I want to share some of the differences between the ways Marshall Islands is portrayed in academic literature and what I have expected here so far.
As a diligent PhD candidate, I reviewed as much literature as possible on Marshall Islands, particularly on climate change and migration before arriving. The scope of that literature is somewhat narrow and mostly focused on problems. While it is important focus on and analyze problems, and to recognize how vulnerable Marshall Islands is to climate change, it’s also important to highlight the strength and beauty of this nation. Maybe you have to come here to appreciate it, but this is a truly wonderful, unique place that is so much more than just vulnerable to climate change.
I want to preface this with a disclaimer that I have not formally started my research and do not have any extensive understanding or experience in the local context. I’m writing this based mostly on anecdotal observations and informal conversations over a relatively short period of time exclusively in Majuro. I certainly do not have the full picture of life in Marshall Islands. Surely with time, experience, and your feedback, my perspectives will change.
Nevertheless, I think the view of from the Ivory Tower is very different from the view on the ground and I want to contribute to a more complex and nuanced discussion. In particular, I urgently want to challenge the largely homogeneous representation of Marshallese people and their experiences within academic literature and the overemphasis on vulnerability and problems in the community. Within Marshallese culture and any culture, there are probably as many experiences, desires, and opinions as people. Yet there are elements of culture that shape communities and bind people together. People also speak back to their culture and reshape and reinvent it. So I think as academics, we have to tow the line very carefully between being too individualistic and dismissive of culture and essentializing culture and homogenizing groups of people. I think in academia, we too often focus on trends or patterns in search of universal truths. I aspire toward the opposite; to focus people as individuals in all of their contexts and within a culture that is profoundly significant to how we perceive the world and act within it, but also a culture that each of us adapt and co-create.
I’ve been struck by how happy people here seem and to what extent that is reflective of Marshallese culture. I’m planning another blog unpacking some preconceptions happiness and wellbeing in Marshall Islands, but for now, I only mention it to offset the preconception that some may have, based on the available academic literature, that Marshallese people are fully or wholly defined by the immense challenges they face. Marshall Islands is neither a dystopia nor is it a utopia despite the lure of putting things so dramatically.
I am sure there are some people, maybe especially in the government, who are more constantly preoccupied with the existential threats in the region—not just climate change, but nuclear contamination, health issues, development challenges, and more. There are also probably some people on the opposite extreme who rarely or never think about those concerns or who are not even aware of them. My guess would be that if we think of those as two extremes within a spectrum, the majority of people would be somewhere in-between.
The view of Marshall Islands conveyed through literature, as vulnerable, overwhelmed with problems, and generally dire, isn’t likely the fault of any single researcher or research group. One article can’t cover everything and most of what I’ve read well addresses an important topic. I think the problem is in the synthesis of the work. There simply need to be more articles to add perspectives to the body of literature because most of what’s being published, and especially what is making the news is all doom and gloom.
Academic publishing often demands a sacrifice of breadth on a topic for depth. That’s not always a bad thing, though. People often want and need concise and focused results rather than a 300 page manuscript exploring all of the nuance and context. So, we have to be diligent, as readers, in seeking out more information and remaining cognizant that a single journal article almost never paints a complete picture, it’s more likely one very narrow and limited look at something. We need critical readers and critical authors—but as Freire reminded us, reading isn’t a passive activity.
There has to be a shared responsibility between the author and the reader to develop a balanced understanding within broader context. Some excellent public health articles well articulate how contemporary issues are rooted in colonial history and nuclear testing in the region. Since academics are often pushed toward decontextualized and apolitical approaches, such critical work is very important and commendable. However, such work still perpetuates a somewhat homogeneous and problem focused view of Marshall Islands that doesn’t match what I’ve seen so far in everyday life here.
In doing my own due diligence by reviewing literature and seeking balance and nuance, I noticed a dearth in the literature on Marshall Islands that explores or highlights things like positive wellbeing, happiness, resilience, strength, assets, opportunities, beauty, and all of the things that make this a place worth fighting for. Very few studies have significantly included Marshallese people’s own voices, their stories, their need, their aspirations. Almost no articles highlighted all of the great organizations and important work within the community. In fact, when I wanted to include some focus on strengths and assets in the community to offset an overwhelming focus on problems, I mostly had to go to the grey literature (e.g., news articles, reports and documents shared on the websites of local agencies and government, social media posts, etc.) and even so, I found out so much more from talking with people and spending time in the community. I think social scientists, and especially positive psychologists might add to the literature by highlighting positive aspects of people’s lives and experiences. I’d highly recommend checking out longer format publications (theses and books) from Peter Rudiak-Gould and Alexander Hirata as both take deeper dives than a typical journal article would allow. Hopefully in the not-too-distant future, I’ll also have some more to share, too.
Sometimes people critique positive psychology for ignoring problems and therefore detracting from efforts to raise awareness and make change. As if highlighting how people are or can be happy despite adversity somehow validates or justifies their adversity. No, we are human beings, we are complex and nuanced, and positive and negative emotional states are mostly independent of one another. For example, someone can be burdened with the existential threat of climate change, and still go out with friends and feel happy. Someone else might find a sense of meaning and purpose through their work combating climate change. People have the capacity to understand that sort of nuance, because we all experience it, we all have positive and negative emotions every day. Sometimes we can laugh when we’re sad or cry when we’re happy. For that matter happiness is not as simple or as one-dimensional as it is often understood to be and might even be unique among individuals. In positive psychology, we try to understand the collection of experiences and emotions that make up a fulfilling life. As such I prefer the term wellbeing as a multidimensional concept including both objective circumstances (e.g., physical health and material conditions) and things like living a meaningful life, having fulfilling social relationships, as well as experiencing positive emotions. It does no good to represent Marshallese people as fully or wholly defined by climate change, colonial history, health issues, nuclear radiation, or any other challenges they face. In fact, what makes me love this place so much is how people know all those threats are lingering and still seem committed to being happy and kind and enjoying life.
I think people studying Marshall Islands from afar need to know what a beautiful special place it is and how wonderful the people are. At risk of contributing to the homogeneous view that I aim to disrupt, I will say this: Every single Marshallese person I’ve interacted with has been kind to me, many have been exceptionally friendly and welcoming, and some very quiet, but not a single person has been mean or rude, even when I fumble through cultural norms and communication challenges. Obviously, according to my identities (white, man, American, etc.) my experience is different and I have only interacted with a very small subset of the community, but still I do think there is a cultural emphasis on kindness. In addition to the fact that people seem genuinely happy (we’ll unpack the notion of happiness soon) it culminates in an overall very pleasant experience. Everywhere I go, I see people chilling out in the shade, smiling and laughing, kids playing, people just enjoying life. Also, maybe because I’m a foreigner, whenever I walk around people say hello, introduce themselves, ask about what I’m doing here; I never have that invisible, anonymous, disconnected feeling I have (and sometimes enjoy) walking around a big North American city.
Even as a fairly critical reader and avid literature reviewer, I’ve been surprised by how much life here differs from the preconceptions I’d formed (often without even realizing I’d formed them). That is exactly why I wanted to spend time here and ease into my research very slowly and why I don’t quite feel ready to finalize the design of the study yet. However, as mentioned in my last post, it can be a bit of a chicken-and-the-egg debate because I am trying to be as informed as possible before continuing with a study meant to develop a better understanding understanding. If I could be fully informed on my project, the project might become redundant.
Many of my preconceptions, particularly about people’s experiences and wellbeing, are somewhat intangible. It’s hard to nail down exactly what I thought it would be like here. I was pleasantly surprised by how happy and friendly people are, but it’s not as if I expected everyone to be down-and-out or rude.
There is a single statistic that I think hugely shapes the way international researchers view Marshall Islands. I assume it’s empirically true, but it leads people to think of Marshall Islands in a way that’s not true to life here. Almost every article, whether it’s for an academic journal or a news story, cites that about a third of the nation has migrated, more than 20,000 of a nation of about 50,000 live abroad, mostly in United States. It’s a statistic I have cited in all of my proposals and grant applications, too. However, this place doesn’t feel desolate or abandoned. It doesn’t feel hopeless. Even if the numbers are empirically true, they implicitly lead one’s interpretation toward an incomplete understanding of a country amidst some sort of mass exodus. The Marshallese census also shows that while the nation’s population growth rate is slowing, the population is still increasing. I don’t think anyone would visit here and think it looks like a place that’s being abandoned and it doesn’t seem like people who live here view it that way. At least in Majuro, there are lots of new construction projects, more traffic than you’d expect, and overall a pretty bustling atmosphere much more like a small city than the quiet island villages some might expect—I am sure it’s different on the outer islands, though.
Maybe the statistic that a third of the country have left also does not account for people leaving and coming back. Again, I want to emphasize that I’m writing this based on purely anecdotal observations, but I’ve talked with lots of people who have spent extended periods of time in United States or who grew up there but live in Marshall Islands now. I’ve also had the privilege of meeting a Marshallese-American student who grew up in United States but is eager to earn his degree and move to Marshall Islands to use his skills and knowledge to help the community. So, while I wouldn’t go so far as to question the accuracy of the assertion that more than 20,000 Marshallese people are currently living in United States, my impression is that it’s not always a one-way trip. Maybe at any given moment 20,000 Marshallese people are living in the United States, but a simple question is overlooked: How many of those 20,000 intend to return to Marshall Islands. I’ve said it before, but I feel it’s important to reiterate, that I don’t think it’s my business to suggest whether people should stay or go, or go and return, I just feel that this sort of mass exodus imagery is inaccurate. That’s also not to say that it’s impossible that the worst-case scenario when the country becomes uninhabitable is entirely impossible. Especially toward informing policy, I think the contingency of those sorts of mass exodus do need to be planned for.
Additionally, international researchers have only focused (to my knowledge) on external migration, despite a well established understanding (among climate change and migration researchers) that people are much more likely to migrate internally (within their country) than externally (to another country) as a result of climate change. Internal migration, most often from rural outer islands to the urban centers (Maruro and Ebeye) is likely of equal or greater interest t for the nation’s future. Particularly in long-term climate change adaptation plans, issues such as land tenure for internal migrants will be critical.
In contrast to some other Pacific Islands, the Marshall Islands is only considering regional adaptation and mitigation strategies and is not pursuing any sort of national relocation plan. One possibility being considered is an internal relocation plan where Majuro might be elevated and some outer islands abandoned. Although this is currently just one possibility being considered, a solid understanding of how and why people migrate from the outer islands to urban centers, what their need are, and how they’re doing might help inform the national adaptation strategy.
So, uh, maybe I need to buy a new website on account of the lack of exodus but resilience.com is probably taken. Maybe also I have yet more to learn about the people who have left permanently and why. I really hope one day I can spend some time in the Marshallese diaspora communities in United States to better understand their perspectives and experiences and to meet people here in Majuro who might be considering moving to the US. But all in time. I’m really loving having the opportunity to take things slow and reflect and talk with people. One cool thing about living in such a small country is that it feels like you bump into everyone so I’ve been getting a lot of insight from all sorts of people in the community.