In late June and early July of 2025, Pakistan was once again gripped by a recurring nightmare – floodwaters surging through its northern regions, swallowing lives, homes, and hopes. While floods swept across many provinces, it was the scenic Swat Valley, nestled in Khyber Pakhtunkhwa (KP) that bore the brunt of this year’s catastrophe. At least 150 people lost their lives nationwide, with Swat alone witnessing a tragic concentration of deaths and destruction.
The 2025 floods laid bare not only the growing fury of climate- induced disasters but also the gaps in preparedness, response, and governance that continue to plague Pakistan’s disaster management framework.
Flooding is no stranger to Pakistan. Each year, the country grapples with devastating monsoon and glacial-melt-driven flash floods, especially in the northern provinces. The 2025 floods were part of a larger series of extreme weather events triggered by intense pre-monsoon rainfall, amplified by glacial melt due to rising temperatures.
From June to early July, torrential downpours battered Khyber Pakhtunkhwa (KP), Punjab, Sindh, and Balochistan. According to official figures, as of July 8, at least 29 people died in KP, 24 in Punjab, 15 in Sindh, and 11 in Balochistan. Injuries were widespread–72 in Punjab, 34 in Sindh, 27 in KP, and 4 in Azad Kashmir, and 3 in Balochistan. The loss of over 100 livestock, including 54 in Sindh, further highlighted the economic toll in rural communities.
But it was Swat, the ‘Switzerland of Pakistan’ – that became ground zero for one of the most chilling episodes of the 2025 disaster.
Between June 27 and 28, heavy upstream rainfall caused the Swat River to swell rapidly, triggering sudden flash floods.
Tourists, unaware of the impending danger, had gathered in large numbers near the riverbanks – a fatal mistake, as waters rushed in with terrifying speed. In just 48 hours, 19 deaths occurred in Khyber Pakhtunkhwa, including 13 in Swat alone: 6 men, 5 women, and 8 children. Among the dead were 18 members of the same extended family, a tourist group, of whom 12 bodies were recovered from the debris.
Beside this, 2 more fatalities were reported in Charsadda and one in Shangla. The flood’s wrath spared few as it carved through the lush valleys, destroying 189 houses in areas including Swat, Abbottabad, Charsadda, Malakand, Lower Dir, Shangla, and Torghar. Landslides and waterlogged roads further isolated mountain communities, delaying rescue operations and intensifying the panic.
The devastation of the Swat floods was not solely the result of natural forces, it was also a human failure. While KP’s Rescue 1122 deployed approximately 120 personnel across 8 locations in Swat and managed to rescue several people, officials admitted significant lapses in operational readiness.
The provincial government’s response was widely criticised for its delay and lack of coordination. Social media quickly became a platform for anguish and anger, as footage emerged of stranded tourists pleading for help, some standing atop submerged vehicles. The absence of aerial rescue operation due to the unavailability of provincial helicopters led to widespread outrage.
In a rare acknowledgment of error, KP’s Chief Secretary Shahab Ali Shah admitted that there had been a ‘45-minute window’ during which a timely evacuation could have saved lives. ‘A small mistake turned into a major tragedy,’ he stated. But for many in Swat, the damage had already been done.
Public pressure led to the suspension of four senior officials: the Deputy Commissioner (DC) of Swat, Rescue 1122’s district head, Zahidullah Khan, the Tehsil Municipal Officer of Khawazakhela, and the Assistant Commissioner (AC) of Babuzai.
The provincial government announced compensation of Rs 1.5 million per deceased victim’s family, but for grieving families, monetary aid felt like a cold consolation.
The accountability measures, though necessary, have been viewed by many as reactive rather than preventive. Civil society groups and local activists have long warned of the dangers of unchecked tourism, unregulated construction along riverbanks, and the lack of early warning systems. Yet, year after year, little has changed.
Perhaps, the most critical lesson from the 2025 Swat floods lies in the urgent need to address environmental mismanagement. Swat’s riverbanks have long been choked by illegal hotels, restaurants, and resorts – structures that not only violate the KP River Protection Act of 2014 but also disrupt the river’s natural flow, increasing flood risk.
In response to the tragedy, the provincial government has launched a crackdown on such encroachments. A complete ban has been imposed on riverbed mining – a practice known to destabilise riverbanks – and a three-member committee led by the Assistant Commissioner of Bahrain was tasked with identifying and removing illegal structures. But questions remain: why were these measures not enforced earlier? Will the crackdown sustain once the news cycle moves on? Despite the failures of formal systems, the resilience of local communities, and volunteers was on full display. Civilians assisted in search and rescue efforts, offering shelter, food, and clothing to affected families. The floods, though tragic, reignited conversations about strengthening community- based disaster preparedness and local leadership in crisis response.
At the national level, the 2025 floods should serve as a clarion call for urgent climate adaptation. Pakistan remains one of the countries most vulnerable to climate change, with melting glaciers, erratic rainfall, and rising temperatures putting millions at risk annually. Yet, disaster risk reduction remains underfunded; early warning systems are fragmented and environmental regulations are weakly enforced.
The Swat floods of 2025 should not be remembered solely for their death toll. They must mark a turning point, a moment when policymakers, civil society, and citizens collectively realise that recurring disasters are not acts of God, but failures of planning, governance, and care.
To prevent future tragedies, Pakistan must invest in early warning systems with real-time alerts and evacuation protocols, enforce environmental laws by cracking down on encroachments, and protecting river ecosystems. There is a need to strengthen local disaster response units through better training, equipment, and inter-agency coordination, empowering communities to lead grassroots preparedness efforts, especially in mountainous regions like Swat, holding officials accountable not just post disasters, but in ensuring readiness before they strike.
As Swat rebuilds from yet another disaster, it’s not just homes and roads that need reconstruction – it’s trust, governance, and our relationship with the environment that must be urgently mended.
As climate emergencies become more frequent and devastating, Pakistan must move from beyond reactive relief efforts toward a culture of resilience and preparedness. The tragedy in Swat is a haunting reminder that lives are lost not only to floods but to the failures of those meant to prevent them.
The writer is a journalist and our Editorial Assistant.
