As climate change increasingly wreaks havoc on our planet, the concept of a climate safe harbor sounds enticing—a refuge where people can comfortably camp as sea levels rise and extreme weather strikes less fortunate areas. But the reality is not so simple. In this excerpt from “North: the future of post-climate America(Oxford University Press, 2025), Jesse M. Keenanassistant professor of real estate at the Tulane School of Architecture, looks at how climate-induced migration poses multifaceted challenges—both for “climate migrants” and for those already living in “safe havens.”
The article claims that reception areas will be determined by “areas to the north” that may also have “energy production sources.” [that] stable, [with] a cooler climate and… access to plenty of fresh water.”
This article will further spark the imagination of journalists, researchers, policy makers and the general public from around the world. Broad ideas of climate fitness and infrastructure will be reframed in the media as “climate shelters.” While “interest migration” research has long sought to understand the pull factors of migration, this body of research supports “a long-standing debate about the relative influences of environmental and economic factors.” [that] turned out to be ineffective.”
In the context of climate change, much of the research has focused on climate impacts as a disaster that pushes people away, rather than on lower levels of comparative risk being an advantage that attracts people. the study showed that “both catastrophic wildfires and extreme heat in the previous year were associated with a reduction [in-]migration”.
A survey more than 1,110 Californians found after the 2020 wildfire season that “about a third [the] sample intended to move in the next 5 years, nearly a quarter reported that wildfires and smoke influenced their migration decision to at least a moderate extent. Previous negative experiences (e.g., evacuation, loss of property) were associated with intentions to migrate.”
At best, one might conclude that disadvantages associated with climate risks push people toward lower-risk locations, but the complexity of the interaction of various positive amenities in reception areas related to everything from labor market participation to lifestyle fit remains largely unexplored in the United States. Climate scientist Alex de Sherbinbin and colleagues suggested that “environmental amenities and risks may be among the factors influencing aspirations and opportunities, but in this context they cannot be said to 'drive' migration.”
In this sense, climate change may simply encourage migration or relocation of people who were already predisposed to such actions. Other researchers say it may simply come down to money. They argue that the tipping point for emigration is the economic damage from extreme events: for every “$1,000”[s of] damage per capita [there] is [an] connected. . . increase in emigration” from 9% to 16%.
The influence of climate as a push factor may be the focus, but the pull factors are not well understood. The lack of theoretical and empirical clarity about the role of amenities in attracting people to reception areas has not stopped scientists and journalists from engaging in public discourse about what kinds of places can be climate refuges and what climate refuges should look like. For journalists, this motivation falls somewhere between creating “Best Places to Move” clickbait and legitimately thinking about an issue that seems crystal clear in light of the lived experiences of the people and places that shape their pace.
Many people recognize that climate change is already affecting where and how people live. In recent years, a group of urban planners and designers known as the PLACE Initiative has come together to identify a range of potential host areas based on a combination of factors ranging from climate risk to the quality of urban form. While the PLACE Initiative's data and methods are unverified and may not be scientific, their work highlights a valuable starting point based on the professional judgment of those on the front lines.
As host zones have taken center stage, cities like Milwaukee and Buffalo have actively positioned themselves as climate havens. Buffalo has a great slogan: “How Buffalo weather goes from a highlight to a lifeline.” Marketing may even be working.
Buffalo was the hottest housing market in America from 2023 to 2025, according to Zillow. These marketing efforts build on longstanding local policies to formalize efforts to welcome immigrants—and by extension, migrants—to the Midwest as a means of spurring economic development.
Commentators have raised both substantive and unfounded concerns that highlight the promise and danger of the climate shelter concept. They argue that nowhere is safe and that no place can escape the effects of the climate. This is very true. Flooding in Asheville, North Carolina Hurricane Helen in 2024 highlighted that even widely recognized receiving zones remain vulnerable to extreme events.
Unfortunately, the history of post-disaster reconstruction in America suggests that in a place like Asheville, floods are likely to catalyze a post-development landscape that is spatially concentrated, built to higher performance standards, and less accessible. It is likely that reconstruction after Hurricane Helen will be aimed at both displacing people and attracting higher-income opportunists. After all, any receiving area is vulnerable to extreme events. There is no escape from the planetary crisis.
Other commentators argue that the focus on climate shelters ignores the plight of those left behind in dispatch zones. Some have even gone so far as to revive the long-rejected binary of adaptation and mitigation, asking whether cities should prepare for climate migrants or reduce carbon emissions. They argue that labeling some places as sanctuaries is misleading to potential climate migrants and that it is definitely not a sanctuary for existing residents who are either currently cost-burdened and underserved or may be displaced by climate gentrification in the future.
Some members of the tribal community even view climate migration as a kind of double colonization. Some of these criticisms are entirely fair. Other criticisms are based on unfounded zero-sum rhetoric. First, cities can plan to combat climate change while reducing carbon emissions. Investments in adaptation and mitigation can and should be made in dialogue with each other. Any investment in risk and carbon management that benefits today's population will also benefit tomorrow's population if done correctly.
For example, investments in zoning and transit-oriented housing (TOD) will reduce today's emissions from transit, but they will also provide the foundation for future emissions reductions by improving the efficiency, affordability, and sustainability of dense mixed-income housing.
Mixed-income housing with lower transportation and energy costs will be key to supporting a diverse group of local residents and climate migrants. Second, while no place can escape climate impacts, what is certain is that impacts are unevenly distributed and concentrated in ways that determine people's exposure and vulnerability. Yes, Vermont and upstate New York experience extreme precipitation and the risk of wildfires, but that's a relative picnic compared to what the southwest and southeast face.
Likewise, ideologically driven politics, anti-science belief systems, and a widespread lack of institutional capacity in the Sun Belt exacerbate these costs and vulnerabilities.
It cannot be denied that some places and people are comparatively better off. While many residents of the Northeast and Rust Belt face a legacy of economic exclusion, environmental injustice, generations of underinvestment, regional wildfires and droughts, and even dreaded tick-borne diseases, they do not face the same existential convergence of risks that other regions face.
Florida's future will undoubtedly be determined by rising sea levels, wildfires, groundwater salinity, toxic and fecal contamination of drinking water systems, mega hurricanes, stationary tropical systems, floods of all types, extreme heat, and dengue and cholera outbreaks that are almost unimaginable.
As one commentator from Buffalo put it: BBC“We are not an oasis. We suck less.” There's definitely some truth to that statement, but it doesn't mean much to the thousands of Puerto Rican migrants who moved to Buffalo after the devastating 2017 hurricane season.
Excerpt from North: the future of post-climate America Jesse M. Keenan. Copyright 2025. Published with permission of the author.
