Just a few weeks ago, Pakistan celebrated its 78th Independence Day with pomp and vigour, only for the nation to be met with its biggest civic failure as floods ravaged the nation. Owing to the lack of warning alarms, technical failures, disagreements over flood semantics, poor flood management infrastructures in place, and unpreparedness of authorities and civilians alike, such a degree of relentless devastation and rising death toll with over 800 dead in Khyber Pakhtunkhwa and Punjab due to flash floods, landslides, and monsoon rains, were to be expected.
In Khyber Pakhtunkhwa (KP) alone, 325 civilian casualties have been reported, with hundreds missing as entire villages lay deluged under flood debris. This holds especially in the Buner district, which has emerged as the epicenter of the catastrophe in the province.
Furthermore, Punjab faces a similar crisis as widespread flood alerts can be heard not just near small towns across river embankments but major cities like Lahore. As major riverine communities across Bahawalnagar, Shandara, and Kasur remain on high alert, the cause of these intense floods can be attributed to the increased swelling of the Chenab, Ravi, and Sutlej rivers. This is also due to India releasing excess water into Pakistan’s downstream regions in light of recent political tensions and the former’s unilateral suspension of the Indus Water Treaty. Although one must admit that India did take the chance to warn Pakistan about the expected floods as it opened its barrages.
A regional dimension to the cross-border climate crisis is that rivers running across two countries where regional tensions are strained require an all-weather system that maintains open communication during the flooding season. This holds especially true when water in dams and barrages is to be released between nations, so an alert system must be in place, regardless of whether hostilities are high or low, to prevent mass casualties due to unpreparedness. One such recommendation could be to revive the defunct Indus Water Commission. Still, with the suspension of the Indus Water Treaty, there is a pressing need to establish an authority of a similar nature.
While Punjab Chief Minister Maryam Nawaz vows compensation for the flood-affected, as rescue teams have been deployed via relief helicopters, the sheer loss of lives that could have been prevented if proper warning systems were in place is not so easily compensated. Rather, the sheer scale of the crisis, as further rain forecasts loom ahead, in comparison to the meagre, albeit relentless, flood relief, almost seems tokenistic. Not to forget that displacement and death by water-borne diseases are inevitable and not easy to compensate for. While Prime Minister Shehbaz Sharif calls for national unity, the reality is that the devastation has exposed our inadequate disaster response and institutional shortcomings, as investment in dams and storage infrastructure has long been overdue.
Furthermore, public complacency and the authorities’ reluctance to ensure preventative ad hoc measures are astounding, given that Pakistan in recent years has annually been the victim of devastating flooding. One such form of public complacency that recently gained notoriety was that, despite flood alerts, tourists decided to travel to flood-prone KP, resulting in 1,300 individuals having to be airlifted from Mansehra alone. However, one must ponder that such rescue efforts could have been diverted towards locals who were stranded in areas where flooding was inevitable, especially riverine towns and villages. Such a reckless attitude only gives birth to a sense of entitlement, and while one must not compare the value of lives saved or lost, what about the regrets of those who could have been saved if such carelessness had been avoided? Had the state invested in flood rescue infrastructure, countless lives could surely have been saved. Additionally, had this infrastructure been made more accessible in remote regions, the impact would have been even greater.
A more interesting development and institutional drawback also emerged in the midst of the devastation, as tensions brewed over semantics and terminology between authorities. Khyber Pakhtunkhwa’s Provincial Disaster Management Authority (PDMA) was quick to assert that the cause of the extreme floods in KP was due to the concept of ‘cloudbursts’, which internationally refers to over 100mm of rain falling in an hour over a limited area of 30 km, creating perfect conditions for flooding. However, Pakistan’s Meteorological Department (PMD) was quick to refute these claims by stating that no such phenomenon had occurred.
Many may wonder why there’s a rush to call this a cloudburst. Even if it seems like a reasonable assertion to some or a convenient scapegoat to others including those authorities that may wish to escape culpability over claims that no organisation or technology could have foreseen these flash floods, such claims are indeed problematic.
Firstly, it reveals a troubling gap between agencies that prioritise inter-agency conflict over damage control and flood prevention. It highlights that weather agencies are unwilling to take responsibility for the extreme devastation and instead resort to semantics to distract people from the nation’s poor response to disaster control.
It shows a greater need for data analysis and for deeper insights into predicting floods at the right time and at the right place to ensure human lives are saved. This country does not need just 85 weather stations nationwide to report forecasts, but requires a strong network that observes patterns before the country is at the mercy of floods and storms.
Secondly, it distorts both public understanding and policy-making in how to deal with the phenomenon. While cloudbursts are difficult to predict, disaster prevention is not something that cannot be planned for.
While these squabbles over terminology may be partially to blame, the undeniable reality is that Pakistan is annually the victim of the growing threat of climate change. The image stands out where Pakistani and Indian soldiers on both sides of the Wagah border continue to march. Still, Pakistan’s side of the border is deluged in water, standing in stark contrast to the Indian border, which shows no signs of flooding. It shows how much more progress awaits us even after 78 years.
Rather, what is unfolding in KP and Punjab is not just a seasonal misfortune, but a result of Pakistan being one of the most vulnerable countries in the Global South to climate change, despite being a producer of less than 1 per cent of global carbon emissions. A recent study found that climate change has increased monsoon intensity in Pakistan by up to 15 per cent. The mountainous terrain in the Himalayas, due to global warming, is experiencing more landslides, rainfall, and glacier melting than ever before, which now gives rise to explosive rainfalls instead of steady showers.
Moreover, people’s heedlessness continues with construction near river embankments and unchecked deforestation. Pakistan faces the paradox of a ‘natural disaster’ becoming a ‘manmade tragedy.’ It is safe to say that the above numbers are worrisome, as with every annual inaction, the flood risks rise to the extent that not just rural but also urban towns are affected. With viral photos of Lahore, once a hub for urban transformation, completely inundated by mass flooding, it is no wonder that Pakistan’s devastation at the hands of global warming and climate change continues to spark concern.
In conclusion, as the flood season continues, state-led investment in flood-resilient infrastructure, addressing debates over flood semantics, introducing early and efficient warning systems, enhancing cross-border cooperation, and the public’s need to heed instructions instead of adopting careless attitudes, are crucial to reducing, if not preventing, future climate disasters in Pakistan.
The writer is our Editorial Assistant and political analyst.
