Europe’s climate crisis is fuelling extreme weather, displacement and fragility. Technocratic relocation fails to acknowledge human attachment, cultural memory or the role of inequality. True adaptation demands justice, which means recognising the invisible fault lines that shape vulnerability, resilience and belonging.

Europe is the fastest-warming continent in the world.[1] Since the 1980s, Europe’s warming rate has been more than twice the global average, resulting in record-breaking heatwaves, destructive floods and unprecedented wildfires. While economic damage from floods and storms has been substantial, the health impacts of heat stress, particularly on vulnerable populations like the elderly, are increasing dramatically. Amid these accelerating hazards, debates about where and how people can live safely have shifted from hypothetical to urgent, pushing ‘planned relocation’ onto policy agendas.

In the prevailing discourse, planned relocation is primarily interpreted as a logistical or engineering challenge but this perspective overlooks the profound human dimensions at play. Decisions to stay, move or adapt are not simply rational calculations of risk or economic viability; they are deeply embedded in cultural memory, intergenerational dynamics and an intrinsic sense of socio-spatial belonging. This article challenges the conventional technocratic view of planned relocation, arguing that truly effective climate adaptation must account for the complex interplay between human attachment to place and community identity.

Central to understanding community responses to climate stress and relocation proposals are the ‘invisible fault lines’ that run through societies. These include generational divides, profound fears of cultural loss, which create tensions between groups with different attachments to cultural practices, and differing perceptions of risk. Consequently, climate policy, if not explicitly designed with social equity and distributive justice in mind, risks exacerbating existing socio-economic inequalities and creating new forms of forced displacement.

The Bosnian context – legacy of war and new climate threats

Bosnia and Herzegovina (BiH) has a recent and painful history of devastating conflict (1992-1995), which resulted in massive forced migration and internal displacement of over half the country’s population. The Dayton Peace Accord of 1995 aimed to reverse these egregious acts of ethnic cleansing by linking post-war reconstruction to the ‘right to return’, enshrined in Annex 7. While this policy did facilitate some repatriation, it also inadvertently generated resentment among existing residents and created complex property issues, rendering land a ‘high-value political asset’.

Alongside its protracted post-conflict recovery, BiH is confronting rapid environmental degradation and changing climate, exemplified by the 2014 floods – the most severe in over a century – which affected about one million people and displaced 90,000. Recent events continue to demonstrate this escalating threat. In March 2025, 12 people were evacuated due to flooding in Prijedor in the north-west of the country, and four were evacuated due to a landslide in the village of Zelinja Srednja in the north-east. Flash floods and landslides in October 2024 caused 27 deaths, affected over 1,000 households, and led to the evacuation of over 300 individuals, with damages estimated at 144 million euros. These events highlight that climate-induced displacement is not a singular, large-scale catastrophe but a continuous, accumulating process that erodes community resilience over time.

Many of those affected are already vulnerable, including Roma minorities and internally displaced persons (IDPs) from the war, who are thus experiencing double displacement. These communities are not just facing a new disaster; they are re-experiencing the trauma of forced movement and loss of place. A new climate disaster, forcing them to consider relocation again, is not merely a practical challenge but a re-traumatising proposition that undermines their re-established sense of belonging and stability. This historical layering of vulnerability and unresolved trauma means that displacement under climate stress is rarely a simple choice for these populations.

Importantly, in Bosnia, older people frequently resist state-sponsored relocation plans tied to post-disaster reconstruction. This resistance is deeply rooted in ancestral land ties and a profound distrust of government processes. While post-war reconstruction efforts were intended to aid recovery, they were often perceived as political tools. Where officials saw a chance to rebuild safer, modern settlements, many older people saw the plans as a threat to their identity. This resistance was not just about homes; it was about ancestral land ties. Generations of families had lived, farmed and been buried on these lands – to move was to sever a direct link to their history. Compounding this, a deep-seated distrust of government processes, a legacy of post-war political instability and corruption, meant that many people simply did not believe the state would act in their best interests. They feared losing their land and their autonomy for good. This situation is a powerful example of how a history of conflict, and a lack of trust, can become significant barriers to climate adaptation, turning a technical solution into a contested social process.

The ‘right to return’ policy, which guaranteed displaced Bosnians the legal right to reclaim property they had owned before the war, illustrates this tension. While intended as a cornerstone of peace and reconciliation, in practice it bred resentment. Many who had remained in their homes throughout the war felt abandoned, since they received little or no financial support, while those returning often benefited from international aid and housing assistance to reclaim their properties. Tensions deepened when returnees found others occupying their homes – people who were often unwilling or unable to leave after years of settlement. What was meant as a legal safeguard for displaced persons thus became another source of division, highlighting how policies designed for recovery could inadvertently reinforce mistrust and social fractures. Moreover, the 2014 floods damaged many municipal records, including land registry information, and many houses that were built before and after the war lacked proper permits, which further complicated recovery efforts and compensation. When such a high proportion of homes are informally registered, any state-led relocation scheme faces immense legal and administrative hurdles. This traps vulnerable populations in risky areas, where planned relocation is almost impossible without fundamental land reform. The emotional and mental toll on survivors also remains significant, with many experiencing fear and trauma, highlighting a critical need for psychosocial support that often goes unaddressed.

This deep historical context means that current government-led relocation initiatives, even for climate reasons, are viewed through a lens of past injustices, perceived manipulation and a history in which community needs came second to bigger political agendas. Therefore, resistance to climate-induced migration is not simply about immediate practicalities, but a profound act of reclaiming agency and cultural continuity in the face of perceived external impositions.

Cultural unrooting and ‘domicide 2.0’

This resistance in Bosnia, and similar dynamics elsewhere, highlights a critical new perspective: climate displacement, when mishandled, is a form of cultural unrooting. The term ‘domicide’, or the deliberate destruction of home, was introduced by Douglas Porteous and Sandra Smith in their 2001 work Domicide: The Global Destruction of Home, and has since been applied to describe violent displacement during the Bosnian War. It represents a strategy to eradicate not just physical structures but also the social and cultural fabric of a group. Today, we are seeing ‘domicide 2.0,’ a slow-onset process where climate change, combined with technocratic relocation plans, erases cultural and social ties to one’s home. It is a direct and hostile act of unrooting, severing people’s ties to their land and heritage through natural forces, such as wildfires, floods, landslides, droughts and earthquakes, driven by a post-war settlement pattern and fragile governance. Villages are built on floodplains and steep landslide-prone slopes, river corridors are weakened by illegal gravel extraction and deforestation, dikes and drainage systems are ageing, and responsibilities are fragmented across state, entity, canton and municipal levels. While not ‘deliberate’ as in the wartime sense, the outcome of this new physical and psychological violence is chillingly similar: homes erased, archives and cemeteries lost, neighbourhoods scattered and the everyday social ecologies that anchor identity dissolved. This is not a purely natural process, it is amplified by human decisions that sideline the environmental and climate crisis and produce policies that permit building in hazardous areas, underinvest in protection and maintenance, neglect particular populations or erect legal/financial barriers that effectively prevent return. Without a focus on preserving the intangible bonds that define a community (for example, shared practices, local knowledge and social networks) relocation simply replaces one home with a house, leaving a community that is physically present but culturally adrift.

Bridging the fault lines: recommendations

Effective climate adaptation and planned relocation thus demand a fundamental reorientation in policy and practice. This means moving from top-down, technocratic models to human-centred approaches that genuinely foreground community agency, local knowledge and the delicate socio-cultural fabric of affected populations. Adaptation must extend beyond physical infrastructure to encompass the preservation of cultural heritage, social networks and mental well-being, recognising the profound emotional toll of displacement and loss. Establishing ‘just resilience’ demands policies that are anticipatory and place-specific, coordinated at different levels, from the local to the international, grounded in legally portable rights and documentation, backed by predictable multi-year finance that follows people rather than projects, and rooted in an understanding of cultural preservation as integral to human security. Without such measures, relocation risks becoming a form of dispossession masquerading as protection.

(Re)building trust in government

In this light, refusal to move should not be misread as stubbornness or climate denial. It is often a rational and deeply human defence of social worlds built on land, kinship and memory. Any credible adaptation pathway in Bosnia must therefore start with trust-building and tenure clarity: reconstructing damaged land registers recognising de facto and informal tenure and creating transparent, trauma-informed grievance and compensation systems. This also includes establishing early warning systems and clear legal frameworks for climate-displaced people, as well as demonstrating that authorities are not just reacting to a crisis but are proactively working to build resilient and just societies.

Community-centred relocation planning

Relocation, where unavoidable, should be voluntary, phased and proximity based. Land-for-land swaps should privilege ancestral continuity, protect cemeteries, sacred sites and other anchors of cultural memory. Keeping extended families and neighbours together is not just a logistical preference but a social necessity that preserves care networks. Moreover, relocation co-design with local older people, women, youth and faith leaders can reframe movement as continuity rather than rupture, creating adaptation anchored in dignity and belonging. Diaspora co-financing and independent oversight bodies can further reduce fears of politicized allocation and strengthen community confidence in outcomes.

Safety and belonging as complementary goals

Finally, effective adaptation lies not in a binary between staying or moving, but in recognising the spectrum of choices people seek. Pairing small-scale, in situ risk reduction measures (for example, slope stabilisation, floodproofing) with opt-in relocation approaches acknowledges that safety and belonging need not be zero-sum choices. This dual strategy bridges different time horizons: localised measures reduce immediate exposure to hazards and buy time, while voluntary relocation pathways offer longer-term safety if risks intensify. Crucially, this combination respects community agency and affirms that people should not sacrifice belonging in order to be safe. Such an approach also supports social cohesion by allowing gradual and voluntary movement, rather than abrupt and disruptive displacement. For example, in a flood-prone river valley, households might first receive support through small-scale, in situ risk reduction measures, such as elevating homes on stilts, reinforcing slopes or installing local flood barriers, to reduce immediate hazards and reassure residents that their community is not being abandoned. At the same time, government agencies or NGOs can introduce an opt-in relocation programme that offers secure land tenure, housing assistance or community-led planning in safer areas. Because relocation is voluntary and gradual, families can weigh their sense of belonging and cultural ties against physical risk, and some may even move collectively with extended family or neighbours. Without these measures, narrowly conceived ‘technical’ fixes will deepen social cleavages, entrench involuntary immobility and ultimately undermine the climate resilience they aim to secure. It is not sufficient to merely rebuild physical structures; the imperative is to rebuild communities, preserve their unique heritage and support the psychological well-being of people who have already experienced profound losses of place and identity.

Kaja Burja
Research Assistant, American-Hellenic Chamber of Commerce
kaja.burja@gmail.com
linkedin.com/in/kaja-burja-33339923a

Nika Burja
Project Management Intern, American Slovenian Education Foundation
nika.burja@gmail.com
linkedin.com/in/nika-burja-093131230)

 

[1] World Meteorological Organization ‘European State of the Climate: extreme events in warmest year on record’

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