A flood of negligence: governance in crisis

The recent tragic deaths of tourists stranded by flash floods in the River Swat were not simply the result of an unforgiving act of nature - they were a direct consequence of institutional failure. They speak volumes about the continued gaps in disaster governance in Pakistan. This was not the first time we've witnessed such a preventable tragedy, and unfortunately, unless serious reforms are undertaken, it will not be the last.

Years ago, in an article titled "Flood (Mis)management", I had outlined the critical fault-lines in our disaster response framework. I had warned that unless we treat disasters not as isolated events but as symptoms of poor governance, we will continue to mourn needless losses. Sadly, that warning remains more relevant than ever.

Disaster management is not an optional add-on to governance - it is its core component. From risk identification and early warning systems to long-term planning and community education, effective disaster management requires constant attention, investment, and most of all, political will. Unfortunately, what we witness instead is a pattern of reaction rather than preparation, damage control rather than mitigation, and rhetoric rather than reform.

The framework of disaster governance rests on four interrelated pillars: preparedness, prevention, mitigation and community mobilisation. In the case of the recent Swat floods, each of these was absent.

To begin with, there was no early warning issued to tourists or locals about the risks of flash floods in the area, despite predictable weather patterns and rising water levels upstream. Emergency response systems appeared uncoordinated and sluggish. Tourists were neither cautioned nor provided with timely evacuation routes. In a region prone to such natural events, this is inexcusable.

Prevention, the second pillar, involves structural and regulatory measures that reduce exposure to hazards. Yet unregulated tourism, illegal construction near rivers, and violation of building codes continue unchecked. Commercial interests often override safety concerns, and development in environmentally vulnerable zones is not just tolerated - it is facilitated. Authorities who are supposed to enforce regulations often look the other way, either due to incompetence or collusion.

Mitigation, the third element, refers to long-term strategies to reduce vulnerability. In Swat and other scenic areas, there is little evidence of such planning. Infrastructure remains fragile, local governments are under-resourced, and emergency services are undertrained and underequipped. Despite floods being an annual threat, temporary arrangements are made, and once the season passes, files are closed - until the next disaster.

Community mobilisation, the fourth and most neglected pillar, involves educating the public about risks and safety protocols, preparing local response units, and building resilience. There is little or no public awareness about emergency procedures in tourist areas. Visitors are rarely briefed, and local businesses are not sensitised to deal with sudden environmental changes. Community-based disaster response remains a neglected concept in Pakistan's governance vocabulary.

Underlying all of this is the issue of rule of law, or more accurately, the lack thereof. Disaster risk cannot be managed without enforcing laws - be they environmental protection laws, zoning regulations or tourism codes. These are not abstract legal frameworks; they are essential tools for saving lives. Unfortunately, laws in Pakistan are often honored more in breach than in observance.

Our governance model continues to operate on a crisis-response mode. It is only when tragedy strikes that attention is momentarily diverted toward glaring institutional failures. Committees are formed, inquiries ordered, officials reshuffled, and then, slowly but surely, the status quo resumes. This cycle of neglect has desensitised us to disasters that are, in most countries, manageable or at least mitigable.

A deeper issue is that of institutional fragmentation. Disaster management falls across multiple departments - environment, local government, tourism, police, and the Provincial Disaster Management Authority (PDMA). In the absence of a coordinated governance framework and clarity of roles, responsibility is diluted. No one is held accountable, and blame is passed around like a bureaucratic football.

The NDMA and PDMAs must evolve from passive, post-disaster institutions into proactive bodies working throughout the year. They should regularly update hazard maps, conduct drills, review risk zones, and lead public awareness campaigns. But for that, they need more than a mandate - they need resources, trained personnel, political backing and administrative autonomy.

In the case of Swat, the surge in domestic tourism in recent years has not been accompanied by regulatory safeguards. Authorities are keen to promote tourism for economic reasons, but they have failed to ensure that it is safe and sustainable. Tourism must be guided by a framework that balances growth with safety, ecology and regulation. The recent tragedy is a case study in what happens when tourism is promoted in a regulatory vacuum.

It is also high time that provincial and district disaster management plans are placed before the public. Transparency breeds accountability. Citizens have a right to know what measures exist to protect them in times of crisis and which officials are responsible for implementing them.

Swat's tragedy must not be treated as another unfortunate incident to be forgotten once the news cycle moves on. It should be a national wake-up call. We must ask hard questions: Why were early warnings not issued? Why was unregulated construction permitted in flood-prone zones? Where were the district authorities, the police, the disaster management agencies? Who will be held accountable?

We need to move from a reactive to a preventive governance model. And that starts with accepting that disasters are not just acts of God - they are often acts of omission by man. Until we address the governance vacuum that allows such tragedies to occur again and again, we will continue to count the dead after every monsoon.