that here ever."

  • Other Effects Flooding and inundation don't just destroy

  • what's been created on the atollit also destroys the atoll's ability to create.

  • The water is coming up on the ground too and also contaminating our well waters and

  • affecting our food crops.” “The breadfruit trees that we used to depend

  • on to build our canoes and provide food are dying because the the water levels, and these

  • island getting small and small. And, you know, they cannot survive the the saltwater, you

  • know.” And apart from killing what grows on the atoll,

  • climate change is killing the atoll itself, as the coral that comprises Majuro dies due

  • to rising sea temperatures. “We go out fishing for spear fishing, and

  • the corals that provide for us is turning from colorful to whitish. It's it's just bleaching

  • like crazy and different type of algaes are growing, weeds growing, importune beautiful

  • corals and scare away or all the food, all the fish that we, our life depend on.”

  • But the most pressing effect of climate change is also perhaps the most unexpected: it's

  • not inundation, not submergence, not coral bleaching, not erosion. The most pressing

  • effect of climate change, the thing that is hurting Marshallese most right now, is disease.

  • So currently the most urgent effects are illnesses. So climate related illnesses like

  • dengue, mosquito borne illnesses are supposed to increase with, you know, climate effects.”

  • So we've had we have three different health issues we're dealing with right now on the

  • Marshall Islands. The first, of course, is dengue fever that's been going on for about

  • eight months now. We've been in a state of health emergency. The second one is we've

  • had over twenty five cases, twenty five hundred cases of Dengue since last July. And so that's

  • been our major battle. We're fighting right here now. And then secondly, we've had measles,

  • which we haven't had a case yet before. We've put in all kinds of preventative measures.

  • And of course, coronavirus in the same category. We're just trying to prevent it. We haven't

  • had any yet, but we're being very strict with how people come in.”

  • Actually, the way I feel is that most of what we're seeing right now is climate change

  • a result of climate change.” With rising temperatures come more mosquitos,

  • increasing the risk of transmission for insect-borne diseases like Zika and Dengue. More severe

  • water cyclesflooding, high rainfalls, droughtall propagate contaminated water supplies, increasing

  • the spread of cholera, e. coli, and other diarrheal diseases. In fact, for almost every

  • infectious disease out theremalaria, ebola, lyme, west nile, typhoidresearch predicts

  • that climate change will make it worse. According to the World Health Organization, over the

  • next 20 years, over 2 million people will die as the result of climate change-related

  • disease. “This is, like, not normal. This is not

  • nothing that we've ever experienced before. We're in the eighth month of a state of health

  • emergency. The Marshall Islands has never been in a state of health emergency this long.

  • Ever. We've never seen a bigger disease outbreak. We've never seen all these deaths throughout

  • the Pacific in recent times from things like measles that we thought were gone. So I think

  • the really important thing that people have to understand is this is not the way things

  • used to be. But this is the way it's becoming now normal. And that to me is as a result

  • of the massive climate change and the massive warming that's been going on.”

  • You have to start talking about health when you and connecting it to climate change,

  • cause there's no other explanation for this. There really isn't.”

  • When you combine it allinundation, land loss, crop death, coral bleaching, drought,

  • disease—a single, clear picture forms: “These are all becoming a potent package

  • which are linked to the adverse effects of climate change. And that potency is a bit

  • too much or beyond the capability of small atoll nations to respond to. And so all of

  • these packaged potent adverse effects are proving to be catastrophic.”

  • The future that the Marshall Islands fought so hard to prevent is already coming to pass.

  • The islands are dying, and soon, they'll be truly, permanently, and irreversibly uninhabitable.

  • Two options have emerged: stay and fight a losing battle, or leave and start a new life.

  • In truth, though, those options are the same. The only variable is time.

  • Thousands of miles away, far from the fury of the ocean, a new atoll is emergingone

  • encircled not by sea, but by streets. A land made not of coral, but of concrete. One where

  • abundance is measured not by the size of your family, but rather the sum of your money.

  • One dotted not by palm trees, but by poultry plants.

  • Hope is not plentiful for the Marshallese, but there's a spark of it here, nestled

  • in the northwestern corner of Arkansas.

  • Springdale is, I would describe it as more of a blue collar working class community in

  • the midst of a thriving area of northwest Arkansasone of the top five fastest growing

  • areas in the country.” “We are a very diverse city. We've got 44 languages spoken

  • in our school district. We've got we're probably... our two largest minorities would be Latino,

  • which is probably somewhere around 35 to 40 percent--could be a little higher, we'll find

  • out in the 2020 census--and and a large Marshallese population, we've been told, the largest Marshallese

  • population outside of the Marshall Islands.” Exact figures vary. 2010 Census numbers peg

  • it in the low thousands, but that figure is almost certainly inaccurate. In reality, currently,

  • it is believed that as many as 15,000 Marshallese live in the Springdale area—1/5 of all Marshallese

  • people, tucked away in this small Ozark city. Of course, in a country of countless options,

  • the question to some might be: why Springdale, Arkansas?

  • The story, as it's told, begins in 1979. A Marshallese man named John Moody was awarded

  • a scholarship to the University of Oklahoma—a dream coming from a nation yet to have a single

  • college. Moody soon decided, though, that he wasn't cut out for the academic life.

  • He shifted paths, taking a job at a poultry plant in Muskogee, Oklahoma, earning $3.25

  • an hourmultiples more than any comparable job in the Marshalls.

  • Soon, though, the business took him to the largest poultry processor in the world, Tyson

  • Foods, headquartered in Springdale, Arkansas. Pay was decent, openings were plentiful, and

  • English was optional, so word soon travelled from Moody to his family in the Marshalls

  • that Springdale was the land of opportunity. So they came and spread the word to others,

  • and they came, and spread the word, and more came, and spread the word, and soon enough,

  • as the social networks of a small nation saturated with the promise of a better life, Springdale

  • established itself as the destination for Marshallese emigration to the US.

  • Now, decades on, what started as one man in a chicken plant has turned into the largest

  • population of Marshallese outside of the islands themselves. The city has 30 odd Marshallese

  • churches, has become a key campaign stop for Marshallese politicians, and it's even home

  • to a tiny consulate representing the Marshallese government itself. The mission is one of just

  • eight the Marshalls have abroad. Sharing a modest two-story building with a barber, accountant,

  • and lawyer, it is the only consulate of any nation for hundreds of miles and one of only

  • two in the state of Arkansas. It's staffed just by an assistant, the consul's wife,

  • and the consul-general himself. “My name is the Eldon Alik. I'm the consul-general

  • for the Republic of the Marshall Islands here in Springdale, Arkansas.” “The job of

  • the consulate is to, number one, provide consular service to the Marshallese citizens here and

  • assist the Marshallese population here with whatever they need…” “…and try to

  • be the eyes and ears of the government of the Marshall Islands here."

  • Call it luck or call it intuition, but Moody and the thousands that followed were right

  • to choose Springdale as their new homes. This city has been experiencing a decades-long

  • economic boom. “We have an entrepreneurial spirit here

  • in in northwest Arkansas, not only Springdale, but we've seen many Fortune 100 companiesWal-Mart,

  • of course, about 30 miles north. We've got Tyson right here in Springdale, which is the

  • first or second largest protein producer in the world, and they're they're headquartered

  • here in Springdale. We have we have a because of our growth. Certainly the building industry

  • that we're building trades, there's a lot going on here that, you know, our unemployment

  • right now is just barely over 2 percent in Springdale.”

  • Pretty much anyone who wants one, no matter their age, origin, or education-level, can

  • get a job in Springdale. “Well, Marshallese, we generally like to

  • follow one another. We come here to be near our families and the poultry industry doesn't

  • really take a lot of skills and education. People just come in and they can work. They're

  • going to arrive today and work tomorrow.” Under the Compact of Free Association, any

  • Marshallese citizen can live and work in the US—a right others, at best, wait years or

  • decades to attain. But there are still barriers. Perhaps the most significant is the firstgetting

  • there. A one-way plane ticket from Majuro to Springdale costs about $1,500—a substantial

  • sum for anyone, but a fortune in the Marshall Islands. There, $1,500 is half a year's

  • wage. In Springdale, though, it's less than a month's.

  • Some families, they come here little by little. Sometimes they just send the father

  • first and then the mother and then the kids and then the parents, grandparents. So they

  • just do a little by little.” Each earns enough to pay for the nextover

  • time, bringing the entire family to Springdale. “So we did a study and the majority of the

  • people that actually took this study replied that family responsibility was the first reason

  • why they moved. You know, and usually their departure from the islands are very, very

  • unplanned. That's because, you know, a sister would call in and say, hey, I have some money,

  • I have some money to buy you a ticket. Get ready. You're going to be on the plane in

  • the next two weeks so you can come and help me with my mom or, you know, with someone

  • so I can find a job and while you take care of the family member, you know, I have a way

  • to to bring income into the house.” Despite their political, economic, and social

  • connections, though, the Marshall Islands and the United States are not the same, and

  • the adjustment is not always easy. “There is so many cultural barriers that

  • there are that we see on a daily basis. One is Marshallese culture is a very sharing culture.

  • You know, one property is owned by everyone. It is not individual ownership of their property,

  • but, you know, everyone in that clan owns it. So that's, and when you look in terms

  • of households it is perfectly okay for for multiple family members to live under one

  • roof. Whereas, you know, here, you know, you have those, they enforce code where it's prohibited.”

  • You know, I don't know what the codes and ordinances in the Marshall Islands look like

  • but I can I can be pretty confident they're quite a bit different than ours here in Springdale,

  • Arkansas.” “We came from we came from a world that

  • money really didn't mean anything for us, but here it is. People in the United States,

  • you know, they're very they're economically driven, but we're not.” “We never had

  • to pay rent. We never had to worry about having a lot of money so we can buy food because,

  • you know, you have our biggest refrigerator was the ocean and it was right there and readily

  • available. So we really didn't have to worry about saving.” “You're comparing a very

  • small world to a big world.” Nonetheless, in making the difficult transition

  • to America, having a familiar community makes it easier.

  • You're surrounded by over thirty five churches. That's amazing. And you have a consul-general's

  • office here. You have our office as well. You have other nonprofit offices as well.

  • And the people are very supportive in this area, very supportive of the Marshallese community.

  • It kind of like gives you that value in preserving your culture and I think that's why I refer

  • Springdale to as Springdale atoll, because this is really the culture. This is the hub

  • of the culture.” Popular media might predict that the story

  • of a group of people, from a far off land, descending on and settling a small southern

  • city would end in tension and animosity. That is not the story of Springdale.

  • You know, I wish I knew what the secret sauce was for that, because I think we could

  • use that in a lot of places throughout our country--this openness and willingness to

  • accept change--and I don't want to candy coat it. You know, there are other people who grew

  • up here just like me that continue to talk about the good old days and the days, you

  • know, when we grew up and things were different. But, you know, I'm just reminded that we're

  • somebody's good old days right now. The people growing up here right now look back will look

  • back on this time as the good old days, no matter what it looks like. And so I think

  • I think a willingness on the part of the people of Springdale to to treat people as human

  • beings, surely, surely there's nothing special about Springdale. Surely everyone every place

  • can do that.” Springdale, as it exists for the Marshallese,

  • is fortuitousfortuitous because John Moody and the early migrants who followed had no

  • idea of their islands' bleak fate. They migrated for a brighter economic future, but

  • now, with the direct threat of a rising ocean, Marshallese are starting to migrate to escape

  • the water. “I think some some people have moved because

  • of sea level rise, and that wasn't the case, maybe, five, ten years ago. People were coming

  • here for better opportunities but I've talked to some people and they've come here for sea-level

  • rise.” “Plan A is staying and live there and fight

  • the climate change. But if plan A doesn't work, you know, this is where I feel the calling.

  • This is where I need to be at, but it really if that happens, that's wow, that that's

  • taking away our identity. You know, that's that's basically stripping us down to the

  • bare skin, and I'm not sure how I'm going to take that. That will be very hard for me

  • to to process. However, I feel that I can't just cry and feel sad because that happened.

  • I have to do something. I have to make reestablished. I feel like reestablishing somewhere else

  • that is safe, that, you know, that provide to the freedom, the freedom to make a choice

  • is probably my next thing that I will focus on.”

  • Plan A is still very much in motion for many. Most Marshallese are still at their home,

  • fighting to hold onto their lives as long as the waters will allow them. Those who can

  • buy a few additional years by building a wall between them and the ocean.

  • Well we call this a concrete wall. So, first we build the concrete base about five

  • to six feet wide and two feet from the ground. So it goes down, to the bottom, one foot,

  • and then one foot up. So the base is five to six feet wide and the wall, here, is one

  • foot wide, and this wall here, maybe nine or ten feet long from the ground.”

  • Well, when the high tide king tides comes, it destroys the whole village. The water coming

  • to the, comes to the road, and after I build wall there, people there, they're living happy.

  • I see that the seawall has been protecting them but there's other people, the same village,

  • there are other people live on the other side. You know, about two to house from the outside

  • of the seawall. Now they're affecting because there's no wall there.”

  • If the wall wasn't here, if there was no wall here, I know that all the water, the

  • trash, the rocks, they would be coming right here and going, one, two, how many houses

  • there? Yeah, and it's been happening over and over. Every king tide that comes it, it's

  • always like that. They're bringing rocks and trash.”

  • Oh, no. Don't—trust me. Believe me. Even though we're making wall, it's not gonna

  • protect because we're, we're damaging the reef and as long as you drill the reef and

  • building concrete wall, you're messing with Mother Nature, you know.”

  • At this point, the goal is not to prevent the destruction of the Marshallsjust to

  • delay it. “If the time limit is in five years, then,

  • you know, it's we move in five years. But between now and five years, we want to make

  • sure that we spend every minute thinking about how to survive on these islands, just like

  • our ancestors did.”

  • Land is supposed to be the embodiment of permanence—a nation is nothing without its landbut now,

  • the Marshall Islands is temporary. In the back of everyone's mind is the realization

  • that the soil they stand on will eventually be submerged.

  • You know, with our infrastructure projects. You know, what are we doing? Why are we doing

  • this? You know, 20, 30, 40 years could be swamped under water. I don't know. It's like,

  • you know, part of the work you do is try to prepare for the, you know, the future of submerging.

  • And then part of it is you just carry on with your day to day activities, which means you

  • know, look. These projects are still funded. They're on the books. They're approved. We

  • still got do them now. When is that going to change? I don't know. I don't know. It's

  • going to take some kind of visible tipping point somewhere. And I think for that to happen,

  • I mean, really mean significant, not just the high king tide. You know, we've had those

  • or another El Nino again. We've had those things going to take something else maybe.

  • Unfortunately, may be worse for us, too. I don't know. Then get to the realization, well,

  • this is it. Gotta stop this avenue of activity and divert the energies into some other kind

  • of future.” “Well, when you think when people say to

  • me that they think the Marshall Islands has a time limit, I think they have to start thinking

  • about the bigger picture here. We're the canary in the coal mine. If we have a limited time

  • here, then so does everywhere else. I mean, this is the way this is the way it's evolving

  • and so many times we've been the canary out there. We were the canary in the coal mine

  • for nuclear testing. Now we're the canary in the coal mine for climate change.”

  • The ocean that gives us the resources crawling closer and closer to our living rooms. We're

  • ocean people and the reason why this our ocean is mad and it is crawling closer to our lagoon

  • living room is because the same people that brought in the nuclear testing to the country

  • are the same people that are doing this. They're trying to find resource. First they try to

  • find the power to control the world by using our islands to test a nuclear weapon. Then

  • they went back and tried to find the best way to gain resources in a short period of

  • time by using things that would destroy the world and we're allMother Nature is not

  • happy, so she's coming back to us. But in a very roaring way.”

  • We as Marshallese people enter the conversation of climate change, as survivors of the nuclear

  • legacy, as in we already understand what it means to have lost homes, to have lost that

  • connection to land to have something ripped away, ripped away from us for globe because

  • of global needs. And, you know, because of a global concern or whatever. Right. The US

  • decided to test nuclear weapons in the Marshall Islands because we were seen as disposable.

  • And now with climate change happening, more or less, unless, people care about it. You

  • know, there are very few people who care about it. And the ones in power don't care about

  • it because, again, we're seen as disposable. That's the intersection between climate change

  • and the nuclear legacy. You know, we've experienced that already. And that's why we're fighting

  • even harder against climate change. We don't want to lose the rest of our islands. We've

  • already experienced that loss and that trauma.”

  • We are going to be the first climate change refugees. I truly believe that.”

  • That's happening and people are in denial of it because they're responsible for it.”

  • This is my country. This is where I live. This is where my kids go to school. I'm from

  • [unknown], but I'm from here, too. My family grew up here, too.”

  • This is where I. I want them to all be. And this is the society I want them to contribute

  • to. I think it's you know, it's a tough concept to think about. It's like thinking if you

  • have children thinking about them being in a car accident or getting a terminal illness,

  • you don't want to think about it because it's so painful and it's the same way.”

  • “I don't know the culture [in America]. I don't know the way of life. I want to I

  • want to stay here in my own culture and live in my own culture.”

  • You know, we love our culture, we love our custom, and we love the way of life that

  • we have here. If we do leave and go somewhere else, we'll probably lose our custom, we will

  • probably lose our ability to look after ourselves as a people.”

  • Right now, it's still a debate in many of these first world nations. What do we do?

  • Can we do it? What are the changes we can make? Do we believe in it? Is it even real?

  • Is it worth the funding? Can we change? That's not where we're at. Where we're at is very

  • much: it's going to happen. We have to figure out how to plan for it.”

  • We probably will be looking back on our country from higher ground.”

  • This is going to be wow, this is going to be something that I just can't describe

  • in terms of, you know, culturally as a people, civilization, what this is going to mean for

  • the kids and grandkids.”

  • Well, to be honest, I'm worried about my generation and the next generation and the

  • future. Because, you know, when when we migrate, the main the main thing I'm scared of i our

  • culture. If everyone leaves here, where will our culture go? And our culture will slowly

  • fade when no one knows about our culture or people. And especially Marshall Islands.”

  • Yeah, it hits me every time. But like I I really try to ignore it, but it I can't

  • because it's always trending and so is getting talked about. And we really can't put it aside

  • because we're really affected now. And if we can do anything now, the future will be

  • affected. If we don't do anything now.” “Personally, I mean, I really don't want

  • to go to other countries. I really want to stay here and live the best life in the islands

  • and really share of life full of joy and right here, right here in the Marshall Islands.”

  • This this island really means a lot and just imagine if different countries, if we

  • told them that their country doesn't matter and they can just move here and they would

  • feel the same with it. It feels special for us to have this place because it's unique

  • and our culture really lies here.”

  • People can move. A nation cannot. And though they'll try, any transposition loses fidelity.

  • With each generation, the pictures fuzzythe memories fade. The Marshall Islands has endured

  • for millennia, but it was never immortal. Nations have ended before. Nations will end

  • again. Of all the ends the Marshall Islands could meet, though, this one stings most:

  • to be killed by the ocean, its creator, turned against it by people who don't even know

  • its name.

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The Final Years of Majuro [Documentary]

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    joey joey に公開 2021 年 06 月 11 日
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