When Nature strikes back

“Look after the land and the land will look after you; destroy the land, and it will destroy you”; it is an old Aboriginal proverb. But this is not just an old saying, it is a warning that humans are blatantly ignoring and bearing the cost. The recent flood in Pakistan was not merely a natural disaster; it is nature’s way of reclaiming what humans have taken from it.

The earth seems to have taken back what belongs to it. In this process of reclaiming its territory, losses were also incurred, while full-scale damage assessments are still incomplete, initial reports suggest that more than six million people have been affected.

According to the National Disaster Management Authority (NDMA), over 1,000 people have lost their lives, around 7,000 heads of livestock have been wiped out, nearly 13,000 homes destroyed, 2,000 km of roads washed away, and hundreds of bridges damaged.

In the northern regions of Khyber Pakhtunkhwa, Malakand division, huge rocks have rolled down and wiped out entire villages as a result of cloudbursts. It was not mere a chance, rather it was a consequence of our own choices. The same mountains that turned out to be a sign of fear for the locals once stood as a sign of beauty and glory. It was covered with thick pine and walnut forests; however, humans have deprived its natural beauty and made it bare, stripped of their roots.

The mountains are reduced to stones and patches of grass. Being a beautiful valley, rainfalls, and cloudbursts are not new to it. Nevertheless, human interventions have perturbed the whole ecosystem. The mountains where trees once held the soil firm are now witnessing emptiness and a widespread human population.

Ultimately, the nature strikes back through flash floods and made the area uninhabitable for the coming few decades, to reclaim its territory.

This pattern of reclaiming repeats itself elsewhere. In major cities, residential societies have been built on the dry beds of rivers, resultantly every monsoon, nature reminds us of our arrogance. The same story unfolds in Swat, where people encroach upon the river’s path each year.

Local residents say that if a river stone appears in your field, it is the “egg” of the river, and one day, whether in ten years or a hundred, the river will come to claim it. That old wisdom carries a warning we have long stopped listening to, nature never forgets its territory.

The knowledge of our ancestors was far better than ours to live in harmony with the land. They understood the logic of the hills, where water flows, where wind settles, and where a home should or should not be built. The older generations knew how to live with the land. Today, we build wherever our greed allows, guided by cement rather than sense.

The hills that once echoed with folk wisdom now resound with construction noise. We call it progress, but it’s just ignorance in a modern form.

Pakistan’s problem is not only climate change; it is the priority of choosing to ignore planning altogether for it. Cities are expanding without any understanding of geography or ecology. Houses sprawl across fragile plains, riverbeds, and flood zones. No one is heeding to the indigenous knowledge that once kept communities safe from disaster, even there is no planning from government.

Many countries have entire cities located along rivers and coastlines, but their infrastructure is resilient, adaptive, and in harmony with the environment. They don’t fight against nature; instead, they learn from it. The tragedy in Pakistan lies in doing the opposite, rivers’ beds, forests, and hills are converted into residential societies, and then we wonder why floods sweep away our homes and fields.

The North-South climate debate is not without merit. It is a fact that Pakistan contributes a little to the global greenhouse gas emissions. Still, the country ranks among the vulnerable and affected by climate change. For instance, in the 2010 floods, the country lost 2.4 million hectares of un-harvested crops. Similarly, in the floods of 2022, UNDP estimated that 33 million people were directly affected with 1730 fatalities and a loss and damage of USD 30 billion, apart from USD 16.3 billion for reconstruction and rehabilitation. Now, in 2025, the country again incurred heavy losses.

This injustice does not absolve us of our own responsibilities. We may not have caused the storm, but we have stripped away the trees that could have softened its blow. Pakistan may not control global emissions, but some things are in our control. We have control over deforestation, construction on waterways, and respecting the natural course of rivers. These basic things do not require any international funding or complex interventions. These are steps in our own hands. If we continue to ignore them, then we alone will bear the cost of our negligence.

Of course, nature is not cruel; it operates on the basis of justice. When the thin balance is disturbed, nature restores itself, with or without us. The floods, landslides, and heat waves are not random acts of fate but the consequences of decades of neglect and exploitation. The vengeance of climate change is not just in rising waters; it is in the silence of the forests we cut, the rivers that return for their land, and the mountains that crumble under our carelessness. The land once looked after us. Now, it only reminds us of the bargain we broke.

Copyright Business Recorder, 2025