For decades, successive governments have avoided acknowledging that the Himalayan mountains are fragile and highly vulnerable to natural hazards because of their limited carrying capacity. Dancing around this truth and ignoring it has been a persistent problem for the Himalaya and its residents.
In the recent Uttarakhand tragedy that struck Dharali village, located at a height of about 2550 meters in Uttarkashi, the human death toll remains uncertain, but it is clear that a hundred are missing. The buildings were swept away in a matter of minutes. While we mourn the loss, we need to realise that the extreme weather events, followed by destruction, have become an annual occurrence in the on-going climate changes. Cloud bursts happen, flash floods follow, lives and property are lost, NDRF is called upon to respond, and the story ends – the dance continues. Recall the June 2013 floods in the same Bhagirathi basin; it seems there is no end in sight for the tragedies.
Whether due to callousness or our collective irresponsible attitudes, neither do the recurring calamities stop nor does the human suffering. So, what keeps going wrong, and what can we do? One, numerous warnings, based on credible scientific evidence, reports, government regulations, and common sense have fallen on deaf ears. The omission and negligence are spectacularly well-known, even celebrated. There is no penalty for violators – individuals, groups, or the state apparatus that participates in or looks the other way. How is it that no one realised the entire settlement of Dharali village is located in the middle of the river channel and its natural flood zone?
A cursory look at the satellite images of the Dharali area from the early 2000s to the present shows that the size of the settlement has swelled, and buildings have moved dangerously closer to the river. It shouldn’t surprise us that the river/torrent behaved as it did during the cloud burst. It is in the nature of the Himalayan torrents to experience high-speed, high-volume discharge (flood) whenever extreme precipitation (rainfall) occurs upstream. Why blame nature? It is nature indeed, but what followed was not natural. It was man-made. Lesson one: The golden rule is to keep off the river channel as far back as one can. What happened to laws and regulations on this issue? Two, Kheer Ganga, a lesserknown tributary of the Bhagirathi, from its confluence at Dharali to the glaciated valley areas upstream, is about 30 kilometres (as the crow flies).
This area abounds in unconsolidated rock debris, which, with sparse vegetation cover, is easily dislodged and can become deadly on steep gradients. In this case, as the water volume from the cloudburst at elevations of over 4,000m gathered momentum, it hurled massive loose material, providing the necessary force to cause destruction. Dharali village had no chance to escape the disaster. Lesson two: communities living in such vulnerable high-elevation Himalayan zones must be mandatorily made aware of the likely natural hazards.
The village panchayats must have and maintain a carrying capacity register that provides clear information on these basic geological, climatic, and seismic facts/warnings. Three, there must be severe penalties for those in charge who allow the rapid growth of shanties, cheap hotels, and similar structures in the vulnerable locations with minimal carrying capacity. The offices of SDMs and DMs must be held accountable. Additionally, declare the river and channel banks as red zones where no construction should be permitted. In particular, at elevations above 2,500 m, a strict zoning code should be enacted to restrict the construction of new buildings. In the event of any wilful violation, an undertaking should be sought in writing that no compensation shall be awarded if a disaster were to strike.
That would deter most from building unlawfully. It is high time to enforce building regulations in these remote areas, too, barring minor renovations in old homesteads of local villagers. It might lead to some resentment, but finding innovative ways to bypass bureaucracy and making approvals easier, but rigorous, would be helpful. Finally, there is an urgent need to recognise that in the mountains, you are always up against gravity – everything tends to roll downhill. Therefore, the government must take primary responsibility for preventing these areas from being transformed into large, unsustainable townships. With inherently low carrying capacity, exploiting them for cheap tourism revenue is a poor practice and should be heavily regulated.
It makes little economic sense, for the heavy expenditure incurred on responding to the disasters far exceeds the earnings over the years. I have previously written about easements to the local population for maintaining the ecological integrity of the mountains, rather than making massive expenditures following the disasters. Lesson four: The sustainable living model enunciated by the author for the Himalaya is a way forward. Development must be undertaken within the carrying capacity of the Himalaya based on the triumvirate of: (a) geological vulnerability, (b) ecological fragility and (c) cultural sensitivity of the region.
(The writer is Ngee Anne Kongsi Distinguished Professor, National University of Singapore, Singapore and author of Life in the Himalaya: An Ecosystem at Risk.)