This website is based on a very specific and well-documented geographical reality. My hometown is in Guizhou, China, which has the largest and most typical contiguous karst landform in the world. The outside world often assumes that Guizhou is rainy and humid, but the real ecological reality is quite the opposite: the karst landform of limestone "leaks water on the surface and forms rivers underground", and the exposed rocks are simply unable to effectively retain water. In recent years, with the abnormal atmospheric circulation caused by global warming, extreme weather in Guizhou has become increasingly frequent. The subtle rise in temperature here has been infinitely magnified by the unique vulnerability of karst, directly accelerating the process of "stone desertification".

The merciless disasters brought about by the interplay of geology and climate first struck my eyes through news footage, but the deeper shock came from what I witnessed with my own eyes when I returned to my hometown after the disaster. It was due to prolonged heavy rain and rocky desertification that caused landslides and sudden floods. In my hometown, these disasters had brutally claimed many lives. Standing before the remnants of the landslides and the riverbeds scoured by floods, there were no grand cries in the ruins, but a suffocating heaviness. It was the first time that I was acutely and profoundly aware that human beings are insignificant in the face of nature. Climate change is never just a meteorological prediction hanging in the news and belonging to the future; it is a present reality that is ruthlessly taking lives and reshaping the living conditions of specific geographical areas.

It was my long-term participation in Model United Nations (MUN) that enabled me to transcend geographical limitations and view this crisis from a more macroscopic systemic perspective. During this academic debate on climate change, carbon neutrality and environmental justice, when I was a representative at the negotiating table, fiercely bargaining over emission reduction quotas, legal provisions and international policies, I suddenly saw through the complex international terms and cold debates to the underlying essence of that merciless flood in my hometown.

It suddenly dawned on me that climate change has never been merely a straightforward issue of natural science. At the negotiating table, every number game and every balance of public policy corresponds, in the real world, to specific resource allocation and the squeezing of certain groups' living space. Developed regions squandered their environmental quotas during the process of industrialization, but the cost was borne by the people in those developing regions with extremely fragile ecosystems. This touches upon the core of international environmental law - "common but differentiated responsibilities"; and behind the implementation of ecological protection policies while ensuring the livelihood and economic security of mountain farmers lies an extremely complex sociological and public policy game.

Climate justice holds that the causes and consequences of climate change are distributed unevenly. Nations and communities that have contributed least to greenhouse gas emissions often face the greatest exposure to extreme weather, sea-level rise, and ecological disruption.

Justice also includes procedural fairness: whose knowledge counts in adaptation planning, who can access relief, and who bears the costs of relocation. For many ethnic minority communities, climate risk compounds existing inequalities in land tenure, political representation, language access, and economic opportunity.

There is no single global legal definition of an ethnic minority. Categories differ by country: some states recognize indigenous peoples, national minorities, scheduled tribes, or linguistic communities; others avoid the term entirely for political reasons.

On this site, “ethnic minorities” refers broadly to communities that experience distinct cultural, linguistic, or ancestral identity—and that may face structural disadvantage within national borders. Photo essays name specific groups and places rather than treating “minority” as a monolith.

Visual and written work should be read in local context. A label that applies in one country may be inappropriate or unsafe in another; this project prioritizes accuracy, dignity, and community-defined identity over generic classification.

Legal framing: International refugee law does not currently recognize climate change alone as grounds for refugee status. Legal protection more often depends on persecution, nationality, and cross-border movement. Some regional instruments and national policies address disaster displacement, but coverage is uneven.

Informal usage:In public discourse, people often say “climate refugee” to describe anyone forced to move by environmental stress. That phrase can raise awareness but also oversimplify complex migrations driven by economics, conflict, and gradual environmental decline.

This project uses precise language where possible: displacement, relocation, evacuation, seasonal migration, or trapped populations—each implies different rights, timelines, and policy responses. Essays and charts explain which terms apply in each case.

Representation matters. This work aims to avoid sensationalism, poverty tourism, and stereotypes about vulnerability. Subjects are portrayed as agents in their own stories, not as symbols of catastrophe.

• Informed consent and clear explanation of how images and quotes will be used
• Safety review when identifying locations or individuals could cause harm
• Accurate captions, dates, and context; no misleading juxtapositions
• Respect for cultural protocols around photography and naming
• Transparent data sourcing and limitations in all visualizations