When the river rises

Nineteen lives, including an entire family from Punjab, were swept away in Swat last week when a sudden surge in the river turned a picnic into a tragedy. Images of victims stranded mid-river as raging waters closed in, should haunt us— because they are not an isolated disaster. They are a glimpse of Pakistan’s climate future, and of a State failing to protect its people from risks we have long known were coming.

This latest loss echoes a brutal pattern. In 2022, Pakistan faced its worst floods in living memory: more than 1,700 people died, including over 500 children. More than 33 million people were affected, 7.9 million displaced, and 2.2 million children lost access to education as over 34,000 schools were damaged. The economic toll was staggering: $30 billion in damages, with nearly 2 million homes, 13,000 km of roads, and 400 bridges destroyed. Agriculture was hit hard, wiping out 15 percent of the rice crop and 40 percent of the cotton crop, pushing 9 million people below the poverty line and shrinking GDP by an estimated 2.2 percent that year.

None of this was unpredictable. None of this was a freak act of nature.

The climate science is clear 

Pakistan is consistently ranked among the ten most climate-vulnerable countries. Its monsoon rains are growing more intense and erratic as global temperatures rise. In August 2022, Pakistan received three times its normal rainfall, the wettest August since 1961. Climate scientists confirm that warming made the extreme rainfall that submerged entire districts up to 75 percent more intense, especially in vulnerable regions like Swat.

Swat, with its steep valleys and growing glacial lakes, is especially exposed. Flash floods and Glacial Lake Outburst Floods (GLOFs) have become seasonal threats. The National Disaster Management Authority (NDMA) repeatedly flagged Swat’s risk zones, yet warnings remain distant bulletins, not actionable instructions.

A tragedy foretold: The National Disaster Management Act, 2010 sets up clear responsibilities: NDMA coordinates policy and warnings; Provincial and District Disaster Management Authorities must translate those warnings into local action— closing hazard zones, evacuating people, training communities, and preparing rapid response teams.

Yet when rain began swelling the Swat River, the picnic spots stayed open. There were no barriers, no community policing to clear riverbanks, no visible signage or on-the-ground drills. Helicopters arrived late. Bystanders filmed instead of rescuing, because there was no coordinated plan.

This is not just administrative negligence—it is a breach of the Constitution.

The law demands protection: Article 9 of Pakistan’s Constitution guarantees the right to life. In Shehla Zia v. WAPDA (1994), the Supreme Court confirmed that this includes a clean and safe environment— Justice Saleem Akhtar held that “Any action taken which may create hazards of life will be encroaching upon the personal rights of a citizen to enjoy the life according to law…. In our view the word `life’ constitutionally is so wide that the danger and encroachment complained of would impinge fundamental right of a citizen.”

This principle was deepened by the Lahore High Court in Asghar Leghari v. Federation (2015), which found the government’s failure to implement its climate policy an unconstitutional breach of citizens’ rights. Justice Syed Mansoor Ali Shah held that “the delay and lethargy of the State in implementing the Framework on Climate Change offends the fundamental rights of the citizens.” The Court created a Climate Change Commission to ensure that climate adaptation is not left to dusty files and empty promises.

Most recently, Parliament embedded this further through the introduction of Article 9A, which now directly guarantees every citizen’s right to a clean, healthy, and sustainable environment— an explicit constitutional mandate for climate-safe governance.

Pakistan talks about climate justice at global summits, demanding finance for adaptation. But justice begins at home. Before asking the world to pay, we must prove we are ready to save our own people. Seventeen lives lost on a picnic spot should not be remembered as another “act of God.” They should be remembered as a turning point—a reminder that when the river rises, the State must rise first.

When a tragedy like Swat occurs despite advanced warnings, clear hazard mapping, and a functioning legal framework, it shows a failure not of law but of will. The state’s international obligations— under the UN Framework Convention on Climate Change and the Paris Agreement— reinforce this domestic duty to protect vulnerable communities through adaptation and disaster preparedness.

The human cost of broken systems 

The Swat flash flood exposes more than a local governance lapse— it exposes the deadly gap between Pakistan’s strong climate rhetoric and the weak enforcement of its own disaster laws.

It is this same governance failure that turned the 2022 floods into a humanitarian and economic catastrophe. Experts estimate that the country will need $16 billion just for basic reconstruction, with communities still rebuilding three years later. Without fixing local governance and risk preparedness, each fresh downpour can undo years of development overnight.

A global precedent also underlines what Pakistan’s courts could demand: In Budayeva and Others v. Russia (2008), the European Court of Human Rights held the Russian state responsible for failing to protect villagers from a devastating mudslide, even though it was triggered by natural forces. The court found that when a state knows of a foreseeable natural hazard — and fails to implement early warnings or evacuation measures — it violates the right to life under Article 2 of the European Convention. The lesson is clear: climate disasters may be natural, but preventable deaths are not. Where there is knowledge and capacity to act, governments have a legal duty to protect communities from predictable climate risks.

A path forward: From paper plans to real protection

To prevent the next Swat, we must turn our legal guarantees into practical safeguards:

1. Hazard zoning must be enforced. Local authorities must have the mandate— and courage— to shut down picnic spots and tourist sites in risk zones during high-alert periods. It should be illegal to expose families to known hazard zones when warnings are issued.
2. Warnings must be localised and practical. Weather alerts in English PDFs won’t save lives. Loudspeakers, local volunteers, text alerts, and signage in local languages must bridge the last mile.
3. Rescue capacity must be visible and ready. The District Disaster Management Authority must have trained rapid-response teams with equipment stationed in known hotspots during peak monsoon months.
4. Courts must keep watch. Pakistan’s judges have shown they can push the state into action—from Shehla Zia to Leghari to the recent Salt Miners v. Government of Punjab (2024), where even minors won the right to challenge environmental neglect. Strategic litigation must be used to force compliance with constitutional rights and climate laws.
5. Budgets must be tracked. The Climate Change Commission must audit how provinces and districts spend adaptation funds, ensuring local communities see real preparedness, not just workshops and reports.

This is climate justice 

Swat’s river will rise again. Glaciers will burst again. Monsoon clouds will break records again. Climate change is here, not a distant threat. What remains within our control is how prepared we are to protect families who trust the State with their safety.

Pakistan talks about climate justice at global summits, demanding finance for adaptation. But justice begins at home. Before asking the world to pay, we must prove we are ready to save our own people.

Seventeen lives lost on a picnic spot should not be remembered as another “act of God.” They should be remembered as a turning point—a reminder that when the river rises, the State must rise first.