Climate, community and compassion

April is not supposed to be this warm. The heatwaves in parts of the country are not normal. The sudden hailstorm in Islamabad a couple of weeks ago damaged cars, buildings, plants and crops. While it is not always possible to ascribe an individual event to climate change, the frequency of unusual weather events and comparisons with historical data give us a strong indication that we are living in a new era: an era of unpredictable, forceful and powerful weather events that are affecting safety, health, well-being and food security of a very large number of people.

But these events do not affect everyone equally. Those who have to toil in the sun, because they have no other option, suffer a lot more than those who never leave air conditioned offices with indoor car parks. Those who have no disposable income are harmed far more when their vehicles have to be repaired than those whose needs are taken care of by entitlements from the state. When the heavy, unseasonal rains bring misery to the slums that lack sanitation or proper drainage, the resulting diseases kill a lot more babies there than when the same rains pour down in gated communities.

There is no question that a lot of work needs to be done at the global level - in terms of treaties, funds, policies and commitments. But even if those treaties were to be signed today and enacted immediately (which they will not be), the situation for those who are living in urban slums and in shanties will not change. There is a global climate crisis to be dealt with and there is a local one. The local one is not simply about the weather and the temperature, it is more than the sudden onset of heavy rains or unusually hot April. It is just as much about injustice and corruption.

Places with socio-economically disadvantaged communities, such as urban informal settlements and refugee camps, tend to be in places that are particularly vulnerable to climate change. Studies from Rohingya camps in Bangladesh have shown that these camps are particularly vulnerable to floods and landslides - far more than other parts of the country. So when the refugees in Bangladesh lose their lives and livelihoods due to climate related events every year, we should not simply blame the unpredictable weather, but also the deliberate policy of why they are forced to be in that place? We should ask: who decided to allocate that land for a refugee camp, when the risks are all well-known?

In Pakistan, it is no coincidence that the most recent floods in Balochistan and Sindh had a disproportionate impact on those who are at the bottom of the economic ladder - and the system of corruption, negligence and incompetence keeps them there. Those who were displaced due to the floods found little sustained support from the government, and reports of xenophobic response from residents of affluent neighborhoods were particularly telling.

As the country deposits millions across the border this month and in the coming weeks (and that too with broad public support), the displaced people, many of whom have never set foot in the country that we insist is theirs, will be at a far greater risk of climate change than those who make the decisions for them. The science is quite clear on how climate change will continue to wreak havoc on cities and towns - what is less clear is how will we protect those who are at the greatest risk. For that science is not enough - we need compassion, empathy and humanity.