Recently, a curious case appeared before New Zealand's High Court. The plaintiff, Ioane Teitiota, a resident of the island-nation of Kiribati, was seeking refugee status in New Zealand. His reasoning? Climate change and rising sea levels were making Kiribati uninhabitable. “There's no future for us when we go back to Kiribati,” Teitiota argued.
I used to live in Kiribati, a remote nation of 33 atolls in the equatorial Pacific scattered over an area nearly two-thirds as large as the continental United States. When I lived there, in the late 1990s, the island elders were beginning to notice a strange new phenomenon. The spring tides, or king tides as they are sometimes called, were beginning to breach the typical high-water mark on the beach, inundating homes, flooding pig pens and streaming over the causeways that linked the islets of South Tarawa, where most of the nation's 100,000 inhabitants resided.
In response, many families built sea walls made of coral, hoping to forestall the damage inflicted by the rising ocean. Surely, it was thought, these super tides were an anomaly.
For more than 1,000 years, these islanders had lived on their atolls, the slim crests of undersea volcanoes, not more than 200 yards wide and rarely rising more than a couple of feet above sea level, without feeling threatened by the ocean.
Not long ago, I visited Kiribati and was struck by the changes. Those sea walls, built with hope, now look like the grim remains of ancient fortresses destroyed long ago. The coconut trees near shore — the source of the nutritious toddy that children drink for breakfast and provider of the copra that Kiribati depends on for its meager income — stand like mute sentries, dead and useless as they succumb to the tide. The groundwater is now so brackish that gardens refuse to grow.
On some of its islands, such as Abaiang, villages have been swept away; all that remains are the thatched roofs of homes and meeting houses, cresting above the water. It isn't storms that are causing this ruination but rather the slow, steady rise of the tides that twice daily inundate the islands.