In her experience running war games for the U.S. military, Stacie Pettyjohn found that whenever scenarios involved nuclear weapons, participants tended to be flummoxed. 

“Normally folks playing the U.S. side are at a loss as to what to do,” she says. It was not uncommon for teams to unnecessarily escalate hostilities – and stumble into the nightmare of nuclear war. “It’s one of those things that’s terrifying,” she said. 

Time and again, though, the prospect of “mutual assured destruction” served as a powerful enough deterrent during the real world of the Cold War, and in subsequent decades fears of a nuclear armageddon began, rightly or not, to decline considerably. 

Today, however, speculation surrounding Russian President Vladimir Putin’s potential use of so-called low-yield, or tactical nuclear weapons in his war on Ukraine is sounding atomic alarms for a new generation. 

The prospect of Mr. Putin dipping into his arsenal of battlefield nuclear arms raises the specter of disastrous escalation should NATO retaliate in kind – or the possibility of ushering in a new era in which aggressors can get away with their limited use if it doesn’t.

Mr. Putin could also gain concessions through the mere threat to go nuclear, implicit though it has been. “His standard operating procedure is to inject nuclear weapons into nonnuclear crises – hypothetically to induce restraint in his adversaries and raise anxiety, which might make it easier for him to accomplish his objectives,” says Adam Mount, director of the Defense Posture Project at the Federation of American Scientists.

Particularly given the Biden administration’s efforts to de-escalate when it comes to nuclear rhetoric, analysts stress that the use of such weapons in Ukraine is highly unlikely; keeping it that way will be the challenge in the days and months to come.

“The risk of Russia using a nuclear weapon in Ukraine is very low, and the public concern over nuclear use has far outstripped the nuclear risk,” Dr. Mount says.

And that is in keeping with Mr. Putin’s “escalate to de-escalate” strategy. “In some ways,” Dr. Mount adds, “it’s the threat that’s meant to do more work than the weapon itself.”

Davy Crockett and other “small” atomic weapons

The United States was cavalier about its own development of “small” atomic weapons shortly after the dawn of the nuclear era in the 1950s, when it produced an array of battlefield nuclear land mines, artillery, and warheads. 

“It was this idea that ‘radiation’s not good, but we’ll figure it out later,’” says Nikolai Sokov, senior fellow at the Vienna Center for Disarmament and Non-Proliferation in Austria.

Among the most infamous in this arsenal was the Davy Crockett Tactical Nuclear Weapon, which weighed about 75 pounds and was designed to be launched by a rocket or a gun, giving it a range of less than 3 miles.

Owing in large part to its “finned watermelon” shape, it was, U.S. military developers learned in Nevada tests, highly inaccurate. Still, the Pentagon built some 2,100 of them before phasing it out of service in 1967. 

Russian Defense Ministry Press Service/AP

A Yars intercontinental ballistic missile being launched from an air field during military drills on Feb. 19, 2022. Russian President Vladimir Putin has used the threat of so-called tactical nuclear weapons to raise anxiety and win concessions, what observers call “escalating to de-escalate.”

Should U.S. revive focus on “low-yield” nuclear weapons?

By 1991, the U.S. had eliminated thousands of these weapons from its nuclear arsenal. Today, the U.S. has some 230 tactical nukes, with roughly 100 deployed to Europe, according to a Congressional Research Service report released in February. Russia has an estimated 1,000 to 2,000 tactical warheads.

Former President Donald Trump’s administration argued that America’s reserves of these weapons should once again grow. Gen. John Hyten, then head of U.S. Strategic Command (StratCom), argued in their favor. “If an adversary employs low-yield nuclear weapons on the battlefield, the only option that we have should not just be go big,” he said.

“Low yield” is a bit misleading, however, as many of these weapons are between 8 and 10 kilotons. The bomb that the U.S. used in Hiroshima was roughly 15 kilotons – and killed 80,000 people initially, with thousands more dying later of radiation exposure. “There’s this idea that, ‘Oh, it’s under 10 [kilotons] so it’s not that bad.’ That is definitely a misnomer,” says Shannon Bugos, senior policy analyst at the Arms Control Association.

While some of these tactical nuclear weapons received renewed congressional funding under the Trump administration, the Biden administration has not appeared to be interested in moving forward with the program, analysts say.

Avoiding an escalation in rhetoric

The administration has certainly declined to amp up any rhetoric around tactical nuclear weapons deployment. In response to news reports last month that Mr. Putin put his nuclear forces on “high alert,” Pentagon officials downplayed the tough talk.

When asked about Russia’s potential use of tactical nuclear weapons, a senior defense official, speaking on condition of anonymity in a March 31 background briefing, said that there were “no indications at this time that they’re preparing to use those kinds of weapons.” Pentagon officials have emphasized this point repeatedly. 

Indeed, ultimately reports of the “high alert” status of Russian nuclear forces more accurately translated to a “special regime of combat duty,” suggesting Mr. Putin was staffing up facilities rather than preparing to launch weapons, says Ms. Bugos. 

“There was this breathless nuclear-war-is-right-around-the-corner talk that we saw after Putin’s statement,” she notes. In the arms control community, however, “We were like, ‘Yes, it’s concerning,’ but things we were monitoring, like Russia rolling out it’s nuclear-armed ICBMs [intercontinental ballistic missiles] – we weren’t seeing that. Those are the signs that to us would be a lot stronger marker of Putin contemplating nuclear use.” 

This clarity on the part of the Biden administration is a vital U.S. de-escalation strategy, adds Dr. Pettyjohn, now director of the Defense Program at the Center for a New American Security. “One thing you see time and again in war games is how easy it is to misunderstand an opponent.”

When signals go wrong

A nuclear near-catastrophe in the midst of a 1983 NATO exercise known as Able Archer offers a case in point. Its purpose was to simulate nuclear escalation as allied defense forces moved from DEFCON 5 to DEFCON 1, which signals the outbreak of nuclear war.  

The problem was that exercise was highly realistic and included new codes and the participation of heads of government, leading some Soviet officials to believe it was a ruse for an actual first strike. 

In response, the USSR began loading nuclear warheads onto its combat planes. The threat abated when the U.S. military advised against responding in kind or putting NATO forces on a similar state of high alert, and the exercise ended. 

Perhaps with this bit of military history in mind, Defense Secretary Lloyd Austin recently ordered the postponement of a scheduled Minuteman III ICBM test. 

“Part of our test planning includes over-communicating what we’re doing,” Vice Adm. Jon Hill, director of the Missile Defense Agency, said in a March 28 Pentagon briefing. “If I’m told to back off or delay or change [weapons tests], we will do that,” he said. “We have to be concerned about political-military concerns all the time.” 

Response “would have to be asymmetric”

That’s in large part because, though Mr. Putin does not appear to be preparing to use it, Russia’s nuclear arsenal is, like America’s, well-maintained and ready to go. 

The final steps rather simply involve moving the warheads from their storage facilities to “mate” them with their “nuclear delivery vehicles,” as the process is known in Pentagon parlance. This does, however, offer a small window for de-escalation.

“It’s reassuring in the sense that you can actually see warheads being moved, and then you have a couple of hours to contact the other side,” says Dr. Sokov.

Still, U.S. military planners are working around the clock to offer responses for a worst-case scenario, such as “if Putin uses a nuke – or nukes plural,” says retired Col. Robert Killebrew, a former instructor in strategy at the U.S. Army War College who wrote a book about the relationship between nuclear and nonnuclear warfare. 

Mr. Killebrew estimates that NATO forces “wouldn’t respond in kind” in Ukraine since it would grievously harm civilians and cause the U.S. to lose the support “of about half of NATO right away.” 

As a result, “The response would have to be asymmetric,” he says. “And it would have to be devastating.”

The Pentagon is likely “looking for pressure points outside the immediate theater, like the Russian Navy,” Mr. Killebrew adds. “We might sink their Black Sea fleet. We have ships in the Black Sea also. The Russian Navy against the U.S. would last about 30 minutes.” 

Envisioning a new treaty

Averting any such scenarios is the challenge for the short term. In the long run, arms control experts express hope that these nuclear scares for a new generation could inspire the world to begin limiting such weapons of mass destruction, particularly since low-yield nuclear weapons haven’t been addressed in past nonproliferation treaties. 

While the U.S. tended to support slashing their stockpiles, the Russians long relied on low-yield nukes to compensate for their own lack of conventional weapons relative to the U.S., says Dr. Mount of the Federation of American Scientists.

Russia would like the U.S. to reduce its stockpile of conventional arms in exchange, which so far the U.S. has been unwilling to do.  

These mutual interests – and the war in Ukraine – could ultimately serve as impetuses to bring the superpowers back to the negotiating table. 

Simply getting discussions underway would improve international stability, says Dr. Sokov, particularly with New START nuclear nonproliferation set to expire in 2026. 

He worked on negotiations for the START 1 treaty, which went into effect in 1994. In those days, the political atmosphere was “very favorable” and it still took them four years to hammer out the details, even as Russian and U.S. negotiators “worked in complete harmony, really.”

This is not likely to be the case in the years to come, but it would be “a very good development,” he says, “if we could just see these negotiations begin.”

Editor’s note: This article has been updated to correct the spelling of Nikolai Sokov’s name.

Jose Luis Gonzalez/Reuters

An electoral worker counts ballots before the announcement of the result of Mexico's referendum on whether President Andrés Manuel López Obrador should serve out the rest of his term, in Ciudad Juárez, Mexico, April 10, 2022.

President Andrés Manuel López Obrador survived a recall vote over the weekend with nearly 92% of those who voted saying he should “continue in the presidency of the Republic until his term ends.”

It was Mexico’s first-ever recall vote, and the president, with his approval polling at 60%, was never seriously at risk of being booted from office. In fact, Mr. López Obrador was one of the biggest proponents of the vote, known as the revocación de mandato.

Partly for that reason, turnout among Mexican voters did not even reach 18%. So what was the point?

For some, including the president, the recall was a new, important democratic tool that puts power in the hands of the people as Mexico’s two-decade-old democracy matures. But for critics, the vote was an unnecessary populist publicity stunt designed either to feed the president’s ego or to allow him to promote himself and his party and garner ammunition to defend future policy moves.

“Democracy needs to become a habit,” President López Obrador, often referred to by his initials, AMLO, said after casting his ballot Sunday morning. “That way no one on any scale is going to feel absolute.”

He expanded on the theme at his Monday morning press conference. “We are in a new stage, not only of representative democracy, but of participative democracy,” he said.

Introducing a recall that could take place halfway through a president’s six-year term was one of Mr. López Obrador’s campaign promises before his election as president in 2018. Instruments of direct democracy have played a central role in his presidency and earlier, when he was mayor of Mexico City.

Yet the recall cost upward of $78 million at a time the government is imposing austerity measures. A February poll indicated that some 50% of Mexicans didn’t think it was necessary.

AMLO’s declaration of victory, despite turnout not reaching the 40% participation threshold required to make the vote binding, raises questions about what his “win” truly means – for the rest of his administration and the future of Mexican democracy.

In celebrating his victory at his press conference, the president said the required participation to make a referendum binding should be lowered to 20% or 30%.

Mr. López Obrador won in 2018 on a platform of bold promises to transform Mexico – root out corruption, lift up poor people, create more jobs, and change the country’s approach to fighting violence. But halfway through his term, he hasn’t delivered on many of these pledges. Amid the pandemic, poverty still rankles Mexico and violence hasn’t abated.

“In a way he won just by getting to hold the recall,” says Jeffrey Weldon, a political science professor at the Autonomous Technological Institute of Mexico in Mexico City. “He is someone who really needs to have love shown to him.”

What will it change?

On Sunday morning, Erika Ramos, an administrative assistant in Mexico City, waited for a hair appointment outside a salon instead of voting in the recall.

“Why bother? It won’t change anything,” she says, adding that she voted for Mr. López Obrador for president but now describes her support as “lukewarm.”

Gustavo Graf/Reuters

Mexican President Andrés Manuel López Obrador gestures at a news conference at the National Palace in Mexico City, April 11, 2022. Nearly 92% of those who voted in a recall election supported his staying in office.

While the opposition vocally criticized the recall, there was no organized effort to take advantage of the vote to try to push AMLO from office. Many told voters merely to boycott the procedure.

“They expected, in a sense, that they wouldn’t win. So why spend the money and time to just give [AMLO] a better showing” via high turnout, says Joshua Spivak, a global expert in recall votes and author of “Recall Elections: From Alexander Hamilton to Gavin Newsom.”

Turnout was low compared with most elections, but higher than what many observers expected. Only 7% of voters turned up for the last referendum vote, which took place in 2021, on whether former presidents should face justice for alleged misdeeds while in office.

Leading up to the vote, some critics feared that low turnout could be used to discredit the National Electoral Institute, and potentially undermine the results of future elections. The country’s electoral watchdog set up the recall vote with nearly half the budget typically allotted for an election, and Mr. López Obrador has spent the past several months attacking the organization and its arrangements.

The recall may serve as a bump for AMLO, but analysts like Luis Carlos Ugalde, president of Mexico-based Integralia Consultores, say the introduction of a recall could change the rules of the game for future presidents.

“Right now we have a very popular president, his mandate is not in jeopardy, but what about ... when the next revocación de mandato may take place?” Mr. Ugalde asked in a Wilson Center panel discussion on the recall last week.

“Of course, this can be an instrument of the people. But let’s be clear, the civic culture in Mexico is small,” he said. “This could be an instrument for instability.”

It could also change how future presidents plan their policy approach, he says. The six-year term suddenly “becomes four years and a plus of two additional years if you pass the revocación,” Mr. Ugalde said. “I think it will change forever how the logic of presidential politics work in Mexico.”

Governments around the world may have legal pathways for pushing an unpopular leader out of office, but they’re typically limited to state or local politicians – not commonly for presidents.

In introducing this recall tool, which can only be tapped halfway through a president’s term and requires gathering some 2.75 million signatures to put into action, Mexico joins the ranks of some of the poster children of democratic struggles in the region, like Venezuela and Bolivia, both of which have held recall votes.

“When he sent this bill to Congress in 2019, AMLO thought that there would be huge numbers of people demanding his removal from office, that the opposition would be mobilizing Mexicans to do that,” Professor Weldon says, calling the vote “irrelevant.”

“He has a lot of critics, but very few are demanding that he leave office.”

Missed chance for debate

Some warn that Mr. López Obrador’s victory could cloud an important missed opportunity to publicly dissect his record during the first half of his term.

“The real danger is that everybody will forget [his win] except him, who will push it,” says Mr. Spivak. “’The voters gave me a stamp, they verified my policies, they like it. Let’s do more!’”

Indeed, in a recorded victory speech late Sunday night, AMLO said as much. “More than 15 million Mexicans are happy and want me to continue,” he said. “I’m staying, and we are going to continue transforming our country.”

The vote was presented as a chance to “ratify AMLO, instead of looking at what he’s actually done,” adds Professor Weldon. “He will use this to continue his path of polarization.” As a populist president, AMLO “needs this gasoline to keep his base alive,” he says.

But Rafa Flores, an engineer in the northern city of Monterrey, disagrees. He voted to keep AMLO in office and is thrilled that Mexicans will have a new tool in their arsenal to further develop democratic participation.

“Some people see it as useless, egotistical, a waste of money,” says Mr. Flores by phone. “This is part of a maturing democracy. I hope that people will get used to being consulted on how their government is doing and delivering.”

Imagine putting on a virtual reality headset and attending a meeting, playing virtual chess with friends, or enjoying a concert from the comfort of your living room as a hyperrealistic avatar. Sounds fun and easy, right? Tech giants hope so – and that’s why they are investing billions of dollars in a place called the “metaverse.”  

The only thing is the metaverse doesn’t exist yet and probably won’t anytime soon. So why are companies banking on this technological long shot? And why do they think it holds incredible transformative potential?

What is the metaverse, exactly?

The metaverse is a kind of virtual interactive realm, but it goes beyond just another social media site that allows users from anywhere to interact with each other. The metaverse uses virtual reality and augmented reality to mimic the way people interact in the real world. 

“In the 3D metaverse, we [the participant or player] feel ‘present’ in the space with relative freedom to move about, look around, and even interact with its content and inhabitants,” says Norm Badler, a metaverse researcher at Cesium, a Philadelphia-based 3D geospatial software company. “The latter may be avatars of other live participants, automatically controlled entities [humanlike or otherwise], or pre-created [and stored] animated versions of ourselves,” he adds in an email.  

If that concept sounds like a plot from a sci-fi story, that’s because it is. “Metaverse” was coined by Neal Stephenson in his 1992 novel “Snow Crash,” which centered on a 3D virtual world inhabited by user-controlled ​​avatars.

And now the pandemic – which left many people stuck at home yearning for connection to the outside world – has accelerated a shift in thinking about virtual connections. CEO Mark Zuckerberg used the opportunity to rebrand his company, from Facebook to Meta, as a way to prepare for “the next chapter for the internet,” as he described it in an October announcement.

Why should you care about the metaverse?

In short, because you are going to be seeing a lot more immersive technology everywhere. Examples range from Facebook’s Meta transformation to Apple’s coming AR headset to Microsoft Mesh’s virtual collaboration across multiple devices.

Companies are racing to “articulate their vision of a future dependent on immersive media and create immersive worlds and experiences,” says Lisa Messeri, assistant professor of sociocultural anthropology at Yale University, who studies virtual reality. 

The market for metaverse technologies topped $49 billion in 2020 and is expected to grow by more than 40% each year, according to Emergen Research’s November 2021 report.

Beyond social media platforms, other research fields have also begun to recognize the benefits of the metaverse. For example, Deborah Richards, professor at the school of computing at Macquarie University in Sydney, Australia, says virtual reality simulations have been effective when treating depression and post-traumatic stress disorder. In some cases, virtual interviewers have outperformed human therapists when trying to help members of the military open up about their mental health. 

Yet, metaverse technology also raises concerns – over privacy, autonomy, and equitable access and justice – that need to be further addressed, she says. 

What will the metaverse really change?

Metaverse technology has begun to transform the way we travel or learn. More K-12 schools are bringing virtual reality into their curriculum for a more interactive classroom experience. Hyundai envisions Boston Dynamics’ Spot, the quadruped robot, acting as people’s eyes and hands while exploring places they couldn’t reach, like Mars.

The technology can also help engineers and designers better understand the structure of complex systems through immersive and interactive models. Software company Unity recently built a virtual Vancouver International Airport and nearby conservation lands to better understand the environment and potential issues that could arise. Timoni West, vice president of VR and AR at Unity, says advances in the next 50 years will make the digital idea behind the metaverse even more common in everyday uses. 

The rise of virtual places and the ability to own real digital content “has as much importance as the physical world,” the Unity executive says.

When Mohammad Agha Mohammadi made Qabili palau, the national dish of Afghanistan, he called his mother. He wanted to make sure he had the right balance of cardamom and cumin.

“I speak to my parents every day. I text them also,” Mr. Mohammadi says.

For now, phone calls and texts will have to suffice. His parents and five siblings remain stuck in Kabul, and he doesn’t know when they will be reunited.

Mr. Mohammadi, age 20, is one of more than 80,000 Afghans airlifted to the United States after Afghanistan fell to the Taliban last August. He is also one of nearly 360 Afghans being helped through the Sponsor Circle Program for Afghan refugees, a pioneering resettlement program that invites everyday Americans like Gerard and Eileen Monaghan of New Milford to get involved.

“I know people say we are a melting pot, but I think we are more like a stew. All the individuals who come here are making the country a better place,” Mr. Monaghan says.

Each circle is made up of at least five adults in the same community. After passing a background check, those people help individuals access housing, enroll children in school, and find jobs and English classes if needed. Each circle must raise a minimum of $2,275 per refugee it welcomes.

The Monaghans and their circle raised more than $6,000 for clothes, school, and a car for when Mr. Mohammadi gets his driver’s license so he can eventually drive to school. 

They also offer friendship and moral support.

“Mohammad asked me why I’m doing this. I told him I can’t do anything for the millions there who are starving and have hardship, but I can take you and get you going. It’s a drop in the bucket. But it’s a drop,” Ms. Monaghan says.

Rethinking resettlement

Developed in partnership with the Community Sponsorship Hub (CSH), a project of the Rockefeller Philanthropy Advisers, the U.S. State Department-supported program was born of necessity.

Traditionally, refugees and humanitarian parolees go through the U.S. resettlement network, which was established via the 1980 Refugee Act. During the Trump administration, about one-third of the 200 resettlement agencies closed, as the cap on refugees to the U.S. was reduced to an all-time low. The network was decimated, says Isabel Burton, senior director of community engagement initiatives at the HIAS, which helps resettle refugees around the world.

“When Afghanistan fell we [HIAS] only had the capacity to resettle about 35,000. So we looked around and asked how we fill that gap,” Ms. Burton says. “The answer lay in Sponsor Circles, an idea that was already gaining traction among those in the resettlement community. We sped the program up and pulled out all the stops.”

In addition to HIAS, CSH worked with several nonprofit organizations and private businesses, including Airbnb.org, Episcopal Migration Ministries, the International Rescue Committee, and RefugePoint.

Cathryn J. Prince

Eileen Monaghan (far left), Mohammad Agha Mohammadi, Brian Whitfield, and Gerard Monaghan (far right) gather in the Monaghans’ living room in New Milford, Connecticut, March 1, 2022. The Monaghans and Mr. Whitfield are supporting Mr. Mohammadi's resettlement in the U.S. through a federal program for Afghan refugees.

“I hope this opportunity to welcome Afghans is something that can embed this value of welcome in communities and states across the country in a much more profound way than currently exists,” Sasha Chanoff, CEO and founder of the nonprofit RefugePoint and a recipient of The Charles Bronfman Prize for humanitarian work, says. “The idea for the program is that it expands to helping other refugee populations.”

Fleeing the Taliban – twice

Mr. Mohammadi was born in Tehran, Iran, where his parents had sought refuge during the first Taliban era. That was in 2001, shortly before the U.S. invaded Afghanistan. Two years later, the family returned to Kabul.

In 2018 Mr. Mohammadi became the first in his family to finish high school. Having learned English in school, he started taking Chinese-language lessons at a private university. His father continued to work at a local K-8 private school for girls and boys. His mother was busy with his siblings, the youngest of whom is 5.

Over time the situation grew more precarious.

“Until a week before the Taliban came we didn’t think of leaving,” Mr. Mohammadi says.

On Aug. 25, Mr. Mohammadi and his cousin made their way to Hamid Karzai International Airport.

“It was 10 o’clock at night. My father told me to go. I took my clothes and documents. That’s it. There was no time,” Mr. Mohammadi says.

The rest of the family planned to join him the following night. But the airport closed when a suicide bomber struck outside the Abbey Gate, killing 170 civilians and 13 U.S. service members.

A few days later Mr. Mohammadi and his cousin were sitting on the floor of a C-17 with several hundred other people. The plane refueled in Kuwait before landing at Fort Pickett, Virginia, on Sept. 1.

“I met a lot of people. The Marines were nice. The thing that I noticed was the humanity of the people and the freedom here,” Mr. Mohammadi says.

As kind as the U.S. Marines were and as safe as he felt, he grew impatient to go beyond the base. After five months of awaiting screening and resettlement instructions he learned he’d be leaving.

The Monaghans picked up Mr. Mohammadi at Bradley International Airport shortly after noon on Jan. 29. He had been up since 2 a.m. His first meal with them was a McDonald’s spicy chicken sandwich. One month later, he’s been settling in.

One of the first things Mr. Mohammadi got when he arrived in this small Connecticut town on the banks of the Housatonic River was a library card.

He’s since gotten his Social Security card, and enrolled in health insurance and SNAP. He also has his learner’s permit and is practicing driving. He will enroll in summer classes at Western Connecticut State University, putting him one step closer to getting his undergraduate degree in accounting.

Although he and the Monaghans spend a couple of hours every day making plans and phone calls, he’s found time for a bit of travel.

Mr. Mohammadi took the train to Alexandria, Virginia, to visit family.

“He was a little nervous about the train, but I said if you could get out of Kabul you can get on Amtrak,” Ms. Monaghan says.

He’s also visited a cousin in Lenox, Massachusetts, and the Monaghans’ son in Boston.

“I love Boston. I want to go to Harvard for my MBA,” he says.

More help on the way?

Now that the first phase of Operation Allies Welcome is complete – the last Afghans left military bases early February – RefugePoint is focused on the next phase of this operation. The U.S. government will continue welcoming Afghans from overseas safe havens, who have been fully screened and vetted, to a domestic facility. 

While Afghans who worked with the U.S. government received Special Immigrant Visas allowing them permanent residency and federal funds to help begin anew, others like Mr. Mohammadi are humanitarian parolees. This means they can stay in the U.S. for up to two years. Advocates are lobbying Congress to pass the Afghan Adjustment Act, which would expand the qualifications for blanket refugee status to more evacuees – like Mr. Mohammadi.

Between making calls to advance paperwork and find a job, Mr. Mohammadi plays Monopoly and Uno. He’s bonded with Mr. Monaghan over “The Outpost” – a film adapted from Jake Tapper’s book – and the movie “We Were Soldiers Once and Young.”

“I look at Mohammad and I can see the great things he will do here,” Mr. Monaghan says.

Editor’s note: The name of the 1980 Refugee Act has been corrected as well as the term for parolees.

REUTERS

A mother and daughter look out their house in a flooded area of Lopburi province, Thailand, last year.

In the summer of 1993, a Mississippi river town was submerged when two massive floods in a single month broke over the levees that were built after several other destructive floods. With 90% of their buildings damaged, the residents of Valmeyer made a bold decision: The entire town got up and moved to higher ground. Now, three decades later, Valmeyer is the poster child for a growing number of communities that are considering “managed retreat” – planned rather than forced relocation – from increasingly menacing seas and rivers as well as extreme storms.

“The first priority ought to be to move the people out of the way,” Valmeyer adviser Bill Becker told The Progressive magazine. “We could build expensive dams, levees, and seawalls to protect vulnerable communities, built to standards that may well fail the next time a storm breaks a record,” or, he added, we could heed the wisdom of “giving the floodplain back to the river.”

Indeed, government buyouts of flood-prone properties, long considered a radical response, are now proving to be more cost-effective than levees and repetitive building.

Of all climate disasters, floods present the highest costs and existential risks worldwide, affecting “nearly a third of the world population, more than any other peril,” according to a statement by Martin Bertogg, head of catastrophe perils at Swiss Re, the global reinsurance company.

The Columbia Climate School in New York says that by the end of this century 13 million Americans could be displaced by sea level rise. But with foresight and planning, many communities could avoid forced displacement through adaptation using nature-based infrastructure. For example, in the center of Bangkok – a city built on wetlands and subject to heavy rains – landscape architect Kotchakorn Voraakhom has designed a park whose primary function is to gather, store, filter, and slowly release floodwaters in ways that serve people. Sloping buildings, roof gardens, wetlands, and vast underground reservoirs are joined by pervious walkways through a lush landscape leading to a museum, cafes, and other functional spaces.

In an interview with The New York Times, Ms. Voraakhom explained, “Right now, when we build for floods in Thailand, we see it with fear. We’re building dams higher and higher. That’s how you often deal with uncertainty – with fear. You need to deal with uncertainty with flexibility, with understanding. It’s OK to flood, and it’s OK to be ‘weak.’ That means resilience. With that mind-set, you create designs that talk with nature.”

“Higher ground” has come to mean more than climbing up the literal hill behind us. It means cultivating the new ground of a changed perspective and the creativity that comes with that new perspective: It’s moving out on the water as the Dutch are now pioneering in their floating communities; it’s directing water into “sponge parks” as Manchester, England, is planning; it’s nature-based infrastructures that clean our water, revive biodiversity, and reacquaint us with nature’s beauty.

Despite floods being the costliest and most common disaster in the United States, few states have developed adequate flood plans based on future rather than historical data. And yet, given the recently enacted Infrastructure Investment and Jobs Act that includes $50 billion for climate resiliency programs along with other federal funding programs, states now have a unique opportunity to develop plans that will translate into real action.

Well-recognized expert on climate change adaptation, Dr. A.R. Siders of the Disaster Research Center at the University of Delaware, sums up the challenges before us: “It is such an opportunity to redesign the way we live with nature and with floods, and completely change how we deal with risk.” That kind of risk response earns the badge of resilience.