On a dusty roadside along Quetta’s eastern bypass, 22-year-old Noor Ahmad sits beneath the shade of a truck carrying household belongings, scrolling through TikTok videos on his mobile phone. Just a year ago, he was working in the fields of Nushki district, harvesting onions alongside his family. Today, he survives on daily wage labour in Quetta after prolonged drought, water shortages, and repeated crop failures forced his family to leave their village behind.
Noor Ahmad says his migration journey did not begin with a government relocation programme or assistance from humanitarian organisations. Instead, it began with short videos appearing on his phone screen. Through TikTok and Facebook pages, he watched clips of workers discussing jobs in Quetta and Karachi, explaining where cheap rooms could be rented and which areas were safer after floods and droughts. For weeks, his family followed these pages before deciding to leave their village.
Across Pakistan and other South Asian countries, climate migration is increasingly unfolding not only through physical movement but also through digital networks. Families displaced by floods, droughts, extreme heat, and collapsing livelihoods are relying on WhatsApp groups, TikTok creators, Facebook pages, and mobile internet to navigate survival. Mobile phones are quietly becoming one of the most important tools for climate migrants trying to rebuild their lives.
These online networks now influence major migration decisions. People use them to identify destinations, contact labour contractors, locate transportation, search for rental housing, and access information about aid distribution. In many cases, migrants trust these informal digital communities more than official announcements because they receive faster updates from people facing similar conditions.
Experts say the relationship between climate migration and digital technology remains largely underreported in South Asia despite its growing importance.
According to Pakistan’s National Disaster Management Authority, the devastating 2022 floods affected more than 33 million people, damaging homes, farmland, roads, schools, and water systems across the country. In Balochistan and Sindh, many displaced families migrated toward urban centres including Quetta, Karachi, Hyderabad, and Hub. While some initially planned to return home after floodwaters receded, many eventually settled permanently because their agricultural livelihoods collapsed.
At the same time, mobile internet access has expanded rapidly across Pakistan. Data from the Pakistan Telecommunication Authority shows broadband subscriptions have crossed 130 million, with smartphone use increasing even among low-income and rural populations. In climate-affected communities where access to formal support systems remains weak, mobile phones have become essential survival tools alongside food, water, and transport.
In Jaffarabad district, where floodwaters submerged villages and destroyed farmland during the 2022 disaster, residents say Facebook and WhatsApp groups became unexpected sources of information and support. Families exchanged updates about relief camps, ration distributions, transportation costs, and job opportunities in nearby cities. Women especially relied on digital groups to share safety information and discuss conditions inside temporary shelters.
Shazia Bibi, a mother of four now living in a rented room near Hub, recalls joining several WhatsApp groups created by displaced women after her village remained underwater for weeks. Through these groups, women shared updates about available aid, schools accepting displaced children, and areas where landlords were offering cheaper accommodation.
“Sometimes women posted videos warning others not to go to certain camps because conditions there were unsafe,” she says. “We did not know anyone in Hub, but through mobile phones we started understanding where we could survive.”
Her family originally believed they would eventually return to their village. However, repeated crop losses, mounting debt, and worsening water scarcity gradually made permanent return impossible. Today, her children attend school in Hub, while her husband works as a labourer at construction sites.
“We still call ourselves flood victims,” she says softly. “But this city has become our home now.”
Migration researchers say this transition from temporary displacement to long-term urban migration is becoming increasingly common across climate-vulnerable parts of South Asia. Climate disasters that once caused short-term movement are now permanently reshaping population patterns and urban growth.
Dr. Hassan Abbas, an urban migration researcher based in Islamabad, says digital platforms are transforming migration decisions in ways policymakers barely understand.
“Traditionally, people relied on relatives, transport agents, or local middlemen for migration information,” he explains. “Now a worker in Karachi can upload a short video about available jobs, and within hours people in flood-hit villages hundreds of kilometres away are discussing migration based on that content.”
However, researchers warn that these digital systems are highly unreliable and often dangerous. Many migrants arrive in cities expecting stable employment or affordable housing based on misleading online content. Videos promoting urban jobs frequently hide the harsh realities of overcrowded settlements, low wages, exploitation, and unemployment.
Sajid Ali, who migrated from Dera Murad Jamali after repeated heatwaves damaged his family’s wheat production, says TikTok videos played a major role in convincing him to move to Karachi.
“The videos showed clean rooms, stable salaries, and factory jobs,” he says. “But when we arrived, twelve men were living inside one small room and there was no permanent work.”
Eventually, he found temporary work unloading trucks at a wholesale market, but says life remains unstable. Even so, he admits social media gave him the confidence to migrate when local livelihoods disappeared.
Similar digital migration trends are appearing across South Asia. In Bangladesh, displaced coastal communities increasingly use Facebook Messenger and mobile banking applications to coordinate movement after cyclones and salinity-related crop failures. In Nepal, labour migrants from climate-affected mountain regions rely on YouTube channels and WhatsApp groups for employment contacts and migration advice.
Despite these changes, journalism across the region still largely portrays climate migration through images of floods, tents, and humanitarian crises. Much less attention is given to the long-term realities migrants face after leaving home, including how they adapt, survive, and rebuild their lives in unfamiliar urban environments.
Media analyst Reetika Subramanian says climate migration coverage often reduces people to symbols of disaster rather than documenting the complexity of migration experiences.
“Most stories stop at displacement camps or flood visuals,” she says. “But migration is a much longer story. Journalists rarely investigate how families make decisions, how they survive in cities, or how digital information shapes their movement.”
For many migrants, social media platforms also serve as emotional support systems. Families separated from relatives and villages use TikTok, Facebook, and WhatsApp not only for practical information but also for maintaining a sense of identity and community.
In informal settlements around Quetta, migrants from drought-hit districts follow local TikTok creators who regularly upload updates about water tanker prices, police activity, transport routes, and labour opportunities. Some creators warn workers about fraudulent employers or unsafe transport operators targeting vulnerable migrants.
These digital networks often function like informal community noticeboards operating outside state institutions.
“People trust local creators because they speak their language and understand their struggles,” says digital rights researcher Farzana Khan. “Government communication often fails to reach vulnerable communities quickly, especially in remote areas. Social media fills that information gap, even when the information is not always accurate.”
The spread of misinformation, however, remains a serious concern. During the 2022 floods, false videos and recycled disaster footage circulated widely across social media platforms, creating panic and confusion among displaced communities. Aid workers in Sindh reported cases where families travelled long distances after viral WhatsApp messages falsely claimed food distributions or housing assistance programmes were available.
In one documented incident near Sehwan, dozens of displaced families gathered after online rumours claimed international organisations were distributing permanent housing support. No such programme existed.
Researchers say vulnerable communities become increasingly dependent on informal digital networks when reliable public information systems are weak or inaccessible.
There are also growing concerns about exploitation through online platforms. Several migrants interviewed for this story described encountering fake job advertisements, fraudulent transport offers, and accommodation scams through social media. Women migrants often face additional risks of harassment and abuse in online groups.
Digital safety trainer Sanaullah Baloch says climate migrants are especially vulnerable because many arrive in cities with little understanding of urban systems or digital security.
“When people are desperate for work, shelter, or food, they trust information very quickly,” he says. “Scammers understand this vulnerability.”
Despite these risks, migrants continue relying on digital platforms because formal support systems remain limited. Pakistan still lacks a dedicated national framework specifically addressing climate-induced internal migration. Existing disaster response mechanisms mainly focus on emergency relief rather than long-term urban integration, housing, or employment support for displaced populations.
The Internal Displacement Monitoring Centre estimates that millions of weather-related displacements occur annually across South Asia, many gradually becoming permanent migration. Researchers believe actual figures may be much higher because long-term climate migration remains difficult to measure accurately.
For journalists, these realities present an important challenge. Climate migration reporting in South Asia often portrays displaced people either as helpless victims or as burdens on cities. Yet conversations with migrants reveal much more complicated realities shaped by resilience, adaptation, survival strategies, and digital innovation.
“We need to stop seeing climate migrants only through the language of crisis,” says Dr. Abbas. “Many people are rebuilding their lives with extraordinary creativity. Technology has become part of that adaptation process.”
Back in Quetta, Noor Ahmad now spends his evenings helping newer arrivals from his village navigate urban life through WhatsApp voice messages. He shares information about labour opportunities, available rental rooms, and neighbourhoods facing water shortages or police crackdowns.
“When we first arrived, other people guided us online,” he says. “Now we guide others.”
His family still hopes conditions in Nushki might improve someday, but after years of drought he no longer speaks confidently about returning home. Instead, conversations now revolve around internet packages, mobile signals, and whether enough work can be found in the city to survive another month.
Climate migration in South Asia is often discussed through the language of disasters, displacement, and borders. Increasingly, however, it is also being shaped by mobile phones, forwarded messages, livestreams, and short videos watched on cracked screens inside overcrowded settlements.
The future of climate mobility may depend not only on who can move, but also on who can stay connected.
