As the rest of the country watches L.A. burn with horrified, rapt attention, it is with a mix of compassion and heartbreak, and more than just a tinge of foreboding. This is, after all, exactly what we’ve been told would happen as a result of our changing climate. We just didn’t expect it to happen so soon. Or perhaps, if we’re completely honest, to happen at all.
The science is clear, however. A massive climate-driven diaspora is coming to the United States. Coastal regions will be reconfigured – and our settlement patterns along with them – due to sea level rise, and in a number of coastal regions, more frequent and intense hurricanes. Of course, as Helene demonstrated with ferocious clarity late last year, these storms’ destructive powers aren’t confined to our coasts – inland communities can be just as vulnerable, if not more so. The southwest, already experiencing record heat in summer months, will be rendered less and less habitable by increasing temperatures. And then there are the fires, a serious problem not just in California, but to varying degrees, for all of the western states.
And, not to put too fine a point on it, but we’re not dealing with an “or” situation here. As in hurricanes or fires or heat. The Venn Diagram of climate impacts overlaps significantly for many U.S. communities. Projected to experience high temperatures and high humidity (a not just uncomfortable, but potentially deadly combination), sea level rise, negative agricultural impacts, and severe overall economic decline, Beaufort County, SC, tops the list of U.S. locales at greatest risk from climate change. Just behind Beaufort, Pinal County, AZ, will be spared sea level rise impacts (for obvious reasons), but heat, fires, and reduced agricultural yields will take their toll. And the list goes on. From Florida, to Texas, to Louisiana, to California, and beyond, the list of soon-to-be undesirable, and eventually unlivable, U.S. communities stretches beyond my desire to scroll.
So it seems inevitable: whether we want to or not, a lot of Americans will be moving in the not too distant future.
(Here you may be thinking, “Aren’t you going to talk about preventing further climate change? Aren’t you going to consider that things might not get as bad as they say?” In a word: no. No, because in a country where the majority rally behind a cry of “Drill baby, drill,” and where Project 2025’s demands that the words “climate change” be stripped from Federal Agency websites and funding for disaster response and recovery stripped from the Federal budget clearly hold sway, I think we need to own the truth. We are in an unbridled sprint toward the worst case scenario, and pretending that we’re not is a childish illusion we cannot afford.)
Now let’s get back to it: a diaspora demands a destination, and a diaspora of the magnitude we’re expecting as a result of climate change will need a great many. So where will people go (or try to) as our climate grows steadily worse? The science here is clear as well: the “goldilocks zone” for human life is shifting north. Within our country, the great lakes region, Alaska, and areas like Vermont and parts of New England appear most hospitable. (And if we zoom out to a continental view, Canada, should international movement still be permissible when the worst climate impacts come to pass, looks good, too.)
Nowhere will be spared, of course. Our climate is, after all, global. But these places will be relatively more pleasant, and if things continue as they are, millions of us will soon be clamoring for a spot in Michigan’s Upper Peninsula, inland Maine or Alaska, or northern Wisconsin. But how will such a massive shift in population work? Setting aside the incredible physical infrastructural investments this population shift will necessitate, how will we manage the safe relocation of millions to land already owned and already governed by existing populations?
I don’t pretend to know all the answers to these questions (I doubt anyone does), but I think that some might be illuminated – perhaps surprisingly – by the teachings of a man who knew nothing of our current struggle.
Henry George lived more than a century ago, and (unknowingly) witnessed the dawn of climate change in the form of the industrial revolution. Seeing firsthand the increasing societal inequities of this much celebrated-era, George fought fiercely against the seemingly unavoidable coupling of Progress and Poverty. The key, George believed, was in recognizing all people’s common claim to the Earth’s resources and in embracing governance structures that prevent anyone from claiming more than their share to the detriment of others. These ideas have an evergreen appeal and, I believe, make particularly apt guideposts as we enter an era of collective relocation on a finite planet. In a forthcoming article I will explore some of what George’s ideas might tell us about how to navigate the coming climate-driven diaspora.
