Our correspondent Ian Packham explores the wetlands in Hyderabad which developers have their eye on for much needed housing.
On the face of it, the region of Sindh province due south of Hyderabad is ripe for development. This broad flat zone is free of any significant towns or cities until the Indian border. Even its road network is reduced to the bare minimum, making a direct route towards the coast and the end of my climate journey across Pakistan even more complex than it would be otherwise.
The Indus delta has become such a tempting proposition to developers that there are serious plans to build Dubai-style cities on the islands that drift down from Karachi and are currently occupied by little more than fishermen’s huts and a jumble of mangrove roots.
‘Nature has given you everything. You have got unlimited resources… build and build as quickly as you can.’ So said Muhammed Ali Jinnah, Pakistan’s founding father, to the country’s new parliament on the first anniversary of independence from Britain in 1948.
Still widely respected, his birthday is a national holiday and his face appears on Pakistan’s banknotes. Knowing what I know, and seeing what I’ve already seen during my time traveling across the country, his words – admittedly said in another age – make me wince as I read them on a public monument.
We have learnt the hard way that our planet has not got unlimited resources. With the world population due to reach the eight billion mark on November 15 of this year according to the UN (and it’s already likely to be significantly more), every expanse of undeveloped land feels like it takes on a new importance. If Jinnah was alive today, I suspect his words to Pakistan’s parliament would be very different.
Before breaking ground on these cities even begins, the delta is known to have decreased in size. And not by insubstantial amounts. Studies have shown that the Indus delta has shrunk by an astonishing 90% since the early twentieth century. The cause is the series of dams and barrages like the one in Sukkur I have already visited. Over time, more and more of the Indus’ volume has been redirected to either agriculture or big cities like Karachi.
Karachi alone is huge, with around 30 to 35 million permanent residents – roughly half the UK population. But as someone half jokes to me on a packed bus, ‘no one really knows.’ As the land dries out, it has begun to sink, inundating agricultural land with salt water, making it unsuitable for further farming. The devastating flooding of 2022 is likely to increase Karachi’s population further, as the rural communities affected seek safety and new job prospects in the city.
The pressure for new construction isn’t going to go away, and the wetlands seem the obvious place for it. It’s a conundrum which is being played out across the globe as populations rise, and the UK is far from immune from the temptation to concrete over natural landscapes. We need more homes. We also need more nature.
Pakistan’s coastal wetlands exist for a reason beyond providing a habitat for the birds of Keti Bunder Wildlife Sanctuary, which include species as diverse as egret and flamingo. Mangrove has been shown to provide an excellent defence against the region’s cyclones, both reducing wind speeds further inland and soaking up storm surges like a sponge.
In addition, mangrove is capable of absorbing four times as much atmospheric carbon as other forms of tropical forest, making them another weapon in the battle against climate change. While their destruction therefore seems like short-sighted folly, it’s hard to see what other choice those in need in Pakistan currently have.
Revisit Ian Packham’s previous dispatches from Pakistan:
Karakorum – The climate change frontline
New lakes form another risk in Karakorum
Is sustainable development possible?
The environment in Pakistan’s cities
Green shoots in Pakistan’s climate adaptation and resilience
Encountering the deadly Indus floods head on
Why our ancestors had it right all along
Photos provided by Ian Packham