Flash floods, extreme rains and record-breaking heatwaves are no longer anomalies in Pakistan. They are the unmistakable signs of an accelerating climate crisis.
It feels as if the devil’s breath has swept across the land: one sudden shock, and entire communities are left in ashes. From glacial melt in Khyber Pakhtunkhwa to torrential rains in Sindh, the climate system is unravelling, overwhelming fragile infrastructure and leaving behind unprecedented damage.
The poor and marginalised suffer the most. Families in katchi abadis and flood-prone villages face destruction without safety nets, while the privileged, though shaken, often remain shielded by secure housing, insurance, and escape routes. Climate change in Pakistan is, therefore, not just an environmental problem, but a test of justice.
Yet Pakistan suffers from a dangerous kind of ignorance: the amnesia that follows every disaster. When the floodwaters recede or the heatwave ends, the urgency fades and everyday life resumes as if nothing had happened. There is a brief surge of outrage and sympathy, followed by silence. This cycle of forgetting is itself part of the climate crisis, a refusal to treat catastrophe as a permanent reality, until the devil’s breath strikes again.
That is why the first principle must be clear: climate policy has to be designed under a Veil of Ignorance, guided by anxiety-driven prudence. Policymakers must imagine themselves not as ministers in Islamabad, but as citizens in the floodplains of Swat or the waterlogged alleys of Karachi. A lawmaker drafting climate legislation should picture themselves not in the comfort of parliament, but as a farmer in Badin whose crops have been drowned by saltwater intrusion, or as a student in Chitral whose school has been swept away by glacial floods. If they could be anyone, anywhere, they would build resilience for all. Without this mindset, every policy risks collapsing into elite-driven survival strategies. In this context, I am suggesting five policy recommendations for a just mitigation of this crisis.
First, policymaking must start with the Veil of Ignorance. A lawmaker who assumes they could one day stand knee-deep in floodwater in Swat or watch the sea rise in Keti Bundar would never design housing projects without proper drainage or disaster insurance. This mindset compels leaders to design resilience as if their own families might be displaced, ensuring that inclusivity is not an afterthought but the foundation.
This is the very idea of justice as fairness, reimagined here as justice as resilience: when policies are designed without knowledge of privilege or position, they naturally prioritise the most vulnerable, and in doing so strengthen society as a whole.
Second, Pakistan must begin the planned relocation of populations in climate hotspots. Climate vulnerability mapping (CVM) is the starting point. Cities like Glasgow have already used CVM to identify at-risk zones and move communities before disaster struck, saving thousands of lives.
Pakistan needs the same foresight in its northern glacial belts and coastal lowlands, where reactive evacuations after floods or cyclones cost far more in both lives and resources than planned, phased relocation tied with housing and livelihoods.
Third, resilience must be strengthened through just-in-time cash transfers in climate hotspots. Research shows that when vulnerable households receive emergency cash immediately before or after climate shocks, their resilience rises by 30-40 per cent. Pakistan does not need to reinvent the wheel: existing social safety nets, such as the Benazir Income Support Programme, can be expanded and digitally targeted for climate-triggered payouts, ensuring that the poorest do not fall into destitution after every flood or drought.
Fourth, rather than inventing a new institution, the existing Council of Common Interests (CCI) should be expanded to include climate resilience as a constitutional mandate. This is not about creating a Hobbesian Leviathan that swallows provincial autonomy, but about letting Pakistan’s most respected federal forum evolve with the times. By making climate resilience part of the CCI’s remit, the country can ensure fair distribution of finance and prevent the endless blame game between provinces and the centre.
Fifth, Pakistan must finally begin penalising those who pollute, dump waste and block sewage systems. This will be unpopular, as Pakistan currently lacks both a culture and an enforcement system for fines, but without such deterrence, urban floods will continue to worsen due to clogged drains and reckless industrial practices. Factories releasing untreated waste and citizens treating public drains as garbage dumps are not minor inconveniences; they are accelerants of disaster. A fine-based accountability system may face initial resistance, but it is necessary if Pakistan is serious about prevention rather than relying on endless clean-up.
Pakistan’s climate crisis is already here. The choice is stark: survival cannot depend on privilege. It must be guaranteed by institutions designed to anticipate, endure and protect all. Justice in the age of climate disruption means more than charity after floods; it means resilience built into the very fabric of governance.
As John Rawls reminded us, “Justice is the first virtue of social institutions, as truth is of systems of thought”. In Pakistan today, justice must be reimagined as resilience, because without it, no institution, however powerful, will withstand the devil’s breath of climate change.
The writer is an environmentalist.