Keywords

Introduction

The Global South has long been a focal point of research that examines the nexus between climate change and human mobility (Piguet et al., 2018; Wiegel et al., 2019).1 The dominant assumption often is that the Global South is most vulnerable to the impacts of climate change and subsequent implications for human mobility, given lower adaptative capacities, higher geographical vulnerabilities to climate change, and other socio-economic inequalities that are already feeding pressures to migrate. This assumption tends to be generalised for the whole of the Global South, resulting in often stereotypical and simplified understandings of local vulnerabilities and of the subject of climate mobility more generally informed by “the post-colonial imagination… [of the climate migrant]… as a poor peasant from the South” (Piguet et al., 2018, 359).

In the context of this critique, several studies have aimed to critically expose pre-assumptions held about the figure of the migrant, to overcome environmental deterministic accounts of mobility in the Global South, and to show how im/mobilities that are now impacted by climate change are shaped by local contexts or may have a different meaning than sometimes is assumed (for useful overview studies see Askland et al., 2022; Borderon et al., 2019; Hoffmann et al., 2020; Klepp, 2017; Wiegel et al., 2019; Zickgraf, 2021). The objective of this chapter is to highlight and discuss the findings and key arguments made by some of these studies, to add to a political and historical understanding of the ways in which the nexus between mobility and climate change unfolds in several regions of the Global South. For this, we will draw examples from a wide range of regions, mostly the Pacific, South Asia, and Western Africa.

We start with a general recap of the literature. Afterwards we present an overview of studies giving a more political and historical understanding of the relationships between human mobility and climate change as taking shape in the Global South. A brief note on terminology: in referring to the climate change-human mobility nexus, we will often use the term climate mobility, or in plural, climate mobilities.

Climate Change and Human Mobility: A Recap of the Debate

There exists a large body of empirical literature examining the relations between environmental change, and climate change in particular, vis-à-vis human mobility. The early accounts of this research field concentrated mostly on debating whether or not the environment has a role to play in migration decision-making (e.g. Black, 2001; Castles, 2002; Suhrke, 1994). There were some, largely environmental scholars, that tended to emphasise the impact of the environment, including global warming, on migration (see Gemenne, 2009, for a history of this debate). This was mainly out of a concern over the fast-deteriorating climate and its impact on human societies. Others, often migration and human geography scholars, have tended to critique such studies for being overly deterministic, not taking into account the highly multi-causal ways in which migration takes shape (see Gemenne, 2009 for a full account of this debate).

Research from the mid-2000s onwards has moved beyond debating towards actively examining the climate change-human mobility nexus empirically. These efforts have evolved into a fast-growing scholarship (Piguet, 2022), of which the vast majority concentrates on the Global South (Piguet et al., 2018), most often Sub-Saharan Africa and South Asia (Piguet et al., 2018; Zickgraf, 2021),2 and most studies have a case study approach (Piguet, 2022). This empirical line of research demonstrates how migration, or human mobility more broadly, is inherently multi-causal, yet it also shows that environmental changes do have a significant role to play in that equation (Piguet, 2013). The way in which this relation plays out is contextual and dependent on other factors such as the role of social network and kinship ties, experiences with mobility, the availability of support systems, the type of environmental event, etcetera (Black et al., 2011; Borderon et al., 2019; Hoffmann et al., 2020). In taking this view, most scholarship takes a “pragmatist” stance in the debate which “questions the role and weight of environmental factors in already-occurring displacements” (Piguet, 2013, 155).

Central to this line of work is the model designed by Richard Black and colleagues (Black et al., 2011). It shows how decisions to stay or move are shaped by an intersecting set of push and pull factors, including socio-economic and political ones as well as environmental drivers. They created this model as part of a Foresight Study conducted for the UK Government (Foresight, 2011) in response to then often-heard claims of so-called future floods of climate refugees, moving from the Global South to the Global North. Their work largely debunked such claims for being too environmentally deterministic and for lacking a political and socio-economic sense of how migration processes originate and develop. Their report has become amongst the most cited and used works in this field.

To further enhance the conceptual starting points of climate-mobility research, researchers have sought more analytical and theoretical rigour, to build on, but also to move beyond, the famous drivers model produced by Black and others. In that context, Sherbinin et al. (2022) published a plea for the greater use of established migration theories, to bring greater depth to the field’s initial empirical interest. In a similar context, we see a conceptual turn to the theory of mobilities originating from human geography and sociology (Sheller & Urry, 2006), applied to the fields of climate change and migration with newly emerging concepts such as Anthropocene mobilities or environmental and climate mobilities (Baldwin, 2014; Baldwin et al., 2019; Boas et al., 2022; Cundill et al., 2021; Parsons, 2019; Wiegel et al., 2019). This conceptual turn argues for a need to study the plurality, unevenness, and relationality of human mobilities in the context of a changing climate. It builds on a recent surge of works delving into the politics of the relation between climate change and human mobility, examining issues of race (Baldwin, 2016), biopolitics (Turhan et al., 2015), gender (Ayeb-Karlsson, 2020; Lama et al., 2021), or intersectionality more broadly (Cundill et al., 2021), in shaping or restricting mobility outcomes.

These studies have also expressed concern that the political has long been overlooked in the scientific and policy search for environmental causes of people’s movement. An initial interest in the field has for instance been to explain different human mobilities through differences in the environmental and climate change events themselves, namely by examining fast-onset and slow-onset events and environmental changes and their consequences for human mobility (Warner 2010). Fast-onset events are environmental and climate change impacts that happen suddenly, which can take extreme forms in a short period of time, often with devastating effects. Think of a cyclone or storm surge. Research shows how these impacts often lead to temporal displacement from homes as people return home when areas are safe (Black et al., 2013). But they may also lead to situations where people are stuck and not able to move away (Black et al., 2013; Zickgraf et al., 2018). Slow-onset dynamics often lead to gradual forms of movements (Zickgraf, 2021)—slow-onset changes such as land degradation, erosions or sea-level rise may take a long period of time. It gradually becomes worse. The decision to move and stay therefore may also take a longer period of time (Boas, 2020). Zickgraf (2021) also points out how especially permanent land changes due to slow-onset climate impacts could lead to more permanent forms of out-migration, but that there yet exists insufficient literature that explores the temporality of mobility—in the sense of it being temporary or permanent.

Whilst these accounts are of high relevance and give a good starting point to understand the impact of different environmental changes, they are not as able to further deepen the explanation as to why people react differently to for example similar slow-onset changes. Whilst some people engage in rural–urban migrations, others engage in rural-rural movements, and again others do not want to move or are not able to do so, whilst again others may be temporally displaced and later return (for examples of such varied instances see e.g. Black et al., 2013; Blondin, 2020; Farbotko, 2022; Greiner & Sakdapolrak, 2013; Mallick & Schanze, 2020; Wiegel et al., 2021). To account for such differences, several studies have complemented environmental explanations with socio-political ones (see Wiegel et al., 2019, for an overview). Drawing on De Haas’ aspirations-capabilities framework and mobilities literature, these studies for instance refer to differences in mobility capital or capacities to move, such as differences in resources to move, physical abilities to move, or social network connections to rely on that shape decisions and possibilities as to where and how to move (on these concepts, see Kaufmann et al., 2004; Haas, 2021; Sherbinin et al., 2022; Sheller, 2018).

An analysis of capacities to move can help to explain why some people are not able to move at all despite climate risk; often referred to as being “trapped” or “involuntary immobile” (Black et al., 2013; Blondin, 2020). Some may be disabled limiting options to move when a disaster strikes, again others may not have social connections needed to find another place to stay, and there are differences in how well different areas and or groups are supported by government and other agencies in getting to safety (Blondin, 2020; Zickgraf et al., 2018). A recent focus in this debate has been the role of gender dynamics in explaining limited capacities to move. In Bangladesh, for example, women are often not able to stay in cyclone shelters, as they feel harassed or men perceive the presence of an unmarried woman in the shelter as a sign of dishonour (Ayeb-Karlsson, 2020). This can lead to pressures for women to stay home or outside when a disaster strikes, leaving them potentially trapped in dangerous situations.

In addition to differentiated capacities, studies have examined the differences in aspirations to move or stay (Haas, 2021). Adams (2016), in her 2016 paper, was amongst the first to highlight that people may not want to move, despite climate risks, due to attachment to place. Literature often refers to such decisions as voluntary immobility (Blondin, 2021; Farbotko, 2022; Zickgraf et al., 2018). Since Adam’s paper, there have been several case studies demonstrating how identities that people have in relation to their places shape decisions to stay and can even result in active resistance against external pressures to relocate. Wiegel and colleagues for instance show this through a case of a small village in Patagonia in Chile (Wiegel et al., 2021). This village was destroyed by a mudslide and was therefore offered the option to relocate to a nearby area. The villagers however refused, in part as they identified themselves as being able to live with risk, with risk being inherent to the place they lived and grew up in. This well exemplifies how the nexus between climate change and decisions to move or stay is highly political. Residents do not simply want to give up their places and fight for their right to stay and to shape their climate futures.

The Politics of Climate Mobilities

Building on the burgeoning field of climate-mobility literature as outlined above, this next section further elaborates on the political and historical dimensions of climate mobilities that are taking shape in the Global South. We focus on ways in which global agendas and discourses frame the relations between climate change and human mobility and how this is actively being contested and reframed by several climate-impacted communities in different regions around the world. In these contestations, these communities draw from historically rooted understandings of their im/mobilities, their relations with the environment, and their attachment to place.

Recent studies show a wave of resistance amongst local communities towards often externally created narratives of inherent displacement and relocation. This resistance is visible in places such as the Pacific islands or Bangladesh threatened by the rising seas (Farbotko, 2022; Kitara, 2020; Paprocki, 2019; Suliman et al., 2019), the drylands in Kenya (Gross & Grauw, 2017), or the mountainous areas in Patagonia experiencing glacial melt and mud slides (Wiegel et al., 2021). Studies have demonstrated how people locally perceive their im/mobilities and relations with climate change, emphasising historical affinities with place or with mobility practices, and the right to self-determine one’s climate future (Farbotko et al. 2023). They voice a critique of how the debate about climate mobility is largely being determined by a coalition of scientists (often from the Global North), media, development banks, and humanitarian agencies, rather than by affected communities themselves (see in particular Paprocki, 2019; Suliman et al., 2019; Whyte et al., 2019; Farbotko, 2022).

This has particularly been well put by activists and scholars who study the Pacific Island States, or more appropriately termed the Large Ocean States.3 They express concerns about the global imagining of the Large Ocean States as sinking islands and therefore exposed to inherent displacement. This, so they argue, is preventing people from the islands to design their own climate futures. This constrained self-determination was well exemplified in a recent study by Bordner et al. (2020). They demonstrate that the Marshall Islands face difficulties in attracting adaptation funds for inhabitants to stay in place and strengthen their livelihoods on the Marshall Islands, as donors define the Marshall Islands as lost to the sea. They argue that “Marshallese decision-makers in this study perceive that aid institutions discount the existential implications of failing to pursue aggressive adaptation, assuming instead that migration is inevitable, economically rational, and even desirable” (Bordner et al., 2020, 1). In similar contexts, Farbotko (2022), and other scholars such as Suliman et al. (2019), have pointed towards voluntary immobilities in the Large Ocean States. They argue that these immobilities should be seen as political acts, seeking to reshape global imaginaries of islanders as future climate refugees by showing how people find ways to stay in place, often drawing on indigenous knowledge and their lived experiences to do so. In this way, decision to move or stay is not just seen as a process determined by external push and pull factors, but as a political act in itself (Samaddar, 2020), rooted in historical understandings of mobility and immobility in relation to surrounding environments (Suliman et al., 2019). For the islanders, debates and concerns of climate change go to the heart of their identity as a nation, as peoples. As argued by Kitara (2020, n.p.), an activist from Tuvalu: “We all know that Pacific Islanders are fighting against climate change as a direct threat to our land and our ocean. But how many of us realise that climate change means we must also fight for our political independence and our identity? This is our sovereignty; we cannot let it be taken away from us, even if our land is highly at risk”.

Though scholars from, or studying, the Large Ocean States have been very vocal, they are not unique in ventilating concerns about climate refugee narratives and in pointing to the political nature of climate mobilities. For instance, a similar dynamic of dominating global agendas is visible in Bangladesh; equally portrayed as a center of climate disaster. As shown in the work by Paprocki (2019), a discourse of inevitable destruction by global warming has been put forward by development banks and (non-)governmental agencies to further transform some of Bangladesh’s coastal regions from being based on rice-cultivation systems to shrimp aquaculture systems.4 She does not deny the severe risk of climate change for these regions, but critiques policy to pre-emptively label the region as “lost” without actively exploring alternative climate adaptation scenarios and without involving local communities in the decision-making processes. The resulting transformation of the region to one of shrimp aquaculture has led to much salt intrusion into the area and loss of labour—as less labour is needed in shrimp aquaculture production compared to rice cultivation. As a consequence, there has been a large outflow of people to find jobs in neighbouring regions and cities. As Paprocki demonstrates, this migration has been reframed by policy and development agencies as an effective adaptation strategy for moving out of a region highly vulnerable to a changing climate. Yet, also here we see resistance movements, fighting against such frames and for the maintenance of local culture, and associated economies of rice cultivation and climate protection thereof (Cons, 2018; Paprocki, 2018; Paprocki, 2019).

Taken together, such examples show a problematic narration of several populations in the Global South as mere victims subject to displacement or relocation. It also demonstrates how such an imagining is actively being contested by these populations, signalling the political nature of climate im/mobilities and debates thereof. In this context, an increasing amount of empirical studies, of which some has been cited above, is adopting a politically and historically rooted view to better study the nexus between climate change and human mobility. This literature is particularly critical of environmental deterministic accounts for risking to conceal dominant power structures—such as dominant discursive frames or governance regimes as exemplified above—that depict the relationship between climate change and mobility in a particular manner without this per se resonating with local experiences and understandings of these climate risks and mobilities.

Cross-Border Climate Mobilities in the Global South

The majority of climate-mobility research poses that most movement will take place on relatively local or at most regional scales (e.g. from affected rural areas to nearby urban centres) (Boas et al., 2019; Foresight, 2011; Rigaud et al., 2018). This does, however, not mean we should lose sight of borders or of cross-border mobilities (McLeman, 2019). A postcolonial approach invites us to examine the political nature of climate mobilities, which includes a critical look at im/mobilities in relation to borders. It is about how these borders reshape im/mobility dynamics, by making new connection points or by breaking off flows (Samaddar, 2020; Sheller, 2020). This means that a mere country focus may limit our understandings and make us understand climate mobilities through Western-centric concepts of the nation state. Indeed, when we zoom into many of the cases, also local human mobilities do not per se stop at the border, or if they do physically (because of hard border controls), they are still influenced by broader dynamics and social relations that take place in the context of border politics (Spiegel et al., 2022).

One typical example concerns pastoralist mobilities, being historically a highly mobile group crossing vast regions that later in (post)colonial times turned into a landscape of different nation states. In the Eastern Himalayan Borderlands for example, where the world’s third highest mountain peak of Mt. Khangchendzonga is situated, pastoralists have historically in non-linear ways transcended political boundaries between Nepal, India and even Tibet in China. The Eastern Himalayan region has become classified as a climate-vulnerable region prone to more frequent climate-related disasters like landslides, water insecurities, and rising threats of glacial outbursts (IMI, 2019); risks which are also impacting pastoralist practice. For instance, grazing sites in the mountain regions are becoming warmer in temperature, leading to more diseases amongst the livestock, and creating risks for the herders as they have to find rangelands in higher altitudes (Feroze et al., 2019). At the same time, climate risks are not alone in impacting pastoralist cross-border mobilities and cannot be seen as separate from long ongoing pressures towards sedentarisation and criminalisation that these pastoralists have faced. Ever since the political integration of the Himalayan Kingdom of Sikkim into the state of India, state-driven postcolonial conservation narratives have assumed and framed pastoralist communities and their mobile practices as a prime threat to the environment (Tambe et al., 2005). In both Sikkim and Darjeeling, policy measures took drastic shape as a state-wide ban on grazing was imposed in 1998 followed by physical evictions of pastoralists from environmental protected areas in 2002 (Singh et al., 2021). These policy developments have drastically reduced pastoralism in these areas. Those who remain are facing ongoing stereotyping, restricted access to grazing grounds, topped with newly emerging climate risks. In this context, pastoralists have adopted various coping and adaptation strategies, including forms of resistance (Singh et al., 2021). For some on the Indian side, this has meant tapping onto cross-border social ties by making informal arrangements of transferring herds to ensure continued practice (Rai, 2021). Again others have just continued grazing practices, though in higher altitudes, and still others have been pushed into other livelihood options, such as tourism, whilst facing social exclusion in their communities for abandoning their cultural practices (Singh et al., 2021).

A similar story applies to the Fulani pastoralists in West Africa; as increasingly affected by the impacts of climate variability in West Africa, and who are culturally and linguistically related and spread across a vast area of the region, mainly in the Sahel zone. The Fulani (also called Fulbe, Fula, and Peul) people constitute one of the most mobile groups in West Africa, moving southward to coastal countries with the onset of the dry season, then back northward during the rainy season (Bruijn & Dijk, 2003; Driel, 2001). In the context of climate change, urbanisation, sedentarization pressures and rising political insecurities in the region, pastoralists today are facing increasing spatial mobility restrictions and pressures over water, pasture, and grazing routes which they have been using for many years (Alidou, 2016). A recent study suggests that environmental changes such as fluctuating rainfall patterns and frequent droughts, especially from the 1980s onwards, have led to more frequent transhumance between the Sahel and the coastal States, with pastoralists migrating further and further south (Leonhardt, 2019). However, movement across these rangelands is neither free nor unregulated. For example, pastoralists crossing Ilara borderlands between Benin and Nigeria negotiate through social networks and economic exchanges with the local communities to gain access to water points and pastures (Diogo et al., 2021). Over the years, this cross-border mobility has become increasingly complex. The expansion of farming in these areas, which heightened the pressure on land and water resources, often brought pastoralists in conflict with sedentary farmers along their transhumance routes (Bukari et al., 2020; Tonah, 2000). As a response to these violent contestations and rising geopolitical insecurities in West Africa, some governments have become even more restrictive towards the movements of the Fulani pastoralists within nations and across borders, with policies that either ban or restrict their mobility to a fixed space and time (Leonhardt, 2019). These interventions are not politically neutral. Rather, they constitute a discourse that constructs transhumance practices as archaic and perceptions that pastoralists are problematic and terrorists (Bukari & Schareika, 2015; Bukari et al., 2020; Leonhardt, 2019). Under these conditions, some pastoralists are forced to consider permanent settlement or pursue wage-labour occupations outside pastoralism in urban centers (Ducrotoy et al., 2018). However, in other cases it is not an end to their transhumance lifestyle, as pastoralists also seek to resist such government policies and frames (Bukari & Schareika, 2015; Leonhardt, 2019; Tonah, 2022).

Overall, these two examples show how pastoralist mobilities—as historically highly adaptive mobilities to environmental variability and seasonality—are being impacted by a combination of historical marginalisation and new climate risks and associated discourses. Most importantly, the examples demonstrate how their movement has become highly political, which is on the one hand driven by state politics and border controls, but also by environmental policies themselves and climate change discourse.

Beyond these examples of nomadic groups, cross-border climate mobilities are also relevant to consider in other borderland regions, where people are not per se nomadic but do cross borders in the context of work or social network connections (Spiegel et al., 2022). For instance, in the delta region located on the borders of Bangladesh and India, inhabitants have historically been moving in search of new land in the context of river and sea erosion, and for seasonal labour (Blackswan, 2018; Van Schendel, 2004). Given these lands, prior to the partition of 1947, used to be united as the great Bengal region, many of its inhabitants still have work and family ties on other sides of the border. This Bengal borderland’s low-lying delta is amongst the worst affected by climate change (Shaw et al., 2022). It is impacted by cyclones and sea-level rise that intermix with natural processes of erosion and the way the delta is managed (Boas, 2020; Paprocki, 2019). The strict border regime between India and Bangladesh and ongoing efforts by the Indian government to deport Bangladeshi immigrants has severely restricted mobility. Still, cross-border mobility labelled as “illegal” remains part of daily borderland life and is therefore also one of the ways in which inhabitants seek to cope with social, economic, and climate risks (Shwely & Nadiruzzaman, 2017).

Moreover, the protest activities of people from Large Ocean States, such as Tuvalu, against narratives of inevitable relocation in the context of rising sea levels, cannot be seen as separate from cross-border mobilities. Through postcolonial ties and trade arrangements, Tuvaluans for example have been able to migrate to other states, in particular New Zealand and Australia (Farbotko et al., 2016; Hezel, 2013). This diaspora is highly vocal in seeking to regaining power over Tuvalu’s climate future. To exemplify, the famous activist group the Pacific Climate Warriors is a transnational network of young pacific islanders, living on the islands (incl. Tuvalu) and abroad, but also with many residing in New Zealand and Australia. They contest the victimised image of pacific islanders into one of peaceful warriors who “fight” instead of “drown” (McNamara & Farbotko, 2017). Initiatives include journeys of traditional canoes to Australia, to raise awareness of their climate debt, their restrictive border status, whilst showing the resilience of the islanders’ culture. As translocality research has argued for (Sakdapolrak et al., 2016), these dynamics show the importance of taking note of translocal connections that transcend borders as to how these shape climate im/mobility dynamics, policies, and discourses.

Conclusions and Ways Forward

This chapter has offered a modest review of a growing scholarship on the climate change-mobility nexus in the Global South that seeks to provide a critical and socially embedded understanding of this nexus. In short, we can draw three key lessons from this literature:

Firstly, an environmental deterministic account of the climate-mobility nexus in the Global South risks to conceal underlying socio-economic causes of grievance or inequalities that in addition to environmental factors shape im/mobilities. Im/mobilities are embedded within existing, often highly uneven, societal patterns which shape how people respond to and are able to adapt to climate risks. This means that researching how climate change affects capacities and aspirations to move or stay, needs to be done in relation to questions of socio-economic inequality, gender, race, or other (or collectively through a lens of intersectionality).

Secondly, it is clear that the climate change-mobility nexus is political. The policy agenda is largely determined by powerful players, such as the UN, World Bank, media, climate science. It is important to seek resonance with the views and lived experiences of affected communities, to account for indigenous perspectives and for these communities to self-determine or co-shape their climate futures.

Finally, a postcolonial understanding of climate mobilities can be helpful to think critically and reflexively about the climate change-mobility nexus. It would, amongst others, entail a critical perspective of borders (and their creation) vis-à-vis human mobilities and ask what this means for how we define climate mobilities. While there has been much recent work showing climate mobilities are largely local, this does not entail that borders are no longer relevant to climate mobilities scholarship. Categorising climate migrants as internal migrants, or as international migrants, risks to perpetuate political categories without exploring how climate im/mobilities are shaped by bordering processes or translocal dynamics transcending national borders.

We conclude this chapter with a recommendation for climate mobilities scholarship to open up its scope of research towards all parts of the world. This can help to more firmly move beyond a postcolonial imagination of the climate migrant (Piguet et al., 2018). There is ample research being done within Europe for example, whilst it is also increasingly facing climate risks, such as floods or droughts impacting on people’s homes and livelihoods. Interesting also is how climate mobilities in the Global North—e.g. in the United States in the context of forest fires or sea-level rise risks—appear, when compared to the Global South, less often discussed through terms of climate mobility, migration and climate refugees. Instead, these climate mobilities are increasingly discussed through the lens of “managed retreat”, as a “purposeful, coordinated movement of people and assets out of harm’s way” (Siders, 2019).5 This discursive difference—assuming climate mobilities are coordinated and managed in the Global North, whilst unregulated and crisis-like in the Global South—needs further scrutiny. It demonstrates a need to continue reflecting on the terms we use (Bettini, 2013), why we use them, and whether or not they are shaped or influenced by particular postcolonial imaginaries that need rethinking.

Notes

  1. 1.

    We acknowledge that the term “Global South” may contribute to further stereotypical imaginings of migrants and of different geographical areas in the world, whilst at the same it can be a force for political mobilisation in the context of debates of climate and mobility justice. See also Crawley and Teye, and Fiddian-Qasmiyeh, this volume, for a wider discussion on the concept of “Global South”.

  2. 2.

    Zickgraf (2021) concentrated her review on slow-onset changes (such as sea-level rise) and noted that most studies on this subject concentrate on Asia. Piguet et al. (2018) had a broader focus (also including rapid-onset events such as floods) and found most studies in Sub-Saharan Africa and South Asia.

  3. 3.

    As a postcolonial critique, the term Large Ocean States reflects the view of a “sea of islands”, contesting the frame of the Pacific Islands as “tiny isolated dots in a vast ocean” (Hau’ofa, 1993, 2017).

  4. 4.

    This trend had already started in the 1980s to enhance the export economy of Bangladesh but is increasingly rephrased as a climate adaptation strategy (Paprocki, 2019).

  5. 5.

    This argument needs further evidence-building; it is a preliminary conclusion we draw based on a preliminary reading of the debate and based on a master thesis project by Isa van Malenstein, supervised by Ingrid Boas.