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On the edge of the largest mangrove forest in the world, home of the famous Royal Bengal Tiger, I met Krishna Rani.
The rhythm of the tides of the Bay of Bengal, the ebb and flow of the river, and the fertility of this great golden delta had nourished them for most of their peaceful lives. At first glance, your place of residence – on the bank of a river that dances in the glorious colors of the setting sun, in the cradle of the great Sundarbans – could be a tourist cottage.
But when I listen to their story, the splendor of the Unesco World Heritage Site and its tigers fades, leaving a tough and bitter story of negligence and the rule of the mighty over the helpless.
In the latter stages of her life, Krishna became confused by the turn of events. What was a promising youth, with a happy marriage, healthy children, and plenty of land around, has turned into a story of loneliness and scarcity in just a few years.
In 2009, the great cyclone Aila caused waves to crash over the shores of the south coast of Bangladesh, claiming human lives and rendering people homeless. Krishna and her husband had enjoyed prosperity and security in the large rice fields around their home. But after Aila the fertility of the land began to decline. It happened at a bad time. Her husband had just taken out exorbitant loans to marry off their daughters – two in quick succession. After the rains, he took out another loan to sow his next crop. The harvest was miserable.
Income continued to decline and the family never really recovered. Eventually they lost most of their land. Two of her sons moved on in search of a better life. Another stayed to support them as well as possible, occasionally working as a day laborer and living on the land they had left over.
There were other signs of change. The water in the tube fountain began to develop a salty note. Krishna’s husband had aged quickly. Being badly in debt was tough on him. He died a decade after Aila.
Krishna, who lived well all her life, had no way of dealing with poverty. Conditions continued to deteriorate. The water got worse and worse, the vegetables in her garden stopped growing, and fish were more and more difficult to find in the river. She got a stomach ache. She developed another strange condition that she had never known and that was too embarrassing to talk about. She would bleed if she had a bowel movement. She heard that others in the village were also suffering from this strange condition.
The year after her husband’s death, her home was damaged by another major cyclone, Amphan. There have been terrible storms almost every year lately. She lives in fear that the sea walls will collapse again.
The embankments are getting weaker. Sometimes there is no protection against the tides. Last year, the flood hit her home twice a day for several months. Now the embankments are paved, but a putrid water remains trapped in them, not far from their house. The same river that once brought security and happiness now keeps reminding her of her loss.
Krishna has never been to the city. Your air conditioning is the wind that filters through the mangroves. Your washing machine is a pond. There is no electricity in their kerosene-lit hut.
She doesn’t need electricity, a high-tech lifestyle or a washing machine, but she needs protection, help with adaptation and food security. They need access to clean drinking water. She needs to grow vegetables for a balanced diet.
Your suffering makes me think what’s your fault? What does she have to do with the enormous changes in her environment? What role has it played in the intensification of storms and salinisation of your soil?
It emitted zero carbon. But it pays a high CO2 tax. We are the ones responsible for their condition. The ones who are going to COP26.
I’m going to COP26 because on their behalf I really want to shout at the leaders of the world.
The Conference of the Parties has been dealing with the climate crisis for two and a half decades. The negotiations continue. Meaningful decisions are few and far between. And it seems that we have even given up trying to find a solution to the loss and damage. Although there are many resources on paper at the international and national level, the bureaucracy makes it difficult to access these resources. These funds should not follow commercial banking protocols, but they should follow a humanitarian protocol that should be easily accessible. Only 10 percent of climate funding goes to the people who really need it.
Meanwhile, Krishna continues to live in pain. It represents 13.3 million people from the coastal regions of Bangladesh who are at risk of being displaced from their homes by 2050 due to salinity, rising sea levels and other negative effects of climate change.
There is no legal platform on which she can assert her rights. And there is no one who takes their problems seriously.
Global funding commitments also remain uncertain. There are repeated appeals to keep the promises made by world leaders for countries in vulnerable circumstances. In 2009, the industrialized countries agreed to provide US $ 100 billion annually in climate finance for poorer countries through 2020; but the goal was not achieved – although it was nowhere near enough to address the urgency and scale of the crisis. In 2021, politicians and business leaders have again pledged more than 400 billion US dollars for the expansion of renewable and clean energies, announced the UN.
National and global governance must be refined to face this new crisis. National and international legal frameworks have to be checked regularly in order to react to emerging climate problems. Announcements at international climate conferences should be accessible to the general public.
Every seventh inhabitant of Bangladesh is at risk of displacement due to climate change by 2050. All of these people are traumatized. Policy makers and academics need to work together to identify which populations will be affected and to find solutions.
I want to say these things at COP. Let the political leaders continue their negotiations and dialogue. At the same time, all of us – individuals, nations, and corporations, whatever our might – must maximize our efforts to ensure that the suffering, loss, and harm of Krishna Rani are addressed. It should not be treated as a local problem, but as a global one.
There are now many customization solutions at the local level that need to be implemented effectively. The world can see and learn from these local solutions that have been inherited and refined over generations through indigenous knowledge and lived experiences. Local people and ecosystems could coexist for centuries. You need structured paternalism.
This world should not tolerate suffering when we know the reason for it. We should anticipate it and prevent it. Instead of statecraft and strategy, treaties and treaties, it should be humanitarian values ​​and commitments that should drive climate protection based on the capabilities of each nation. Climate protection goes beyond responsibility. It’s a commitment.
Kazi Amdadul Hoque is Senior Director of Strategic Planning and Head of Climate Action at Friendship, a social organization in Bangladesh.
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