THERE was a time when farmers knew what to expect from the sky. They sowed with the coming rains in mind and prepared for winter as the heat began to ease. The seasons had their uncertainties, but there was a pattern to them and people learnt to live by it. That pattern is becoming harder to trust. The heat arrives early and refuses to leave, the rain keeps its distance until it comes all at once. In Pakistan, where livelihoods depend on land, water and work under an open sky, this is not merely a change in the weather. It is another uncertainty imposed on people who can afford fewer and fewer of them.
The burden of extreme heat, like so much else in Pakistan, depends on where one stands. An office worker in Lahore can retreat indoors, a labourer, street vendor or traffic constable often cannot. For those who earn by the day, staying out of the heat may mean going without wages. The advice to remain indoors assumes a choice that many people simply do not have. Farmers face a similar uncertainty. They must decide when to sow, how to irrigate and what to plant, even as the weather becomes harder to predict. Add expensive fertilizer, electricity bills and mounting debt and one failed harvest can undo years of effort. A family may borrow again, sell its livestock or take a child out of school. The cost of a changing climate is often paid in decisions made at the kitchen table.
Not every flood or failed crop can be attributed to climate change alone. Poor infrastructure, weak planning and limited resources can turn a difficult season into a disaster. Pakistan may not control the weather, but it does have a say in how exposed its people are to its consequences. The floods of 2022 made that painfully clear. Around 33 million people were affected and more than 1,700 died. The damage was estimated at $14.9 billion, economic losses at $15.2 billion and reconstruction needs at $16.3 billion. Behind these figures were families who had lost homes, livelihoods and months, sometimes years, of progress. The numbers tell us how much was lost.
The question, then, is what Pakistan has learnt since the floods of 2022. Are people living in flood prone areas any safer? Are drains cleared before the monsoon? Can farmers get reliable information about rainfall and water supplies? Relief is necessary, but it comes too late to prevent the damage. Rebuilding the same vulnerable communities without addressing the reasons for their exposure only postpones the next crisis. The problem is visible in our cities, where construction often moves faster than planning. Green spaces disappear, natural drainage is blocked and housing spreads into areas vulnerable to flooding. When the rain comes, authorities scramble for pumps and machinery. These may help in an emergency, but they cannot undo years of neglect or replace the enforcement of building regulations.
Prevention, unfortunately, offers little political spectacle. A functioning drainage system attracts neither headlines nor applause, a flood brings officials, announcements and cameras. Governments focused on the next election have little incentive to invest in safeguards whose benefits may become apparent only years later. Yet repeatedly paying to repair avoidable damage is hardly prudent economic management. Nor do Pakistan’s climate risks end at its borders. Rivers, glaciers and shifting weather patterns connect countries across South Asia, whatever their political differences. Sharing information on floods and water availability, improving forecasts and coordinating disaster preparedness would serve a common interest. Regional rivalries may be difficult to overcome, but they cannot make environmental interdependence disappear.
Pakistan faces an uncomfortable international reality. Its contribution to global greenhouse gas emissions is relatively small, yet its vulnerability to climate disasters is considerable. At the January 2023 Geneva conference, international partners pledged billions towards flood recovery. But pledges are only the beginning. How much funding is delivered, how accessible it is and how much must be repaid matter equally. Loans add to financial obligations; grants do not. For a debt-burdened country, this distinction is crucial. For affected families, climate finance is not about conference figures but whether schools reopen, farmers return to their land and villages regain access to safe water. Without transparent spending and effective institutions, international pledges may never reach those who need them.
Pakistan cannot prevent every flood or heatwave, but it can improve planning, water management and urban preparedness. Outdoor workers need protection from extreme heat, while disaster preparedness must become routine governance rather than an improvised response. These are questions of economic priorities: who receives protection and who bears the cost of neglect? As seasons abandon familiar patterns, experience alone is no longer sufficient. The floods of 2022 delivered a stark warning. The real test is whether their lessons shape decisions before another disaster forces Pakistan to learn them again.
—The writer is a young activist who comes from Islamabad and now lives in Dubai.
