FOR those who have lived in Islamabad for many years, the Margalla Hills are more than a scenic backdrop. They shape the city’s mornings, weather and sense of space. There was a time when birdsong arrived before the traffic, rhesus macaques were common near roads leading to the hills and Rawal Lake came alive each winter with migratory birds. The hills still dominate the skyline and the lake still reflects the evening light, but the natural life around them seems thinner. More buildings, heavier traffic and growing pressure on surrounding land have altered the landscape in ways that are obvious to some and quietly felt by those who remember it differently. Memory is not scientific evidence, but it notices absence. It cannot measure how many birds have disappeared or how much habitat has been lost, yet it recognises when familiar sounds fade and wildlife becomes less visible. Islamabad’s experience reflects a much larger national challenge.
Across Pakistan, natural habitats are shrinking under the pressure of expanding cities, roads, housing schemes and commercial development. Forests are cleared for timber, fuel and agriculture. Wetlands are polluted with sewage, plastics and industrial waste. Rivers are altered or contaminated, while birds and wild animals continue to be trapped for trade, private collections and entertainment. Climate change intensifies these pressures through rising temperatures, erratic rainfall and prolonged dry spells. Fragmented forests and degraded wetlands struggle to withstand droughts, heatwaves and fires, making ecosystems increasingly vulnerable.
Biodiversity is often associated only with endangered species or distant forests, creating the impression that conservation is a concern for specialists rather than ordinary citizens. In reality, healthy ecosystems underpin daily life. Wetlands store floodwater and recharge groundwater, forests reduce soil erosion and protect water catchments, fertile soils support agriculture and pollinators sustain crop production. Mangroves provide breeding grounds for fish while shielding coastal communities from storms. When these systems deteriorate, the consequences appear in declining harvests, polluted water, rising food prices, stronger urban heat and heavier flood damage.
This is particularly significant for Pakistan because of its dependence on the Indus River. Public debate usually focuses on dams, canals, irrigation and water distribution, yet the Indus is far more than an engineering system. Its forests, wetlands, floodplains, fisheries, groundwater and farmland form a single interconnected ecosystem.
Pakistan has demonstrated that conservation can succeed when local communities become partners rather than bystanders. Community-based programmes protecting the markhor in northern Pakistan and Balochistan showed that wildlife recovers when residents receive tangible benefits and participate in conservation. This approach contributed to the IUCN reclassifying the markhor from Endangered to Near Threatened in 2015. Similarly, WWF-Pakistan has reported that the Indus river dolphin population has increased from around 1,200 in 2001 to nearly 2,000 through surveys, rescue operations and cooperation with local communities and wildlife departments. Although encouraging, the dolphin remains endangered and survives only in fragmented stretches of the river, reminding us that species recovery alone does not signify a healthy ecosystem.
Mangrove restoration along parts of Sindh’s coastline has also delivered encouraging results by helping reduce coastal erosion, supporting fisheries and strengthening livelihoods. Yet planting large numbers of trees means little unless they survive, improve water quality and restore wider coastal habitats. International experience reinforces this lesson. The recovery of the Iberian lynx in Spain and Portugal, culminating in its reclassification as Vulnerable by the IUCN in 2024, resulted from decades of habitat restoration, captive breeding, prey management and careful monitoring.
Pakistan already possesses wildlife laws, protected areas and conservation policies. The greater challenge lies in implementation. Wildlife departments require trained personnel, modern equipment and reliable ecological data. Illegal wildlife trade demands consistent enforcement instead of occasional crackdowns. Forests and wetlands need sustained restoration, while communities living near protected areas should receive practical incentives to become partners in conservation rather than obstacles to development. Urban planning must also change. Environmental concerns are too often considered only after roads, housing schemes or commercial projects have already been approved. By then, the opportunity to avoid ecological damage has largely passed. Biodiversity should be integrated into planning from the beginning.
The Margalla Hills still overlook Islamabad, making it easy to believe that little has changed. Yet landscapes can remain visually familiar while quietly losing much of their natural richness. Biodiversity rarely disappears overnight. More often, it fades gradually until the birds, animals and habitats that once seemed ordinary become memories. Protecting Pakistan’s biodiversity, therefore, is not simply about saving wildlife; it is about safeguarding the ecosystems that sustain livelihoods, strengthen resilience and secure the country’s future.
—The writer is a young activist who comes from Islamabad and now lives in Dubai.
