Study collects Icelandic community perspectives on environmental health, 100 years in the future
Michelle Ritchie remembers being in Iceland in 2013. When she returned 10 years later, though, things looked a lot different.
Michelle Ritchie poses for a photo at Black Diamond Beach, the glacial tongue, in 2013.
Standing on Black Diamond Beach, the glacial tongue—a sheet of ice that extends out of the bottom of a glacier—was several hundred feet further away; icebergs that were around in 2013 were gone and coal-powered boats were traveling across the water; a parking lot that didn’t exist before was fully paved; and people were walking beyond the newly designated paths, trampling ancient mosses, which can take centuries to regrow.
The changes brought her to tears, but they also reinforced her research passion: Understanding the Arctic’s changing environment and how natural resources and community can be protected.
“It’s a reminder that, because things are happening so much faster in the Arctic, we need to understand how communities will deal with these changes,” said Ritchie, assistant professor in the College of Public Health’s Institute for Disaster Management. “We need to understand what we can do—or maybe not do—as different changes take place elsewhere.”
It’s changes like that that made her want to start her research. In a new study, published in Challenges—Journal of Planetary Health, Ritchie spoke with 63 Icelandic community members about their hopes for the future and goals for protecting it.
Michelle Ritchie poses for a photo at Black Diamond Beach, the glacial tongue, in 2023.
Building from a positive vision
Interviewees were asked to picture the year 2100 with a thriving community and environment. The goal was to understand what changes people envision to get to that positive future.
“I wanted to hear what they wanted for their community,” Ritchie said. “Asking to envision a positive future is a way to almost reverse engineer a plan—you start from the goal and then work back to target action items.”
Responses were a mixed bag. While some interviewees pictured a zero-waste utopia, others only saw dystopias with overpopulation and environmental hazards.
Among visions of flying cars, no more diesel engines and futuristic technologies, respondents also looked at the practical successes of today. Renewable energy and reforestation, a practice that’s already underway in Iceland, also came up.
Participants described futures with “more trees and flowers” and connected neighborhoods where green space was integrated in their daily life. But they also acknowledged the challenges of an isolated environment.
“Even in a positive future, where everything is great, people didn’t think they lived in a world without hazards or the potential for disaster,” Ritchie said. “Rather, they had more respect for the environment and acknowledged the need to listen to place-based risk because they are in space that is hazardous.”
There are also options to build on elements of community. These small, remote towns have a strong social network and work to meet everyone’s basic needs.
“We’re used to thunderstorms, but they’re used to intense winter storms, avalanches, and roads being completely shut down,” Ritchie said. “That’s kind of the norm, and reflects a resilience that’s been shaped over time in response to place-based risks.”
Authenticity and action
Alongside looking at common themes, researchers also ran a linguistic analysis of the interview transcripts. The software revealed that people spoke in an informal, conversational style, more like talking with friends than giving a prepared speech, Ritchie said. They were also marked by a high level of authenticity and honesty.
“That authenticity is what made the interviews so powerful,” Ritchie said. “It showed us that people weren’t just repeating what they thought we wanted to hear—they were sharing what they really felt.”
At the same time, the overall emotional tone leaned negative, with many struggling to imagine a truly hopeful future.
Interviewees who only saw a tragic future were the most surprising, Ritchie said, but their responses showed the importance of bringing community members into these discussions.
“I think I was most surprised by the number of folks who couldn’t picture a positive future,” Ritchie said. “It let me know that the question of ‘What motivates change’ is just as important as the change itself. Because when you look at motivation, you can address the culture behind the change that allows the change to systemically make it through a community.”
That authenticity—the candid mix of hope, fear, and uncertainty—was what made the interviews valuable. Hearing directly from residents revealed truths and lived experiences that statistics alone could not. For Ritchie, it underscored that climate adaptation is not just about infrastructure and policy, but about dialogue and trust.
“By asking people to imagine the year 2100, we didn’t just get abstract ideas about climate change,” she said. “We got to hear what matters most to them—their families, their towns, the ways they connect with the land.”
She hopes the study is a reminder that listening to communities can uncover motivations, anxieties, and hopes that make adaptation more sustainable.
“In the end, it’s not only about projecting the future,” Ritchie said. “It’s about talking with people—really listening—so we can build futures together that reflect what communities truly need and value.”
By Erica Techo
