In 1986, while addressing the Second South Asian Association for Regional Cooperation (SAARC) Summit in Bengaluru, India, the late King Birendra had cautioned the leaders of the region that sea-level rise caused by global warming would be a major concern for us all. The next day, a journalist blithely commented that King Birendra, coming from a mountainous, landlocked country, should be the last person to worry about sea-level rise. An idea that sounded so distant and ridiculous 35 years ago has become an existential threat for us today. Many small island nations have experienced increased floods from higher waves often generated by storms faraway. The regularity of water logging is making it impossible to farm in coastal areas; existing crop varieties cannot cope with the brine.

Back home, heavy rains have started to dump massive amounts of water in the mountains causing unprecedented damage to lives and property. It has undermined developmental gains made over decades, pushing an increasing number of people back into the throes of poverty. Limited agricultural land is being turned into wasteland annually, making food security a major concern. Massive investments, which otherwise would have funded new development works, go into the maintenance of damaged roads, bridges and water supply chains every year.

Distress call

The extreme events of these last few years are a blaring distress call by the planet to remind us that human actions have altered the global atmospheric balance, changing global weather patterns. The planet is calling for carbon stabilisation. However, the insatiable hunger for progress and comfort of the few that drive the world economy has slowed the collective effort to limit temperature rise within 1.5 degrees Celsius above pre-industrial levels. Decision makers seem more interested in short-term gains rather than the long-term consequences of inaction. It's no longer politically or economically relevant to their interests.

In the past, major economies like the United States have acted more altruistically when facing existential threats. For instance, the US pledged around $15 billion to help rebuild European countries devastated by World War II. But things have changed. In a post-Cold War, post-9/11 era, when the US global hegemony isn't threatened by rival superpowers, the threat of the climate crisis pales in comparison. A flood or coastal city sinking into the ocean or the collapse of glaciers just doesn't incite the same fear for the developed world as impending nuclear catastrophe did in the 20th century. Therefore, the conversation stagnates.

We are already on our way to a 2.1 degrees Celsius temperature rise with current levels of emissions. If present environmental changes are the result of a 1.1 degrees Celsius increase in temperature, we can’t fathom the extent, the frequency and the coverage of weather patterns when we cross the 2.1 degrees Celsius threshold.

The recently concluded United Nations Climate Change Conference (COP26) has been painted in two ways: Governments presented a rosy picture by stating that there was some incremental progress and that the idea of loss and damage had entered international discourse. The activists, on the other hand, believe that COP26 not only failed to meet the expectations of vulnerable countries but undermined the urgency with which nations must take action to address the climate crisis. A glaring example of this is the omission of the word "emergency" as proposed by the Forum of Vulnerable Countries, in the Glasgow outcome; the Glasgow Climate Emergency Pact was watered down to the much tamer Glasgow Climate Pact in the end.

The trust seemed to deteriorate further when the developed countries were accused of being guided by a colonial mindset, some developing nations alleging that their rich counterparts were trying to stifle their pace of development by putting restrictions, scapegoating the environment and climate.

Weaving climate actions

Even if the developed world's financial support doesn't meet our expectations, which is very likely, people at the grassroots won't sit idly by. As erratic weather and extreme events continue to wreak havoc to our economy and sources of livelihood, pauperising whole populations, communities will come up with their own strategies to adapt to these climate impacts. Unfortunately, their ability to do so is limited and mostly scattered and unorganised. Therefore, the simple question of how prepared we are to minimise the expected damage with the onset of the monsoon six months from now remains unanswered. As always, we remain spectators to every flood and landslide, despite being at the core of our very geography. We must change our ways because devastating climate events aren't only going to continue, they’re likely to cause exponential hardships.

Further, we mustn't forget that we're still in the grips of a global pandemic. With new variants continuing to emerge, we could see further loss of revenue coupled with higher expenditure associated with the pandemic. Current circumstances require us to spend our limited resources more prudently. To begin with, the state must approach climate change as a subject that isn't limited to annual meets at COP and global efforts to cut emissions. We need to enable communities to deal with the consequences of climate change in whatever small way we can. The National Planning Commission and Ministry of Finance must ensure that every action taken, every penny spent on development is intentionally woven into the reality of potential extreme events.

One way to weave climate consciousness into our actions now could be to ensure that we help farmers who lost their crops to floods last monsoon with winter crops because that is the only immediate opportunity for them to rebuild their shattered economy to some extent. Unfortunately, there is a shortage of fertiliser at the time of sowing wheat. Unsurprisingly, the government doesn't seem to take the shortage seriously. A few weeks' delay in fertiliser application may be a trivial matter for suppliers or decision makers, but farmers know that it drops the yield significantly and hampers efforts to rebuild their struggling economy, likely to be further impacted by extreme monsoon events again. The climate crisis hasn't received the political focus it deserves yet; only a few politicians seem to understand the seriousness, but they remain outside the power corridor.

The days of King Birendra are long gone. In the 35 years since he spoke at the SAARC conference, Nepal has undergone dramatic changes. However, our core, collective issues and struggles haven't changed much. We still contend with devastating poverty and inequalities. Our economy stands on feeble foundations. Any progress is dampened by floods and landslides of increasing magnitude. The impacts of rising temperatures or drying landscapes—the slow-onset events—aren't even recorded with the context of climate change. Where have 35 years led us? Where will the next 35 take us?