Sukhmani Paul Kour , Er Niraj Dubey
singer2671@gmail.com
The recent devastating cloudburst in Kishtwar on August 14 has once again reinforced the fragility of Himalayan landscape. What unfolded along the Machail Mata pilgrimage route was not merely a natural calamity, but a reminder of the increasingly volatile rhythm of these mountains. Cloudbursts, flash floods, and landslides are no longer sudden aberrations-they reflect a broader pattern that the Himalayas are on the alarm of their own structural vulnerability. This editorial moves beyond the Kishtwar tragedy, viewing the Himalayan crisis with three lenses: The policy and scientific voids that persist, the triggers that accelerate ecological vulnerability, and the spectrum of accountability stretching from individuals to institutions. Together, these dimensions point to what must change if the Himalayas are to remain a safer home. Let us explore the first lens: The scientific and policy voids that undermine himalayan resilience. Geological fragility is evident, with land subsidence reported in areas such as Thathri in Doda, Parnote in Ramban, and parts of Rajouri, where pre-existing landslide zones have re-activated under stress. These episodes reflect a systemic instability that poor planning has failed to anticipate. Apart from this urbanization when formally ‘planned,’ often overlooks slope stability, local hydrology, and carrying capacity, resulting in disrupted drainage networks and cascading soil movement. Governance further compounds the problem: hazard zonation maps and NDMA’s 2020 GLOF guidelines or its 2020-21 Annual Report remain underused in approvals, while district-level monitoring cells lack funding and capacity. There is also a clear deficit in integrating existing environmental laws and building codes into local practice, leading to a gap between regulation on paper and enforcement on the ground. Disaster governance thus remains fragmented, leaning heavily on post-disaster relief rather than preventive, science-informed planning.
Without bridging these policy and scientific voids, Himalayan fragility will continue to translate into avoidable risk. Let us now turn to the second lens: The triggers that intensify Himalayan vulnerability. On the climate front, the Himalayas are warming nearly twice as fast as the global average, speeding up glacier melt and destabilizing already fragile slopes. The IPCC’s Sixth Assessment Report warns that under high-emission scenarios, the Hindu Kush-Himalayan region could lose over two-thirds of its glaciers by the end of the century. As ice retreats, the loss of snow albedo creates a dangerous feedback loop: darker surfaces absorb more heat, amplifying instability. India’s National Climate Vulnerability Assessment (2021) already ranks Himalayan states as ‘severe risk zones,’ while NDMA’s 2020 GLOF guidelines caution that the number and size of glacial lakes are rising, heightening the chances of sudden floods. Alongside this climatic pressure come human choices. Road-widening projects such as Uttarakhand’s Char Dham highway have cut through fragile terrain with minimal safeguards. Expanding tourism infrastructure, from hotels to parking lots, often ignores ecological carrying capacity. Hydropower tunnelling in Himachal Pradesh and Jammu & Kashmir has disturbed aquifers and even triggered micro-seismic events.
Though these interventions are not inherently negative; they are vital for livelihoods and connectivity, yet, without ecological safeguards and scientific thresholds, they risk becoming accelerants of disaster rather than engines of progress. Let us now turn to the third lens: The spectrum of accountability. Fragility in the Himalayas is not only a scientific challenge, but also a governance and societal test. Accountability stretches across multiple tiers, from the choices of individuals to the vision of national institutions. A practical model could begin with the District Magistrate launching a Resilience WhatsApp Network that links sub-divisional officers, panchayat leaders, engineers, forest staff, and youth volunteers, so early warnings and training can reach communities instantly. Youth trained under NDMA’s Aapda Mitra program could be cyclically engaged through a district “Resilience Fund,” receiving stipends for drills and seasonal deployment, turning preparedness into dignified service while reducing underemployment.
At the governance level, disaster resilience can be built into DISHA (District Development Coordination and Monitoring Committees), where MPs, MLAs, and officials already meet, ensuring that preparedness becomes a matter of political accountability too. In this way, district administrations anchor coordination, youth embody frontline response, traditional builders preserve resilient architecture like Dajji-Dewari in J&K, scientists feed satellite-based early warnings like NISAR, and elected representatives keep resilience politically visible a web of shared responsibility rather than a chain of blame. The Himalayas’ fragility is both a warning and a call to action. Only through scientific foresight, climate-aware planning, accountable governance, and community engagement-blending tradition with technology-can these mountains remain safe. Now is the time for each stakeholder to act without delay: scientists, policymakers, local leaders, communities, and citizens must all commit to actionable steps and sustained vigilance. Resilience is not optional but essential, and safeguarding the Himalayas today demands bold, coordinated, and immediate action to ensure a secure, sustainable future for generations to come.
(The authors are Scholarin Jammu -University & Sr. Faculty – GCET, Jammu)
The post The Himalayas: A Test of Shared Responsibility appeared first on Daily Excelsior.