Some fifty million years ago tectonic plates crashed and the Himalayas were pushed upwards. The seabed transformed into still rising mountains. Ocean currents started circulating anew, and wind patterns changed. Warming waters caused increased moisture evaporation, with it precipitation of rain and snow. Glaciers formed. The Indus River System was born. The geography and climate of the subcontinent started evolving into the form we see today. This was about ten million years ago.
Monsoons and the resulting flooding are an ancient phenomenon. Over millennia, climate systems have adjusted slowly, but a few times the change has been sudden, and catastrophic. Change is the only constant. Our geologic era is called the Anthropocene. This is a period of massive, human-escalated disruptions to Earth’s climate and biodiversity. In the billions of years of our planet’s presence, this is the sixth episode of mass extinction. Six in billions of years.
There is so much we still don’t understand. But without the presence of questions and the availability of human minds trained and educated to seek answers, we might as well abdicate from determining our own future.
We live in an “existential crisis”. The weight of these often-used words needs to be deeply understood. These are profound times. The questions to be asked are: Will we as a species, a people, respond to the impact of climate change appropriately? Is proportionate response even possible? The why and what, is also a critical query. The answers lie in working together in harmony with these powerful, natural forces, not in fighting them. But, we humans seem focused on increasing differences between ourselves. We fight, and are now starting to fight over water.
Waters have been bureaucratised, commoditised, politicised, weaponised. Dams have been built to collect, reserve or even deny water. It has been released in acts of preservation, or destruction. Historically men have poisoned wells. Today glacial melt, falling rain, mix with toxic effluent from human industry and callousness. In floods the Delta at the end of the Indus receives these poisons in a form that is diluted. When the dry season arrives, untreated waste concentrates into a pungent, corrosive, toxic soup. It ends up as poison in the sea. We poison our own wells.
Inland it is often allowed to leach, or in the case of water bottling plants, even pumped back into groundwaters and aquifers. Some of these histories are recorded, most escape notice. Many pollutants persist. Synthetic, industrial, agricultural, chemical products and agents tend to do so. But this was not always so. Histories are rewritten and stories are created. Markers of our destructive human presence and devastating environmental footprint are ignored, many are hidden. Our cultures have had their origins in the once pure flow of these waters. Stories and legends have been told; mostly of strong women and some of men. Legends written of principle, of stance, of love, all are connected to these rivers. These waterways have carried our histories, our ancestral pain of passion. They carry now flows tainted by ourselves. All returns to where our mother river, the Indus, rests. This delta is where it returns to-to its roots. To where its journey begins once again.
Poetic words, perhaps obtuse, but in what manner should one describe the lifeline, the lifeblood of our very existence? This river has connected those high mountains, the productive plateaus, the fertile plains, and this alluvial delta. It was those silver threads, unraveled once, that spun together. They created the ancient Indus Valley Civilisation. That weft and warp still connects us all. This is still an incredible woven tapestry. This is our home.
Will this fabric of us tear? Will the threads unravel? Will these rivers with or without waters eventually divide us? If the rivers die, do we? What form will the future cultures born off these waters take? What form has our present presence taken? What will we make of tomorrow? What will those that come make of us? Histories of consequence and inequities are being witnessed nowadays. Will we hear His-stories, Her-stories or Histories? Can we write our own true story?
I pray for and still do believe in that rudder and sail of self-determination. But only if held firmly by us, will they help navigate today’s turbid fluid flows. It is important to understand where we came from. It is critical to question where we are heading. It is paramount to recognise the difference between the woven and the spun. What is the difference between a history and his-story?
Our river assimilates, gathers all into a mainstream, into the once and still now incredible Indus. This is our rag-e-gar-dan (jugular vein). It has been our people’s home for thousands of years. It does divide, disintegrate, but only when it prepares to dissipate into the embrace of its mother, and the warmth of its ocean.
There should be no doubt that our futures are deeply linked to the fate of these waters. Global warming will continue to cause glaciers to melt, seasonal rainfall to intensify, floods to occur regularly, and droughts to escalate. This is known, it is predictable, and is currently inevitable. The river’s gift has been the distribution and sharing of its waters. This is no longer a given. The land’s gifts are these riverbeds, flood plains, fertile ground, self-charging aquifers. These are treasures. Who should they be protected from?
What is a given is that the water cycle will continue. Evaporation from the sea, precipitation patterns, the formation of ice and snow, will continue, but this will change. In Pakistan it will be to the immediate detriment of our communities. How many of us will be forced, or choose to move away?
What will visibly remain are the channels formed by nature. The laws of physics will still cause fluid to flow downhill. When the volume and velocity of flow is great, it will overflow into floodplains. If there is an obstruction that it can’t move, it will redirect and erode whatever it can. This is the way of water. If our constructions do not work with, and respect the elemental forces of nature, they will be damaged or destroyed. We are witnessing this. If some manmade concrete washes away, what of that? But if lives within suffer the pain of profound loss-then there is much to object to, vociferously.
In the words of our national treasure, Architect Arif Hassan sahib, from his article Reporting on Floods: “The mapping of waterways is necessary. Much of the floods have been the result of encroachments on waterways that have popped up on the paths of rivers and streams, thus blocking the natural flows. It becomes necessary to protect the land between the river and its floodplains, and develop forest, scrub, and alternative agriculture on it. This will reduce land available for real estate development. But this is what we require to create a happier and healthier, physical and social environment.” Needless to say, we all have to agree that a happier, healthier environment is a necessity.
Keeping in mind national interest, one of the least productive, least desirable, sub-optimal uses of land or water is for elite housing colonies. Residential development on arable lands is simply foolish. On floodplains, the sale of housing properties is an outrightly criminal act-and this is consistently being done. We need to respect the path water takes. It will flow in the channels it has created. That is a given fact of geography and gravity. This is a historical fact. These old waterways show clearly in aerial photographs and satellite imagery. They are visible even in Martian topography. If this can be seen, then why build in riverbeds? Why build in our cities’ naalas (storm water channels)? Why do buyers purchase properties that are known to flood?
The developers, the marketing specialists don’t suffer. The last buyer of that “file” suffers. The people who aspire to live or work in these homes do suffer. Why do professional specialists, city planners, architects, engineers, developers, believe so vehemently in “draining the swamp”? Lands that flood will keep flooding.
The absolute truth is in the fact that human engineering still cannot subdue the greater forces of nature. The big question is: should we as a species aspire to do so?
Constructions, machines, pumps work when the surge and the quantum of control required is limited, manageable. Our constructs can be effective only if we work respectfully with the laws of known and understood science. When our engineering interventions don’t fight, but ride the wave of elemental surges of nature, only then can they be successful in the long term.
I would like to mention a few interventions:
1. Dams-do they work? Yes, only if the circumstances are correct. Three sides of high ground, a narrow, tall aperture; an opening that is dam-able. The water flow through turbines does generate power. The dam does create a reservoir, a storage of badly needed water. But for how long? How soon does the flooded valley silt up? This is not a rhetorical question. Our Tarbela Dam is a prime example of silting.
2. Recharge wells-are they fashionable? No. Do they work? Yes. Is the capital investment high? No. Are they installed quickly? Yes. Do they silt up quickly? No. Do they need sediment filtration? Yes. Are they high maintenance? No. Is this a long-term solution? Yes. Is this the prime solution? No. Are they viable in flood plains? Absolutely yes. Are they a ridiculous alternative? Absolutely no.
3. Ancient methods-are they still in use? Yes. Historical evidence of living and farming with recurring floods is present in our history-Mohenjodaro. The placing of villages and towns on higher ground is common sense and visible. Flood plain agriculture, rain cycle: Kharif and Rabi plantation is still practised. Karez, water distribution systems (subterranean water canals) existed but are dying out. They remain an incredible method of handling aquifer water in arid regions. Learning from indigenous knowledge of living sustainably is critical.
Our population growth requires us to be cognisant of the need for custodianship of Earth. This is especially true of land where we were born, even if we do not live there anymore. Pakistan obviously cannot bear the weight of the world. We do seem to regularly bear the brunt of so much of the fallout. However, a burden is a lesson. It can be learnt from. I would venture that this would depend on how one reacts and what one plans towards.
We need to look after the asset that has spawned our ancient presence on this land. It is incumbent that we ensure the correct usage of its natural resources. This needs to be in the nation’s interest, not just to the benefit of institutions, corporations, groups or individuals. To protect everyone’s long-term future, progress, productivity and development have to proceed without destroying ecosystems that sustain us. We have to add value to human lives. Uplifting of all needs a long-term view. We have to use land and resources wisely, judiciously, sustainably, creatively, equitably. Without this, a praiseworthy culture cannot be created.
As the population grows, we have to be sensitive to the fact that homegrown resources will be required. Food security and tradeable industrial production require self-sufficiency in energy, raw materials and skilled human resources. Pakistan is still blessed with potential. I firmly believe this. But will we squander this window, this opportunity? The future requires knowledge (science)-driven, nature-based solutions. The challenge is exciting.
Richard Feynman, the nuclear physicist who worked on the atomic bomb, defined science in a lecture to his students: “Science is the acceptable philosophy of ignorance.” That is, the acceptance of not knowing enough about the laws of nature, of science, becomes a starting point. The not known guides the all-important questions for understanding. This is a philosophical statement in the search for the truth. I find the profoundness and humility of his words inspiring.
There is so much we still don’t understand. But without the presence of questions and the availability of human minds trained and educated to seek answers, we might as well abdicate from determining our own future. Are we walking on this path of abdication?
Education, seeking of knowledge, questioning, is paramount. To make informed decisions, then, this is how it has to be. The reminders to think, reflect, and contemplate are very frequent even in the Holy Quran. And then there is the injunction to walk gently on the Earth, to be custodians. And the word “Iqra”
Harmony with our ecosystem, balance with and understanding of the way of nature (science) is the only way forward. We have to walk this path firmly, decisively, with humility, and with considerate gentle steps. This is true, not only in our relationship with nature but also in the way we treat all that is alive. Especially our own species. Let us not forget the histories, written or told-of nature or of man.
Will we? Can we? Is there a choice?
The writer is an architect as well as an environmentalist