Conceptual Approach

Abstract

In this chapter, I discuss the main concepts and the theories that guide this research on the impacts of migration from, and immobility in, areas affected by climate hazards. They include the applied approaches to climate impacts, related (im)mobilities, and their well-being effects. After discussing the strengths and limitations of key migration theories, I justify why the Aspirations-Capabilities Framework serves as a valuable foundation for understanding the various ways in which (im)mobilities emerge. Additionally, the Resource-Based Model developed by Ryan and colleagues provides a useful lens to identify key processes and mechanisms through which the impacts on migrants and stayers unfold. Such impacts are conceptualized through a well-being prism. Based on a review of prominent well-being concepts, this chapter defines well-being as how the needs that climate migrants or stayers prioritize are met (measures of objective well-being); how they evaluate their life situations cognitively and emotionally in the present; and how they look to the future (measures of subjective well-being). The chapter closes by specifying and justifying the indicators chosen to represent objective and subjective well-being and by comparing them to other existing approaches for measuring the impacts of (im)mobilities.

In this chapter, I discuss the main concepts and the theories guiding this research on the impacts of migration from, and immobility in, areas harmed by climate hazards. They include the applied approaches to climate impacts (2.1), related (im)mobilities (2.2), and their well-being effects (2.3).

1 Climate Change Hazards and Impacts

To decipher how climate change leads to local effects, the starting point are hazards, namely events or trends which can damage natural and human systems (IPCC 2018a: 551; UNGA 2016: 18; UNISDR 2015). Hazards can be individual, consecutive, or combined in their origins and effects. They can have varied intensities, magnitudes, and frequencies. I distinguish between two types of hazards: gradual (or slow-onset) hazards that evolve over a longer period, such as sea-level rise, and abrupt (sudden-onset) hazards that materialize fast, often due to distinct events, such as storms. I follow this coarse differentiation also made by the UNFCCC (2013) and others for two reasons, but recognize that they are Ideal types with limitations.¹ First, the speed of hazard onset often determines the type of responses taken by concerned actors. Second, it also shapes the strategies available to affected people, including whether to migrate, flee, or stay. Typically, abrupt events create more unplanned and rapid migration that can be prolonged; they can also lead to pre-hazard anticipatory migration as well as post-hazard return or redistribution movement (Black et al. 2013; Fussell et al. 2014). By contrast, gradual hazards usually first lead to attempts to adapt locally but can involve increasingly permanent migration later (Koubi et al. 2016). I use hazards as the shorthand for climate (change-related) hazards, focusing on hydrometeorological or climatological hazards which are either likely attributable to climate change (Stott et al. 2016) or which provide a temporal analog for projected climate hazards (Ford et al. 2010).² Hence, I also examine events or trends that cannot (or cannot yet) be attributed to climate change, if they represent dynamics that will likely be aggravated by climate change, and thus provide useful insights for the present by analogy.³ The primary focus is on water-related hazards that climate change will render more salient in Peru, such as rainfall changes or floods (Christensen et al. 2013; Giorgi et al. 2014) as well as glacier retreat (Vuille et al. 2018).

Hazards can create varied impacts depending on exposure and vulnerability. Exposure concerns location; it is the “inventory of elements in an area in which hazard events may occur” (Cardona et al. 2012: 69). People, their livelihoods,⁴ infrastructure, ecosystem services and other elements can suffer damage when they are located where hazards hit. Exposure is necessary but not sufficient for impacts; an element exposed to harm can have traits that protect it from damage (Field et al. 2012). For example, farmers’ may be exposed to drought, but they may have irrigation to offset possible damage. Therefore, vulnerability is the third key variable to consider (UNFCCC 1992: 2, 4, 9).

(Social)⁵ vulnerability has emerged as a central but contested concept in climate studies (Füssel & Klein 2006). The literature abounds with conceptualizations (Otto et al. 2017), but many lack clear definitions. Two common features guide my approach (Smit & Wandel 2006). First is the idea of “susceptibility” (Eakin & Luers 2006: 366) or “sensitivity” (Möller et al. 2022: 47) to harm. Human systems suffer from a “varying degree of adverse effects” to the same harm they are exposed to given their “differential social vulnerability” (Schellnhuber et al. 2016: 274). These differences emerge due to internal (person-specific) and external (socioeconomic and locational factors) lines of differentiation (Otto et al. 2017). Internal factors determining vulnerability include age, (dis)ability and health status, ethnicity or “race”, gender, and religion. External factors include access to assets, cultural knowledge, education, social status, political power, and wealth; they can also comprise varied structural conditions, such as governance (Cardona et al. 2012; Oppenheimer et al. 2014). The second feature of vulnerability is the lack of capacity to cope with or adapt to hazards (e.g. Füssel 2012; Möller et al. 2022). While coping capacity refers to basic functioning and managing adversity in the short to medium term, adaptive capacity means the transformative ability to adjust to, address, and take advantage of changes over the long term (Möller et al. 2022: 4, 12). Coping and adaptive capacity combine to resilience (Möller et al. 2022: 37–38). For this study, it is sensible to include the lack of capacity to cope and adapt under the umbrella of vulnerabilities, although some scholars prefer to frame it as a separate component. Vulnerability is not fixed but can change during (im)mobilities. To summarize, human-made changes in the climate can create hazards with detrimental impacts, if elements of interest are located in the way of hazards, and if these are sensitive to related harm as well as deprived of strategies for managing the harm.

2 Initiation and Impacts of Migration or Immobility

2.1 Terminology and Definitions

Migration lacks an internationally agreed upon definition,⁶ but most concepts revolve around the idea of “a person who moves away from his or her place of usual residence” (IOM 2019: 130). Table 2.1 summarizes three key dimensions applied in this study.

Table 2.1 Defining dimensions of migration in this study

First, migration has a spatial dimension. I define that the change of place of usual residence (UNDESA 1998: 9) requires a geographical move to another settlement, at least transferring to another village.⁷ I focus on internal migration within countries, unless otherwise noted. The data used here comes from two sources with slightly different spatial thresholds: when using primary data, I consider people as migrants if they change their community. The Peruvian surveys with providing my secondary data define migration as living in a district different than the previous usual residence or the place of birth (INEI 2016a; Sánchez Aguilar 2012a, 2012b). Districts are the finest administrative boundary in Peru, followed by Provinces and Regions. Second, migration requires crossing a temporal threshold of stay. For primary data, I define that at least one month of presence at destinations is needed, to include the many people in Peru who move for short periods, such as seasonal or temporal migrants, but exclude temporary travel or commuting (UNDESA 1998).⁸ For secondary data, I use the surveys’ criteria. Third, for the primary data, I define that migration also requires an intention or a need to live at the destination, which can imply varied shades of voluntariness, depending on migrants’ aspirations (de Haas 2021) (see section 2.2). In summary, with climate migration I refer to a change of the usual residence from an area with climate hazards, for at least one month, with the intention or need to stay. (Climate) migration is the umbrella term for varied types of movements, involving different shades of voluntariness. It encompasses what policy language refers to as migration, displacement, and planned relocation (UNFCCC 2010).

I add three qualifications. First, migration is a continuous process and not a state. The process before migration is also part of the journey, and beyond the physical transition, changing homes also results in a process of internal, psychosocial, and economic migration with varied effects (Han 2005), which are the focus of this study. Second, not only individuals, but also groups, households, or entire communities can move. Occasionally, a community (or parts of it) relocates with some degree of planning permanently to another site or is forced or assisted to move by a third party (Brookings et al. 2015). Such planned relocation can occur in anticipation or after hazards and is also examined in this study. Third, even when affected by severe hazards, migration is not the predetermined or sole response. Many people are unable or unwilling to leave and stay in areas facing climate hazards, a still understudied fact (Foresight 2011; Zickgraf 2018). I refer to this opposite of migration as immobility, which can be involuntary, acquiescent, or voluntary (de Haas 2021) (see section 2.2).

Weaving these concepts together, I use (climate) (im)mobilities as the shorthand for migration from, or immobility in, areas facing climate hazards. Scholars lack consensus on terms for these phenomena (Dun & Gemenne 2008). Controversies persist around (a) the terms for moving or staying and (b) how the causal link to hazards is expressed. Early studies tended to use the term environmental or climate refugee (Bates 2002; El-Hinnawi 1985; Jacobson 1988; Myers 1993) but over time, environmental or climate migrant has become common (Hugo 1996; Renaud et al. 2007).⁹ For this study, “refugee” is not fitting as it refers to people crossing borders, whereas I focus on internal migration. Next, I use climate (im)mobilities for people staying in or migrating from areas facing climate hazards instead of implying a strong causality through prefixes such as “climate change-driven” or “climate-induced” migration, because this study focuses on the impacts of climate (im)mobilities rather than on the exact drivers—which remains an important field of research (Borderon et al. 2019; Foresight 2011; Hoffmann et al. 2020). This approach is close to the working definition for climate migration by the International Organization of Migration (IOM) (2011: 33, 2019: 29) and to the logic adopted by the seminal Foresight report (2011: 34).

2.2 Starting Migration: Aspirations-Capabilities Framework

Migration theories address questions such as why people decide to move; when they turn intentions to move into migration; and how movement affects people and places. They come from anthropology (Brettell 2016), economy (Greenwood 2016), geography (Wright & Ellis 2016), sociology and political science (White & Johnson 2016), and other fields. Various migration theories implicitly draw on one of the three main sociological paradigms—functionalist, conflict, and symbolic interactionist (Castles 2012; de Haas 2021)—as briefly synthesized in the following.

Migration theories based on the functionalist paradigm consider migration as a balancing and optimization strategy and migrants as rational, utility-maximizing black boxes. Main approaches include neoclassical theories, such as the push and pull model by Lee (1966), the Harris-Todaro model (1970), and gravity models (Beine et al. 2016). Social network theory (Gurak & Caces 1992; Massey & España 1987) and New Economics of Labor Migration (NELM) (Stark 1978; Stark & Bloom 1985; Stark & Taylor 1989) also have certain functionalist assumptions. However, it is questionable if migration is a free and rational optimizing behavior. Behavioral economics emphasize, for example, that rationality is bounded and information imperfect (World Bank 2015). Moreover, functionalist perspectives overlook people’s agency and cannot explain why migration is channeled into social and spatial channels characterized by unequally distributed power, restrictions, opportunities, and benefits. The overemphasis on the representative migrant moving after cost-benefit calculus and for better opportunities ignores underlying variation and contributes to this omission. The functionalist assumption that systems are predisposed to equilibrium without interference does not account for the fact that migration can reproduce, exacerbate, or introduce new inequalities between groups (for example, income groups) and across space (for example, rural and urban zones). It also overlooks how states and structures, such as networks, can constraint movements (de Haas 2014, 2021).

By contrast, migration theories based on the conflict paradigm (or historical-structural theories) hold that structural inequalities restrain, regulate, and drive migration (Brettell & Hollifield 2014a; Massey et al. 1993). Migration, in turn, can reproduce inequalities, rather than leading to equilibria. Powerful actors such as states and businesses irregularize migrants, exploit their labor, and scapegoat them. According to de Haas (2021), examples include neo-Marxist conflict theory, dependency theory (Frank 1966), world systems theory (Wallerstein 1974), dual and segmented labor theory (Piore 1979), and critical globalization theory (Sassen 1991). However, these top-down approaches ignore migrants’ agency. Migrants are not merely passive victims of adverse structures shifted around by an exploitative system. Although they do face great inequalities and restrictions, their rational (but bounded) aspirations do influence decisions to move, and many of them do improve their quality of life by moving, while challenging the control and restrictions imposed on them (de Haas 2021).

Finally, migration theories based on the symbolic interactionist paradigm stress migrants’ individuality and interactions. Examples are theories on transnationalism (Portes et al. 1999; Schiller et al. 1992; Vertovec 1999), multicultural societies (Vertovec 2007), diaspora dynamics (Cohen 2008; Gilroy 1994), and creolization (Cohen & Toninato 2010; Palmié 2006). Many empirical studies on micro-level dynamics of migrants’ livelihoods, identities, and experiences use this paradigm. However, some of these studies overlook the larger structural forces and systemic variables involved.

Although the many available migration theories are seen as complementary tools (Brettell & Hollifield 2014a; Massey et al. 1993), empirical studies tend to use little theory, specifically those on climate migration (Hunter et al. 2015; Piguet 2018). Most investigations, if they apply theory, do not use a framework suited for the complex interactions between structure and agency¹⁰ in migration and other social processes (Bakewell 2010). By contrast, the Aspirations-Capabilities Framework by de Haas (2010b, 2014, 2021) provides a complex view of structure and agency and a lens applicable to many forms, instances, and areas of migration and immobility. De Haas emphasizes that migrants’ agency is visible in their aspirations and capabilities to move. Such agency is real but limited by structural constraints and opportunities. The framework makes it possible to analyze how varied types of migration and immobility—with different agency and structural conditions—affect well-being, a key advantage as these conditions shape linked outcomes (Laczko & Appave 2013; UNDP 2009).¹¹

2.2.1 Agency through Aspirations and Capabilities

People’s individual or collective agency to act is restricted by structural constraints (see discussion on structure below), but it is real within that bounded circle. Regarding migration decisions, this agency is constituted by individual aspirations and capabilities (de Haas 2021). First, people have socially and culturally formed life goals and they perceive different chances to move or stay, which shape migration aspirations. Aspirations can be instrumental (means to an end) and intrinsic (value of migration in itself). Since people have different preferences and perceptions, not all react in the same fashion to the same stimuli. Using Hirschman’s (1970) work, one can argue that people may either aspire to stay (loyalty to the local setup or attempting to enact local change by exercising voice) or they may exit (migration) if they expect better chances elsewhere. Second, individuals need capabilities to move,¹² such as access to different social, economic, and human capitals or resources. Table 2.2 reviews combinations of aspirations and capabilities and identifies degrees of voluntariness.

Table 2.2 Aspirations-Capabilities-derived (im)mobility types

Different agency can result in two migration types (de Haas 2021). First, people with high aspirations and high resources migrate voluntarily (for example, high-wage migration). Second, when resources are high but aspirations to move are low, forced migration results (for example, displacements). The flipside is immobility. Voluntary immobility means low aspirations to move despite high resources. Acquiescent immobility occurs when both resources and desires to migrate are low. If desires to move are high but low resources hinder movement, forced immobility results (entrapment). While I use the prefixes voluntary and forced (or involuntary), the reality is seldom as clear-cut and unambiguous as these stylized Ideal types; all cases of migration and immobility can have elements of voluntariness and force, and are located on a continuum (Hugo 1996).¹³ Moreover, migration capabilities and aspirations interact. For example, more education can make people aspire lives elsewhere; the loss of resources can reduce aspirations; aspiring migrants may start acquiring skills necessary to realize their desires (“brain gain” (Kone & Özden 2017)); and those desiring to stay may withdraw resources from potential migration capabilities for local change. Finally, migration aspirations and capabilities do not only interact, they are also driven from below and above: agency depends on individual factors (such as age and health) as well as on structural constraints and opportunities, as explained next.

2.2.2 Structural Constraints and Opportunities

Structures at different levels strongly constrain or enable individual’s actions. They include states, socialization, institutions, policies, networks, culture, power, customs, norms, and other factors or processes. Together, they channel migration and immobility patterns and conditions into specific paths. Based on Isaiah Berlin’s work (1969), de Haas conceives these constraints and opportunities as manifested in migrants’ negative and positive liberties (2014: 33). Negative liberty (freedom from) is determined by the absence of constraints to exercise agency to stay or move. Positive liberty (freedom to) refers to the presence of structural opportunities for people to move or stay. Structural constraints and opportunities co-exist; for example, visa policies hinder the movement of some while enabling others to move. Together, they lead to four Ideal types of migration that occurs in free, improvement, distress, or survival conditions. Although not discussed by de Haas (2021), I argue here that structural factors do not only affect migration but also immobilities, as summarized in Table 2.3.

Table 2.3 (Im)mobility forms resulting from structural constraints and opportunities

First, people may underake free migration when highly enabling conditions are present and constraints absent, which is often true for high-wage migration. Neoclassical migration theories can shed more light on such migration, which is not observed in this dissertation and therefore not further discussed.

Second, improvement migration results if constraints are moderate, but opportunities are lower than for free migration. Because improvement migration occurs in this study, I briefly review the major applicable theories here. Network theories of migration hold that social networks can partially balance out the absence of structural opportunities typical for this form of movement. Networks are “sets of interpersonal ties” between migrants and stayers (Massey et al. 1993: 448), which reduce costs and risks for migration or increase expected returns, for example, by providing contacts for shelter or to potential employers. Thereby, networks make follow-on migration more likely. Beyond network theories, the New Economics of Labor Migration (NELM) theory indicates that households who lack enabling conditions may pool resources to send a family member to work elsewhere (Stark 1978; Stark & Bloom 1985; Stark & Taylor 1989). Migration is thus framed as a group strategy to diversify income sources and reduce risks for both migrant and non-migrant members, for example through remittances. Migration of a family member can provide self-insurance, such as against crop losses, or generates capital required for investments (Massey et al. 1993). It may not yield absolute gains in all cases, but it may buffer shocks and help improve deprivations relative to other groups.

Third, strong constraining and low enabling conditions can drive survival migration.¹⁴ Survival migrants lack protection, are prone to exploitation, and face high mobility restrictions, while they have little opportunities to move safely, for example, due to restrictive policies (de Haas 2021). Examples include internally displaced people and irregular migrants. Distress migrants face similarly strong structural constraints, but slightly more enabling conditions. Because survival and distress migrationare frequent in this dissertation, I explore the limited applicable theoretical views here (Piguet 2018). Extant theories hold that even survival and distress migrants keep some choice and theorize initial flight along a continuum of acuteness (Johansson 1990; Kunz 1973, 1981; Richmond 1988, 1994, 2002). Acute (or reactive) distress or survival migrants flee fast from imminent threats, often with little resources and toward any nearby, safer site, while those escaping in anticipation (or proactively) may have more time, information, and resources for planning and selecting sites. In addition, FitzGerald and Arar (2018) demonstrate that flight often proceeds in stages. After initial flight to safe havens close to source, secondary and tertiary movements can follow on to other, more selected sites. The authors also argue that standard migration theories can shed light on distress and survival cases. For example, NELM provides several such transferable insights. It shows that when life is threatened, not all household members may flee given financial burdens and risky trajectories; that even those with enough resources may wait until thresholds of risk are crossed; and that groups often decide together on who is to flee, while characteristics such as age or gender shape the decisions.

2.2.3 Feedbacks and Bidirectional Links between Structure and Agency

Enabling and constraining conditions can work in different directions, rendering “complex, non-linear and sometimes counterintuitive” effects on people’s agency (de Haas 2014: 27). First, constraining conditions can affect both migration aspirations and capabilities. For example, more hazards can raise migration aspirations, but they can also reduce needed resources or dishearten people. Second, enabling conditions mostly affect resources to move, but can also indirectly shape aspirations, by raising access to resources needed to realize them. For example, higher income can increase migration in the short run despite improving local conditions (Martin 2003). Indirectly, more enabling conditions can also raise the “capacity to aspire”, including through migration (de Haas 2021: 26).

Simultaneously, migrants who exert agency can either reproduce, reinforce, or modify macro structures to a limited extent through cumulative (Massey 1990) or contextual feedback effects (de Haas 2010b). They may occur through migration networks, translocality, or remittances. For example, migration can shape structural ideas of gender roles and belonging to social classes. Such feedback effects remain understudied. Different variations of this feedback argument can be found in the broader theories of Bourdieu and Wacquant (2004), Coleman (2000), Giddens (1984), and others.

In summary, de Haas’ (2021) framework provides a useful lens for studying various types of (im)mobilities. It enables me to investigate agency (desires and resources to migrate), while situating people’s bounded agency in structural conditions that enable or constrain movement. Moreover, the framework permits me to investigate interactions between agency and structure as well as feedbacks, thus locating migration within broader social change. In Figure 2.1, I summarize the framework. While the framework is useful for analyzing the initiation and conditions of (im)mobilities, it does not illuminate their effects, which are the focus here and discussed next.

Figure 2.1

(Note: Created by the author, building on de Haas’ (2021) framework and including the amendments explained above)

Aspirations-Capabilities Framework and structure-agent interactions.

2.3 Processes and Mechanisms Shaping Outcomes of (Im)mobilities

Few studies on climate (im)mobilities use theories, especially those discerning the resultant effects (Hunter & Nawrotzki 2016; Piguet 2018). Migration can be considered as a passage in life (leaning on van Gennep 1960), with the separation from an existing situation, transition, incorporation, and adjustment to new conditions. Throughout, people must rebuild their lives and manage new economic, institutional, social, and cultural variables. In this section, I first present an overview of relevant theories and then identify key processes and mechanisms through which the impacts for migrants and stayers unfold by using the lens of Ryan and colleagues’ Resource-Based Model (2008).

2.3.1 General and Sociological Migration Theories

Most general migration theories center on the initiation and perpetuation of movement (e.g. Brettell & Hollifield 2014b; Massey et al. 1993; Piguet 2018) but provide few insights into the impacts and how they evolve (Melzer & Muffels 2017).¹⁵ Closest are anthropological theories, which center on migrants’ lived and human experiences (Brettell 2014, 2016), and sociological views, discussed next.

Sociological theories explain individual factors in migration outcomes while treating migrants as “embedded mover[s]” in networks (Boyd 1989; White & Johnson 2016: 70). They are concerned with how migrants¹⁶ adjust¹⁷ to new lives, how they are incorporated or excluded, how these processes shape belonging and identity, and how migration changes destinations (Brettell & Hollifield 2014a; Zhou 1997). Since traditional sociological models focus on intergroup processes in populated destinations, they mainly apply to one of my three cases studies, namely migration from highland villages to cities (chapter 5). In the other two cases—planned relocation in Peru’s rainforest and displacement in the coastal zone—the migrants moved together with most of their communities to spaces without host communities (chapters 6 and 7); similarly, immobile populations stayed in the same communities. Thus, I only briefly discuss sociological theories and mostly for the highland case.

In the long-dominant classical assimilation model, immigrants are pulled by their roots, but naturally assimilate into the dominant destination mainstream to gain social mobility over generations (Park et al. 1925; Park 1928; Stonequist 1937). Assimilation is not without obstacles, such as exclusion by the majority and institutions due to social markers attributed to migrants (Warner & Srole 1945), cultural differences, and limited intergroup contact (Gordon 1964). Nonetheless, all classical models assume that migrants abandon their ethnic distinctiveness over time. As one important refinement, segmented assimilation theory emphasizes that host communities are often significantly stratified. Thus, migrants move into different segments, whose historically contingent contexts of reception (human capital, family structure, and modes of incorporation) drive varied acculturation¹⁸ tracks over time (Haller et al. 2011; Portes et al. 2005; Portes & Zhou 1993). Obstacles for inclusion can include de-industrialization and labor markets split into high- and low-wage jobs as well as discrimination due to ascribed minority group statuses. Critics point to empirical discrepancies of these models, including the persistence of ethnic sub-societies (Haller et al. 2011), and developed theoretical responses (Alba & Nee 2005; Perlmann & Waldinger 1997). The normative tenet that migrants should and will assimilate into a uniform, dominant mainstream is also debated (Geschwender 1978; Rudmin 2003; Rumbaut 1997).¹⁹ More recent, fundamental critiques of “integration” approaches to migration also question their normative, nationalist, and neocolonial assumptions (Favell 2019; Saharso 2019; Schinkel 2018, 2019).

Although all these theories focus on international migrants, several insights are transferable to my case study of rural-to-urban, internal climate migrants in Peru, who likewise “are transiting significant cultural space” (White & Johnson 2016: 77). For example, the theories suggest these migrants may enter different segments of unequal and stratified host communities and acculturate with the multiple aspects of the new urban life at different speeds and depths, as they encounter varied obstacles. I provide more details in the case study of rural-to-urban migration in chapter 5.

One theoretical insight applicable to all case studies herein is that the structural (dis)advantages which climate migrants experience in host areas depend on socially ascribed identity factors, such as age, ethnicity or “race”, or sex. For analyzing such processes, intersectionality may provide a valuable lens. It highlights people’s multiple and multifaceted identities as well as how marginalization and privileges related to these identities can change in different social, spatial, and temporal settings (Collins & Bilge 2020; Crenshaw 1989; Howard & Renfrow 2014). I strive to discuss differential impacts in Peru in this study whenever possible but time and resource constraints prevented a full-fledged intersectional analysis. Future work could differentiate even more how impacts they depend on intersecting sociocultural and biological factors (Anthias 2008; Bastia 2014; Cundill et al. 2021).

2.3.2 Resource-based Model of Migrant Adaptation to a New Site

The sociological models above offer limited insights for my case studies which lack pre-defined host communities, namely immobility and community relocation or displacement. For examining key processes and mechanisms of transitions in all the case studies in more detail, the Resource-Based Model of Migrant Adaptation to a New Site (RBMMA) offers a more fitting lens (Ryan et al. 2008).²⁰ While RBMMA is focused on migrants, its key tenets also have explanatory power for immobility.

RBMMA posits that migrants can lose personal, material, social, and cultural resources throughout migration. Examples include physical and psychological resources, assets, social support, networks, skills, knowledge, and beliefs learned within given cultures. Migrants require resources to satisfy needs, pursue goals, and address demands, while navigating constraints and opportunities.²¹ Unsatisfied needs result in distress and alienation.²² Resources are not only needed for initiating movement, but all phases of the migration life cycle (before, during, and after movement) can de- or increase preexisting resources, facilitate new resources, or deplete them. Resource changes can shape initial decisions to move, and later, migration journeys continue to affect resources in many ways.

These changes in resources before and during migration also influence migrants after settlement, when they strive to rebuild their lives by replacing or substituting recoverable losses. Such attempts are shaped by personal constraints and constraints in migrants’ new environments. For example, resources can become devalued, obsolete for adapting to the new sociocultural setting, or blocked by policies.²³Migrants also gain and lose new resources after arrival. Levels of resources can change as much as their value to migrants, depending on the relevance of the needs, goals, and demands in destinations. Over time, migrants’ frames of reference for assessing outcomes can change, as explained further below. Stress results when migrants (a) lose resources; when they are (b) threatened with such losses; when (c) expected returns on investments do not materialize; or when (d) the new site obliterates goals or obstructs their attainment. Stress may also emerge from four demand events or situations in the migration process: (a) demand overload (resources insufficient to satisfy needs or goals); (b) demand strain (finite resources for competing priorities); (c) aversive demands (hostile external events and experiences); and (d) demand insufficiency (un- or underchallenging situations).

In summary, the Resource-Based Model effectively identifies key mechanisms and processes in the development of impacts of (im)mobilities, which I highlight in Figure 2.2. With its focus on needs, resources, and goals, the model underscores the human dimensions of migration (and, by extension, immobility). It usefully illustrates how losses experienced before and during (im)mobilities—such as those related to climate hazards—can continue to affect well-being long after. Notably, migrants can face new demands in destinations (which may include exposure to new hazards) when they are navigating constraints and opportunities for changing their resource base. Not only resources and goals may change but also migrants’ frames of reference for assessing outcomes, as I explain in more detail below. Finally, the model emphasizes that the well-being of migrants and stayers depends on fulfilling varied needs and goals, two concepts which I explore in detail in the following section.

Figure 2.2

(Note: Created by the author, drawing on the model by Ryan and colleagues (2008) and the discussion below on frames of reference)

Key elements in the development of impacts during the life cycle of (im)mobilities.

RBMMA posits that migrants use different frames of reference to assess outcomes (Ryan et al. 2008). Initially, many compare their own lives pre- and post-migration. Relative changes matter. For example, if few needs had been fulfilled in areas of origin, even small gains in destinations are valued highly, but low starting resources also raise susceptibility to resource losses. Conversely, greater initial resources may increase resilience; they provide chances for aggregated gains and permit easier adjustment. Peers staying in home areas provide another reference point through social comparison. Over time, migrants may shift their reference points away from their own previous lives or peers at origin; instead, they may compare themselves to (segments) of the resident population.

While not explicated by the authors, these ideas draw on comparison (or discrepancy) theory, which states that people use several benchmarks to assess their situations. The theory comprises (a) adaptation level theory, (b) social comparison theory, and (c) aspiration theory, which assume (a) prior life circumstances, (b) peers, and (c) future expectations as benchmarks for subjective evaluations (Haindorfer 2019a; Schyns 2000, 2001). First, (hedonic) adaptation level theory (also: dynamic equilibrium or set point theory) stipulates that people grow accustomed to new stimuli and recurring situations, which therefore are assumed to change people’s subjective assessments only transiently (Brickman et al. 1978; Scitovsky 1992). Even after strongly positive or disruptive events—such as a relative’s death—people are thought to adapt and return to equilibrium levels (Diener et al. 2009; Lucas 2007; Sheldon & Lucas 2014). This theory thus predicts that migrants’ subjective evaluations may change at first but then return to a stable set range, holding them in a hedonic “treadmill” (Brickman 1971). Second, aspiration theory states that people assess their lives by evaluating their goal fulfillment (Henne, Thorsten and Stutzer, Alois 2014). Migrants constantly change aspirations after settling, and as a result, the benchmark for success can change. Third, established psychological research (Festinger 1954; Gruder 1971; Hyman 1942; Wills 1981) indicates that all humans compare themselves to others for self-evaluation (Wood et al. 2007).²⁴ Such social comparisons can result in relative deprivation (Melzer & Muffels 2012, 2017):²⁵ people can feel angry, resentful, or frustrated when they believe that they have less than others (Crosby 1976; Crosby & Gonzalez-Intal 1984; Merton & Kitt 1950; Schulze & Krätschmer-Hahn 2014: 5443). As targets of comparison, models assume either society at large²⁶ (Sen 1983) or members of a reference group (Runciman 1966). Applied to this study, migrants and stayers may thus assess their relative rank in society or compare themselves with others similar to them, for example, those in comparable social positions, jobs, or residential zones, and those with similar characteristics, at home or in destinations.

To summarize, migrants use varied frames of reference to assess their situations. Pre- and post-(im)mobility changes can be assessed in all case studies in this dissertation, and these internal standards thus are the analytical focus. Conversely, new peers only matter as a benchmark for rural-to-urban migrants who move to new host communities, whereas the rainforest and coastal migrants moved to uninhabited areas. Due to time constraints, I could not collect detailed data on all vantage points; future work could assess all relevant frames of reference. Nevertheless, chapter 5 with the rural-to-urban migration case study provides various insights into comparisons with peers at home.

3 Well-Being Impacts of (Im)mobilities

In chapter 1, I have argued why multilayered well-being provides an appropriate lens for my research questions. First, other common prisms to assess impacts of climate (im)mobilities—such as human rights protection, security, human security, or adaptation—are valuable but imply different priorities regarding the data to be collected and the measures to be evaluated. This study sets a more ambitious benchmark than recent migration as adaptation perspectives, which are concerned with preserving a status quo or returning to zero after climate hazards. Rather, the aim here is to investigate if migrants and stayers can “be well” and lead the lives they aspire to (leaning on Sen’s (1999) idea of development). Well-being analysis is a more comprehensive and human-centered view of effects related to (im)mobilities beyond standard economic measures of success, as it moves people and their varied needs, goals, and resources to the center of the discussion (see previous section). Second, even when migration facilitates successful climate adaptation, it “is not socially neutral or simple” (Adger et al. 2018: 40). Especially those forced to move can face great psychological, social, and cognitive stress (Helm et al. 2018; Schwerdtle et al. 2020). In addition, not all movements that net improve socioeconomic indicators also raise subjective well-being (SWB), and vice versa, making a SWB lens a valuable complement to more objective indicators (OECD 2013). For example, even those who improve materially may feel poorer in a larger sense when they experience loneliness or despair (Wright 2010, 2011). By using socioeconomic indicators chosen by outside experts as proxies for migrants’ adaptive capacities (Gemenne & Blocher 2017; Melde et al. 2017), the few existing studies move subjectively felt well-being effects to a dead corner. Finally, a certain degree of outside forcing is likely even for climate migration that is framed as anticipatory and adaptive (Gemenne 2015); analyzing the related loss and damage requires to “engage more deeply with values, places, and people’s experiences” (Tschakert et al. 2017: 1). A SWB lens serves these purposes well. Moreover, SWB also ought to be measured because it is a means to an end that contributes to health, relationships, and other spheres (see chapter 4). This focus on well-being is also in line with the IPCC’s latest approach (Cissé et al. 2022). Below, I review well-being concepts and define it as how the needs that climate migrants or stayers prioritize are met (measures of objective well-being, OWB); how they evaluate their life situations cognitively and emotionally in the present; and how they look to the future (measures of SWB). Then, I specify the indicators chosen to represent OWB and SWB.

3.1 Terminology and Definition

Well-being concepts used in similar ways include capability, human development, happiness, living standards, quality of life, prosperity, utility, and social welfare (McGillivray 2007). Among these terms, I choose well-being to link this work to the centuries-old discussions of what “being well” means to people (Copestake 2008a) and the rise of well-being as a “major research focus in development studies” (Gasper 2008: 47). The term “be-ing” usefully underlines the active process needed for a good life (Gough et al. 2008) and still leaves space to define the scope of the desired state of being well (Copestake 2008b). Many ideas with different purposes exist of what constitutes a “good life” (Dodge et al. 2012; Gasper 2007; McGillivray 2007). They structure what goals people value and pursue, how they build institutions, and how they make political decisions (Adler & Seligman 2016). Defining and measuring well-being is thus “unavoidably political” (Copestake 2008b: 1). Well-being is a normative concept, person-centered, and it aims for more than just avoiding harm by setting a high quality and sufficient quantity of life as the goal (Copestake 2008b; Gasper 2008). There is “no settled consensus on its meaning” (Gough et al. 2008: 5), and well-being has often been described, but seldom defined (Dodge et al. 2012). I draw inspiration from several sources.

First, McGillivray’s seminal review of well-being concepts defines it as “the state of individuals’ life situation” (2007: 3). I draw on this non-normative definition as it usefully underscores that well-being concerns all spheres of life and many factors that may differ between individuals. While life situations dynamically change over time, the term state underscores the momentary nature of the assessment. Second, for further refinement, Costanza and colleagues define well-being as “the extent to which objective human needs are fulfilled in relation to … perceptions of subjective well-being” (2007: 269). Similarly, Gough and colleagues use well-being as an umbrella for the “objective circumstances of the person and their subjective evaluation of these” (2008: 5). In these views, being well depends on “what a person has; what they can do with what they have; and how they think about what they have and can do” (McGregor 2008: 317). These definitions usefully emphasize that being well arises from abilities to meet needs, in practice or as a possibility. Needs are normatively prioritized goals, whose fulfillment through different satisfiers results in OWB, and whose absence leads to harm (Gasper 2008); in section 2.3.2, I explain the notion in detail. Moreover, the definitions above highlight that it also matters how people perceive and evaluate current need fulfillment (SWB). Various reasons speak in favor of this perspective. First, means to meet human needs do not necessarily translate into what Sen and Nussbaum (1993) would call valuable functionings. For example, income does not equal subjectively felt greater well-being if it is spent on self-destructive behavior (McGillivray 2007). Second, measures on need fulfillment describe the conditions that people deem necessary for a good life, but do not measure directly if they perceive their lives as positive (Campbell & Converse 1972). Although linked, need fulfillment and respective evaluations are not the same (Tay & Diener 2011). Even when all needs are fulfilled, people may feel discontent, hopeless, or realize that they have been pursuing the wrong goals. For example, in Latin America, human development indices are only weakly correlated with people’s SWB (Rojas 2018). SWB centers on one “end goal of all human activities” (Tay et al. 2015), namely the direct perception that life is going well (Diener & Tay 2016; OECD 2013), and that the future offers chances for desired outcomes (Gulyas 2015). It thereby provides a valuable, complementary window into people’s inner lives that also incorporates the distinct weights they give to nuances of their well-being (OECD 2013). Third, the evidence indicates that SWB is not only an essential metric but also a means to an end, as it shapes health, relationships, and work (Paul 2016; see section 4.2.2). For these reasons, I argue that frameworks to analyze well-being effects of climate (im)mobilities ought to integrate SWB.

While I consider SWB a useful complement to OWB, it is not sufficient as a standalone measure. SWB can be affected by a lack of information, norms, mental capacity, psychological resilience when facing adversity, the cultural and linguistic context of interviews, and other factors (OECD 2013). Evaluations can be made with different suitability (Veenhoven 2015) and people can mis-assess their situations (Kagan 1994). Framing effects—such as comparisons with prior own states or with reference groups—may shape results (Fujita 2008; Fujita & Diener 2013). Further, response shifts or adaptive preferences (Crettaz & Suter 2013) can, to some extent, mean that “one’s preferences and perceptions adjust to one’s situation… to reinterpret it as normal and tolerable” (Gasper 2007: 35). Rather, I frame well-being as consisting of both non-subjective and subjective aspects (Dolan et al. 2017; Gough et al. 2008). OWB and SWB have their distinct values and limits, and a mix offers a fuller perspective than either one alone (Costanza et al. 2007; OECD 2013). While early well-being accounts tended to be utilitarian and focused on few dimensions, multidimensional accounts prevail nowadays (Alkire 2002; Gough et al. 2008), and “future assessments should combine both measures of objective and subjective well-being, in order to provide the full picture of human flourishing” (Forgeard et al. 2011: 98). In line with debates on how to measure societal progress beyond income, SWB research is expanding fast (Diener et al. 2017a). In summary, I define well-being as the state of people’s life situations based on need fulfillment, their present evaluation thereof, and their views of the future. Below, I examine the literature on the key elements of my definition.

3.2 Conceptualization of Key Well-Being Elements

The applied definition underscores that gauging migrants’ well-being requires three measures: (a) on people’s need fulfillment (OWB) as well as on (b) their present evaluation of need fulfillment and (c) views of the future (SWB) (Costanza et al. 2007, 2008; Gasper 2007). OWB and SWB measures can be self-reported or subject-independent (Gasper 2007), as listed in Table 2.4. In this work, I use self-reports (interview and surveys), in which affected people explain and evaluate their need fulfillment.

Table 2.4 Possible measures of SWB or OWB and indicators

I select a substantive good approach to identify measures of OWB and elements of hedonic approaches for measures of SWB.²⁷ By contrast, I reject the idea of people as homines oeconomici focused on desires or revealed preferences. In such utilitarian notions, people are considered well when they fulfill their inclinations (Gasper 2007). Often, these preferences are measured through income or consumption as proxies for well-being (Chambers & Echenique 2016). Such an approach is not suitable for this dissertation for four reasons. First, these proxies neither gauge well-being nor preferences directly, but rather the monetary choices made (Gasper 2007). Second, not all preferences can be expressed adequately in money but may still be relevant for well-being, such as relationships. Third, consumption choices only reveal what people are prepared to and able to pay for desires, a limitation for poor zones, such as the deprived Peruvian communities investigated here. Finally, there are also obstructive consumption patterns such as addictions or preferences to harm others that, if fulfilled, can reduce well-being (Sagoff 1994; Scanlon 1993) (Table 2.5).

Table 2.5 Major existing approaches to well-being

3.2.1 Measures of OWB (Need Fulfillment)

In the definition applied here, OWB focuses on how human needs are met or on means and conditions to meet them theoretically. Below, I explain that needs comprise things that persons value and manage to do or be in their lives, and satisfiers contribute to or permit these needs (Gasper 2008). To identify the needs and satisfiers of interest here, I use a substantive good approach (Parfit 1992; Scanlon 1993). Such approaches frame well-being as the access to, or achievement of, lists of substantive goods that can facilitate a state of being well (although, as implied in my definition and argued before, not everyone subjectively experiences life as positive even if needs are fulfilled, and vice versa).

3.2.1.1 Needs in Different Substantive Good Approaches

Between 1938 and 2000, at least 39 attempts were made to define well-being through substantive good lists (Alkire 2002). Such lists can be stipulated; be based on analytical work; drawn from consultations with people; or emerge in a combination thereof (Gasper 2007). Stipulated lists can, for example, draw on religious principles or traditions (for an overview, see Gore 1930). Lists can also be based on analytical work, as illustrated by Rawls’ list of prerequisites for planning and implementing rational life, which he deduced from rational thinking (Rawls 1993, 2005).²⁸Nussbaum’s (1992, 2012, 2013) list of functional capabilities is a key example of an approach derived from formal criteria and ethical reflections.²⁹ Her work builds on Sen’s capabilities approach, which does not explicate a list of universal outcomes (Sen 1999; Sen & Nussbaum 1993). Rather, well-being for Sen is how people can function with available resources. People can value doing different activities (beings or doings, or functionings) and capabilities refer to the opportunity and freedom to achieve valued combinations of functionings. Well-being is what people can achieve, and what they prioritize according to their needs; according to Sen, well-being is leading the life one aspires to live.

By contrast, the substantive good lists that inform the measures of OWB in this study draw on theories of “needs” derived from analytical work. Theories of needs have a long history. Early, Maslow (1943) considered humans as innately driven by seeking to satisfy physiological needs first, and only then needs for safety, love, self-esteem, and self-actualization. He saw needs as built-in drives that regulate behavior (Gasper 2008). Although this theory is often cited, critics have pointed to a lack of scientific foundations and its hierarchal and ethnocentric conception of needs (Hofstede 1984; Mittelman 1991; Neher 1991). The idea of needs, still, has continued to influence policy and practice. In the 1970s, various UN agencies championed a basic needs lens to development practice, focused on the bare minimum required for physical health, such as food and shelter (Jolly 1976; Stewart 1985). The poverty line was defined by the absence of means to satisfy these needs. Thus, needs referred to means to ends (as opposed to Maslow’s idea of built-in drives) (Gasper 2008). Later, these approaches were criticized as lacking scientific rigor, being overly focused on consumption and subsistence rather than progress and self-reliance, and remaining uninformed by class and group conflicts (Ghai 1978). Basic needs views were based on ethically or publicly prescribed priorities that the state should strive to provide. They fell in disuse in the 1980s and 1990s (Gasper 2008, 2009). During these years, Penz (1986), Braybrooke (1987), and Max-Neef and colleagues (1991; 1986) further developed the needs concept. The latter argue that being well depends on fulfilling fundamental human needs specific to humans.³⁰ While these needs are universal, the means to achieve them (coined as satisfiers) are of different types and dependent on time, place, and culture.

Later, Doyal and Gough (1984, 1991) integrated these and other advances in their theory of human need. Instead of seeing needs as in-built behavioral drives, they use needs normatively as aims “that everyone either does or should try to achieve” for the universal goal of avoiding serious harm (Doyal & Gough 1991: 35).³¹ For the authors, the two normative, universal basic needs are (a) physical health and (b) cognitive autonomy. Physical health needs are vital to avoid serious harm, such as hunger or diseases, and these needs can be satisfied with objects, activities, and relationships that have universal features. Such satisfiers comprise food; water; shelter; non-hazardous work and physical environments; physical security; health care; security in childhood; significant primary relationships; economic security; safe birth control and childbearing; and education. While satisfiers can have universal features, their properties can vary culturally, such as types of food. Additionally, these satisfiers create conditions (mental health, thinking skills, and chances for social participation) in which cognitive autonomy can be satisfied (making cogent choices to achieve intentional goals). Hence, in this theory, two universal objective needs exist, but they can manifest or express themselves differently in different cultures and be met through culturally varied satisfiers (Gasper 2008).

These refined needs conceptions gained traction again in development practice in the 1990s. For example, need fulfillment is the focus of the early 1990s Human Development Index, the late-1990s Millennium Development Goals, and the 2015 Sustainable Development Goals (Gasper 2008; Gough et al. 2008).³² Doyal and Gough’s theory also shaped the Wellbeing in Developing Countries (WeD) project in the 2000s, which aimed to re-direct development practice toward well-being thinking. This project links needs and well-being approaches in a way that can usefully inform this empirical study.³³

3.2.1.2 Specifying Needs for the Peruvian Context

Fulfilling needs is the precondition for OWB, but “different conceptions of wellbeing lead to different specifications of need” (Gasper 2008: 59). Often, lists of needs are stipulated by experts. Yet, I argue that three reasons speak for a different approach. First, such expert lists can constitute elitist knowledge shaped by researchers’ values that is removed from the local context of their use (Copestake 2011; Crisp 2017; Gasper 2007).³⁴ Second, they can be questioned from a decolonial perspective, especially in former colonies such as Peru (Escobar 1995; Yamamoto et al. 2008).³⁵ With these criticisms in mind, I second the argument that well-being studies must be informed by local contexts (Chambers 2003; Yamamoto et al. 2008).³⁶ Local culture and values influence ideas of the good life (Diener et al. 2018b; Schimmack et al. 2002; Suh et al. 1998); weightings vary across time and context (OECD 2013); and “developing countries people’s thoughts and emotions matter” as the experts of their lives (Yamamoto 2007: 1). A locally sensitized approach is also relevant for this work. Emic research in the Andes and the Amazonas (from within the groups of interest, not from an observer view (Kottak 2012)) reveals that well-being conceptions in traditional Peruvian villages are different from, although shaped by, those of individualism and autonomy in the Global North (Alvarez 2008; Yamamoto 2014, 2016; Yamamoto & Feijoo 2007). Villagers lean on ancestral lifestyles and traditions revolving around collective behavior, community, cooperation, reciprocity, nuclear family, self-consumption lifestyles, as well as physical and spiritual health. Hence, a locally grounded approach is key for my research in traditional rural communities in Peru (Adler et al. 2016).

My objective is neither to “essentialize” experiences of people in the Global South and to “overemphas[ize] the unchanging nature” of their world (Copestake 2008b: 13). Nor do I uncritically approve of all local notions and practices, even harmful ones, for the sake diversity, a common criticism identified by Nussbaum (2012). Rather, grounding universal models in local reality acknowledges that they have shared, but also different views about the good life and deprivations (Altamirano et al. 2004; Nuijten & Vries 2003). Since location and history shape the relationships to factors that make for a good life (Álvarez et al. 2008), an approach is required that is “universally comprehensible but … nevertheless sensitive to particular social, economic and cultural contexts” (McGregor et al. 2015: 2). To me, being well means the ability to achieve goals shared by all people as well as those set within specific local contexts. This conception matters beyond theoretical discussions. Well-being and development ideas also structure the work of development actors, who “often act in a way that fails to give sufficient weight to the wellbeing of all those affected by their actions” (Copestake 2008b: 1). Such failures can stem from knowledge production detached from local realities (Mignolo 2007a, 2012). By analogy, this study of climate (im)mobilities should account for the well-being notions held by affected people in Peru. Therefore, I identified needs and satisfiers from existing research with deprived Peruvians (Copestake 2008c, 2011) and adjusted these items through analysis of the new data collected for this study, as explained next.

The main source for identifying local Peruvian needs was the WeD research mentioned above (Copestake 2008c, 2011). Starting from Doyal and Gough’s (1991) theory, it offers a well-being approach as conceived by deprived Peruvians. To identify local well-being notions, scholars reviewed the literature and collected extensive data³⁷ from seven poor, diverse sites in Peru (Altamirano et al. 2004; Alvarez 2008). Respondents specified 35 well-being goals, and factor analysis identified three underlying latent goals (shown in Table 2.6). Respondents also cited seven resources as key means to achieve these goals, including migrating (Copestake 2011; Lockley et al. 2008).³⁸

Table 2.6 Components of well-being ranked by Peruvian respondents

Based on these results, WeD defined well-being as “a state of being with others in society where (a) people’s basic needs are met, (b) where they can act effectively and meaningfully in pursuit of their goals, and (c) where they feel satisfied with their life” (Copestake 2008b: 3). This definition has many commonalities (and some nuanced differences)³⁹ with my own, which frames well-being as the state of people’s life situations, based on need fulfillment, the present evaluation thereof, and views of the future. While the WeD results provide a valid foundation for specifying goals and needs relevant in the local Peruvian context, I also interviewed people in areas beyond WeD’s sites in Central Peru. I therefore verified, prioritized, and adjusted the WeD measures of OWB through my own interview data. Using concept- and data-driven coding of the data (see 3.2.1), I merged or moved certain elements and added or renamed items. Figure 2.3 shows the resulting OWB framework for this work.

Figure 2.3

(Note: Created by the author)

Locally grounded framework for assessing OWB in Peru.

In summary, the three central OWB categories for this research are (a) development from a secure base, (b) social relatedness, and (c) a space to live better. Four comparisons validate the relevance of the chosen components. First, the selected items cover most intermediate needs cited by Doyal and Gough (1991).⁴⁰ Second, they cover most impoverishment risks ensuing from forced migration identified in Cernea’s (2004) influential work. Figure 2.4 shows the eight major sub-elements of this impoverishment risk. To counter these risks, Cernea classifies eight required reconstruction efforts, which closely align with the OWB elements identified here and corroborate their significance.⁴¹

Figure 2.4

(Note: Created by the author, drawing on the model by Cernea (2004))

Comparison of Cernea’s model and OWB dimensions in this study.

Third, the items selected here also cover most indicators proposed by international organizations to measure vulnerability in displacement and to assess progress toward durable solutions, a right enshrined in principles 28–30 of the Guiding Principles on Internal Displacement (OCHA 1998). The conceptual framework here includes most of the eight requirements to end displacement defined by the UN Inter-Agency Standing Committee (IASC 2010) Framework on Durable Solutions for Internally Displaced Persons (The Brookings Institution & University of Bern 2010), which was operationalized later (JIPS 2018).⁴² Similarly, the International Recommendations on IDP Statistics (IRIS) have drawn on the IASC framework to develop metrics for measuring progress in addressing vulnerabilities (EGRIS 2020). The framework applied in this study cover most of these metrics.⁴³ Three main differences are that none of the international metrics on displacement vulnerabilities include SWB, social relatedness is mostly limited to family reunification, whereas the framework here does not cover suggested political and legal items, such as access to documentation.

Finally, the needs chosen for this study cover key development objectives enshrined in the 17 Sustainable Development Goals (SDGs).⁴⁴ Development from a secure base is closely aligned with SDGs 1–4 and 8. A space to live better echoes SDGs 6, 9, and 11 as well as SDGs 7 and 11 in part. By contrast, the SDGs only implicitly cover the two other dimensions applied here, namely social relatedness and subjective well-being. In addition, the needs applied here do not cover SDGs with relevance at the societal level, such as those relating to biodiversity (SDGs 5, 10, 12, and 14–17).

3.2.2 Measures of SWB

After having specified the OWB items, I turn to discuss measures for how people evaluate present need fulfillment and how they view the future. The umbrella term subjective well-being (SWB) is rooted in hedonic philosophy (from ancient Greek hēdonḗ, “pleasure”). This tradition frames being well as achieving different pleasures or satisfactions while reducing discomfort and pain, as embodied in writings by Epicurious, Bentham, Hobbes, and Locke (Huta & Ryan 2010; Kashdan et al. 2008). Psychological SWB research builds on this notion and has been a central field of Positive Psychology (Diener 1984, 2000; Pavot & Diener 1993). It frames SWB as “the extent to which a person believes or feels that his or her life is going well” (Diener et al. 2018a: 1). Measures of SWB are direct, internal, self-reported evaluations of how people assess their lived experience and the significance they attach to them (Diener 2000; OECD 2013). How such evaluations arise is explained next.

3.2.2.1 Evaluation of Need Fulfillment in the Present

People have varied inner abilities “to cope with the problems of life”, which can translate into an inner, present „subjective enjoyment of life“ (Veenhoven 2015: 208).⁴⁵ Yet, good chances do not automatically lead to positive results; and equally, limited chances can be occasionally sufficient for positive results. Present SWB depends on two pathways: first, cognitive calculations of goal realization or satisfaction in life domains, and second, inferences based on emotions (Veenhoven 2014, 2015). The first path to SWB is satisfaction, the cognitive evaluation of current need fulfillment (Diener et al. 2010; Diener et al. 2017a).⁴⁶ The second path to present SWB is having more positive than negative emotions over time (Diener 1984; Schwarz et al. 1999).⁴⁷ Taken together, research emphasizes that cognitive and emotional paths are correlated, but distinct; and while both matter for SWB, affective appraisal is often principal (depending on social and normative contexts) (Busseri 2018; Dolan et al. 2017; OECD 2013; Suh et al. 1998; Veenhoven 2015). Present SWB stems mostly from people’s mental appraisals of emotional balances and, to some degree, of their cognitive satisfaction (Kahneman & Riis 2006; Pavot & Diener 1993). Researchers thus characterize present SWB by (a) high experiences of positive feelings, (b) low experiences of negative feelings (emotional balance), and (c) high cognitive satisfaction (Busseri 2018; Diener 1984; Diener & Tay 2016; Schwarz et al. 1999). SWB appraisals come with varying degrees of confidence, reflection, and suitability (Veenhoven 2015). Since SWB is a mental assessment made and felt by people, it can be asked for. For emotional balance, people are asked repeatedly to record their affect or to fill out diaries about activities and linked feelings. SWB studies ask people to assess (cognitive) satisfaction with domains of live or live overall, commonly in surveys⁴⁸ (OECD 2013). In this study, I interviewed people and derived their SWB from their narratives (see section 3.2.1 on the qualitative strand).

Critically, the hedonic tradition does not favor more positive thoughts and emotions at all costs, without limits, or in all cases (Gruber et al. 2011). Transient negative emotions are normal and needed in specific situations, such as after losses. Moreover, the types of valued positive states can differ across cultures and some positively sensed emotions, such as hubris pride, do not create benefits. In addition, positive emotions can lead to suboptimal behavior when people must detect threats and react fast; when they must make appraisals that require systematic processing of information; and in certain social situations. Finally, the benefits of SWB—such as better health—do not require exceedingly high levels; rather, “frequent but mild positive moods may be sufficient” (Diener et al. 2017a: 94).

3.2.2.2 Views of the Future

The two emotional and mental evaluations discussed above are concerned with need fulfillment in the present (and to some degree, the past). For this study, I decided to add views of the future as a third dimension (Glatzer 2012; Gulyas 2015).⁴⁹ The additional prism is valuable for three reasons. First, well-being feelings and thinking about the past, the present, and the future are linked but not the same; for example, one can be grateful for the past and content in the present but pessimistic about the future (Forgeard & Seligman 2012; Seligman 2002). I agree that “people with hope and those without are of different subjective well-being, given all other components of well-being are equal” (Glatzer 2015: 10) and “how we perceive the future can greatly affect how we feel in the present” (Pleeging et al. 2021a: 1019). For example, migrants with unmet needs who either look to the future with hope or with fear will experience different SWB.⁵⁰ Second, climate change shapes people’ future expectations through various mechanisms (Doherty & Clayton 2011; Helm et al. 2018; Manning & Clayton 2018), including uncertainty, distress, helplessness, and anxiety on the negative end (Fritze et al. 2008), for example after the loss of place (Tschakert & Tutu 2010; Warsini et al. 2014). Because such processes will likely also affect people who stay in or leave areas that face climate hazards, it is valuable to measure their views of the future. Third, (im)mobilities are driven not only by aspirations for the future (see section 2.2.2), but can also alter future outlooks, for example, by creating risks and uncertainty (e.g. Williams & Baláž 2012). The review in chapter 4 provides more details. For these reasons, views of the future offer a valuable additional prism for assessing climate (im)mobilities.

Researchers have conceptualized outlooks on the future differently. Studies on hope(lessness)⁵¹ typically focus on “expectations of improvement or deterioration of the economic, social or personal situation” in most fields (Pleeging et al. 2021b: 3). Social science studies tend to center on external sources of hope (for example, conflict, culture, or history); its social experience; and its external effects, such as societal mobilization. By contrast, for psychological approaches, hope is an active force for individual and concrete goals; they often have two common elements, namely (a) a future desire and (b) the belief that this desire can be achieved (Pleeging et al. 2021b). Hope can be conceptualized as a multidimensional experience with at least these three layers (Pleeging et al. 2021b; Pleeging et al. 2021a): its cognitive and motivational dimensions (Snyder et al. 1991; Snyder 2000, 2002) as well as its emotional function (Fredrickson 2001).

In the end, hope, optimism, and positive expectations (and their antonyms) are all future-oriented, expectancy-based states or beliefs that desired events will (or will not) outweigh negative events in the future. They are often used interchangeably despite fine conceptual differences (Milona 2020; Peterson & Seligman 2004; Pleeging et al. 2021b), which I will also do for ease.⁵² Under the umbrella term “views of the future”, I follow the definition of hope as “a positive expectation that something good will happen, or that the future will be better than the present”, and fear being the reverse (Gulyas 2015: 872). Optimism is a state with more hope than fear regarding the future, pessimism the reverse, and neutralism means that there is no expectation of change (Gulyas 2015). People’s arrays, experiences, and effects of such hopes and fears are heterogenous. Pleeging et al. (2021a) provide a review of the varied objects and sources of hope, the diverse possibilities to experience hope, and its variable effects. Moreover, future outlooks can have varied subjects. Especially in more collectivist societies, subjects can include family, peers, or spiritual beings (Bernardo 2010), a vital insight for Peru given its collectivist leaning (Alvarez 2008; Yamamoto 2014, 2016; Yamamoto & Feijoo 2007). To learn about people’s views of the future in this study, I used interviews (see section 3.2.1).

3.2.2.3 Possible SWB Outcomes

SWB combined with OWB, as used here, offers a broad view of the effects of climate (im)mobilities that is greater than the sum of its parts (Forgeard et al. 2011), since it permits examining outer and inner life chances as well as results (Glatzer 2015). However, objectively fulfilled needs do not mechanically lead to the subjective perception that needs are satisfied or vice versa (Veenhoven 2015), so that OWB and present SWB can converge or diverge (Glatzer & Zapf 1984; Zapf et al. 1987), as can views of the future (Gulyas 2015). Figure 2.5 displays the range of possible outcomes. (A) true well-being refers to a state in which people in good conditions evaluate and experience their present lives as good; it can be attended by enfolded hope or dramatized future fear. Conversely, (b) deprivation denotes people in adverse conditions who evaluate and experience their lives as negative, which can be combined with precarious hope or enforced future fear. In between, (c) fragile dissonance is a state when people live in good conditions, hold negative evaluations and feelings, but also hope for the future, whereas high dissonance means they lack such hope. (D) adjustment means positive present satisfaction and feelings despite negative conditions; it is fragile when combined with fear and high when accompanied by hope for the future.

Figure 2.5

(Note: Created by the author, building on the work by Gulyas (2015)Footnote

I added the prefix true to the original term. Rather than adaptation, I use adjustment to distinguish it from other usage.

)

Differential possibilities of OWB and SWB outcomes.

Combining the measures of SWB and OWB developed in this chapter renders a comprehensive framework for assessing the well-being effects of climate (im)mobilities, as presented in Figure 2.6.

Figure 2.6

(Note: Blue icons designate OWB and the grey icon SWB. Created by the author)

Measures of OWB and SWB applied for assessing impacts of climate (im)mobilities.