The deluge within: our self-made disaster

In the wake of devastating flash floods that have ravaged Pakistan's northern regions, claiming countless lives and destroying livelihoods, a chorus of climate change experts has long warned that the true culprit isn't the fury of nature alone, but our glaring lack of preparedness - a systemic failure that amplifies every disaster into a catastrophe. Nowhere was this more evident than in Buner where, following the initial chaos, local rescuers were left to fend alone until a district administration team arrived not for urgent aid, but merely to tally the mounting losses. Questions linger over the timeliness of warnings, alerts and forecasts, while provincial and national disaster management authorities lagged behind, exposing a profound communication void and delayed response that turned preventable harm into widespread havoc. It becomes clear that we cannot pin the blame on distant developed nations or climate change in isolation; the real tragedy lies in the shortcomings of our own government and civil society infrastructure, from inadequate emergency systems to fragmented coordination, which continue to exacerbate losses in these recurring floods.

In the quiet valleys of Ghizer, a sudden wave of social media posts from government officials and supporters recently claimed that an early warning system saved 200 lives from a glacial flood. Yet, the real hero was a humble shepherd named Wasiyat Khan, who sensed the danger and used his phone to alert nearby villages, giving them time to escape. Soon after, the government's boastful posts faded into silence, likely aware of the sharp-witted Gen-Z community on social media, who are quick to call out empty claims. This incident shines a light on a troubling case of greenwashing, where officials tried to take credit for a project riddled with audit issues, raising questions about how climate funds are truly being used.

In Islamabad, a consultant close to climate governance gently advised a group of young, passionate climate activists on social media to avoid criticising the government's climate efforts. The concern was that such criticism might discourage donors from providing more climate funding. The young activists were left wondering whether they should stay quiet, letting potential misuse of funds continue, or speak out, risking the loss of future aid. Either way, they felt the people of Pakistan would bear the loss. Choosing silence might at least bring some project funding, they thought. But the recent Ghizer incident, where no clear explanation has emerged about the failure of an early warning system, raises serious concerns. It questions what happened to the $370 million from the Green Climate Fund, which didn't deliver a system to alert people before a disaster. Writing this article in English might inform donors or their representatives about these issues, though many likely already know about the gaps in Pakistan's climate governance, much like other sectors.

In Karachi, a heavy rainfall of 140 mm threw daily life into chaos, yet a few government and opposition leaders stepped up, visiting affected areas to assess the situation and offer comfort to residents, even without swift rescue efforts. While the flooding here wasn't as severe as in Pakistan's northern regions, the presence of these local leaders gave people some hope and strength to face the challenges. In contrast, up north, few leaders appeared on media or social media, perhaps less equipped to connect with the public or address the nation's concerns for those suffering. Still, having leaders show up isn't enough. In Karachi, despite the government often overlooking the crisis, the city's highly aware and vocal residents, far more active than in other areas, refused to stay silent about their struggles.

In areas of Pakistan hit by glacial floods, cloudbursts and urban flooding, many people are beginning to see climate change as the root cause of these extreme weather events. While this shows some awareness, it's only part of the story. The bigger challenge often comes after the floods, with problems that hit communities hard. Rising prices of vegetables and other farm goods, along with difficulties in getting rehabilitation services and materials - often made worse by manipulated supplies and inflated costs - are set to deepen the struggle. These issues get little attention in the media, which means they don't gain the traction needed to spark change, leaving affected communities to face ongoing hardships quietly.

In the flood-stricken areas of Pakistan, the efforts of social wings from some political parties have been commendable, stepping in to help those in need. Yet, it's hard not to wonder where the many climate-focused NGOs, so active on social media in calmer times, are now. Are they mostly research groups or event organisers? Their presence could have brought not only relief and rescue but also valuable climate awareness to these communities. While political groups are skilled at providing aid, they often lack expertise in explaining the science behind these disasters, sometimes attributing them solely to divine will rather than helping people understand the environmental causes.

Whether we like it or not, working together on local climate efforts is crucial, but the painful losses of lives and property show we're not ready for these challenges. To protect our communities from future climate disasters, every sector needs better preparation. Though we're running behind, as the saying goes, it's never too late to start. This starts with the government committing to fair hiring practices and clear, honest use of funds. Ignoring these steps won't stop more incidents from happening soon.