Tourism Without Rules, Nature Without Mercy

It was supposed to be a morning filled with laughter, the cool breeze of the Swat valley whispering through the trees, the sound of the river dancing over the rocks, and the joy of a family sharing breakfast by the riverside. Eighteen souls from Daska had come to Swat —Pakistan’s postcard-perfect valley —to escape the city’s heat and find peace in nature’s lap. But in mere minutes, their holiday turned into horror. As they sat near the Mingora Bypass, sipping chai and snapping selfies, nature unleashed its fury.

A sudden roar. A rush of water. And then, silence, broken only by the screams of those left behind.

Tragic events occurred on July 3. Eleven members of the visiting family were confirmed dead, according to Rescue 1122 in Khyber Pakhtunkhwa. Two were miraculously saved. Seven more are still unaccounted for; it is believed that the merciless Swat River carried them downstream. They had no chance. With a shaky voice, Rana Ahmed Ali described how his loved ones vanished from his sight. “We had come from Daska to visit Swat,” he said. While we were eating breakfast, a few of the adults and children went to take pictures by the river. Then it happened all of a sudden. His voice broke with sorrow as he uttered, “The water came unexpectedly, and they were all caught in it.”

It’s not just about Swat. It concerns every region of Pakistan that accepts tourists but does not provide adequate security for them. The river that formerly represented Swat’s tranquility is now the face of grief. One family’s cries reverberate throughout the valley. The scream of a mother. The silence of a father. Kids who will never come home. Phone photos are now wet and broken. Homes that once hummed with happiness now have empty chairs. They came in search of tranquility. for aesthetic reasons. For recollections. They left behind suffering, quiet, and a lesson that we cannot afford to overlook

Officials said the current was so powerful that rescue crews could hardly get to the people yelling for assistance. On the banks, locals stood defenseless. What had begun as a tranquil summer vacation had devolved into a shared nightmare. Not all tragedies are unexpected. It occasionally shows up after we’ve disregarded the warning signs. A week earlier, Section 144— which restricted public access to riverbanks due to rising water levels and flash flood warnings— had already been imposed, according to Swat Assistant Commissioner Dr Nida Iqbal.

Why, then, were visitors permitted close to the water? Why weren’t barricades present? Where were the red flags? The policemen? Yes, there were warnings. However, warnings that aren’t followed through are like whispers in a storm. It was more than just a tragedy. The system failed. Furthermore, it wasn’t the first instance.

Pakistan’s breathtaking northern regions— Swat, Naran, Kaghan, and Neelum Valley— become both a paradise and a death trap every year during the monsoon season. We’ve seen it all before. Flash floods sweep families away. Young men swimming in rivers fed by glaciers drown. Vehicles flipped on shaky roads. Selfies taken too near the edge— sometimes the final picture ever taken. Nevertheless, the cycle continues year after year. There are hashtags, debates on TV, moments of accountability, and mass mourning. After that, we forget. Until the next catastrophe occurs.

With good reason, we enjoy praising Pakistan’s beauty. The majesty of our north is unparalleled. However, we are unwilling to admit that we have not handled tourism responsibly. Travelers often camp along riverbanks, climb precarious cliffs, or venture into hazardous areas in search of the ideal Instagram photo. They take kids near rushing rivers. Unaware of the speed at which mountain waters can rise, they wade in glacial streams.

Many are unaware of the dangers. Many more just don’t give a damn. The tale of Rana Ahmed Ali is one of sorrow. However, it’s also a warning. On paper, the Swat administration played a role, but not in practice. No barricades were present. There are no officers on duty to direct or deter guests. There were no outward signs of the danger that was only a few meters away. The outcome? Eleven people are dead. Seven are still unaccounted for. Dozens were permanently scarred.

Nature has always been untamed. It’s not the adversary. Our incapacity is the enemy. We weren’t ready. The very rules we write are not enforced. For their own safety, tourists must be informed, escorted, and, if necessary, restrained. Tragedies must also no longer be handled by the government like unanticipated storms. This was no accident. This was avoidable and predictable. We have to consider how many more families must be laid to rest before we make a change.

The pivotal moment must have been this tragedy. The tourism sector in Pakistan is expanding. However, unstructured growth results in catastrophe. The Swat incident demonstrates that without safety infrastructure and policy implementation, no place is safe, regardless of how picturesque the setting may be.

Here’s what needs to be done right now:

Required Briefings: At checkpoints, visitors entering high-risk areas are required to receive safety briefings.

Deployment of Tourism Police: Committed tourism officers need to be stationed at campsites, riverbanks, and viewpoints.

Digital Alerts: Travelers must receive real-time flood and weather alerts through mobile networks.

Barriers & Warning Boards: Along hazardous areas, physical fencing and multilingual warning signs ought to be erected.

Campaigns for Seasonal Awareness: Every monsoon season, local and national media outlets must start focused campaigns.

It’s not just about Swat. It concerns every region of Pakistan that accepts tourists but does not provide adequate security for them. The river that formerly represented Swat’s tranquility is now the face of grief. One family’s cries reverberate throughout the valley. The scream of a mother. The silence of a father. Kids who will never come home. Phone photos are now wet and broken. Homes that once hummed with happiness now have empty chairs. They came in search of tranquility. for aesthetic reasons. For recollections. They left behind suffering, quiet, and a lesson that we cannot afford to overlook.

Don’t let this be just another news cycle, another viral video, or another fading reminder. Let it be the final one. Pakistan must become a country where safety is mandatory, where laws are upheld, and where human life is valued more than a picturesque vista if it hopes to become a popular travel destination worldwide. The river will keep flowing.

Will we ever learn to respect it?

 

Farzeen Nadeem
Farzeen Nadeem
The writer is a freelance columnist

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