Nepal flood: The tragedy that ‘nobody expected’ – Editorial
As the death toll rose and the missing remained unfound, their families, wretched with grief and uncertainty, waited.
We have watched in horror the footage that emerged from the calamitous flash flood along the Nepal-Tibet-China border. Remote communication systems meant to warn those in low-lying areas were no match for the speed and size of the landslide and glacial avalanche.
As rescuers scrambled in the mud, dust and chaos, we watched.
Those missing include New Zealanders, some on pilgrimages, and hordes of foreign tourists.
The violence of a ruinous landslide that began with a melting glacier from the Langtang Lirung peak, near the border with Tibet, was unfathomable. When that vast chunk of ice loosened, it hauled a murderous freight of boulders and debris several storeys high. Towns and villages, once vital hubs of culture, community and resilience, now resemble wastelands submerged by mud and the heaviness of tragedy.
The Nepalese call Everest Sagarmatha, or Forehead of the Sky. The Tibetan name is Chomolungma, or Mother Goddess of the Earth.
Aotearoa New Zealand has an abiding bond with Nepal. It began with Sir Edmund Hillary, who, with Tenzing Norgay, summited Mt Everest in May 1953. Since then, the Himalayan Trust, founded by Hillary, has built schools, medical clinics and airfields. Many New Zealanders travel to Nepal to volunteer, to adventure and to connect with a culture defined by its rich literature, folklore, languages and philosophy.
The bridges we have built, both material and metaphorical, are made to last. Each year in May, Everest Day honours the bonds between Kiwis and Nepalis.
Many Nepalis have settled and established communities in New Zealand, with Auckland the largest hub, according to the 2023 Census.
Some of them joined in a candlelit vigil in Aotea Square yesterday as the search continues for the missing.
Scientists from around the world have said this was the largest glacier flood they have witnessed, warning that it is the catalyst for more to come from human-driven climate change.
Witnesses said, “Nobody expected that.”
Except science has warned us of this repeatedly. We are just not listening, even in the face of such horrors and of irrefutable evidence.
Nepal’s carbon dioxide and other greenhouse gas emissions are among the lowest in the world per capita: 0.01% of global CO2 emissions since the mid-1750s.
In 2024, the average person in Nepal emitted two tonnes of CO2 equivalents. In the same year, the average New Zealander emitted 6.23 tonnes.
Despite its low share of emissions, Nepal’s geographical virtues also make it vulnerable: mountainous and landlocked, it has suffered from deforestation and global warming.
Nepal, like many remote, developing countries, is also vulnerable to the decisions of leaders around the world. Its towering, jagged peaks and lush forests, combined with a fragile ecosystem, are no match for rising global temperatures caused by burning fossil fuels. The people of Nepal and Tibet live in a high-risk environment highly susceptible to natural disasters.
So, when we consider our connections and friendship with Nepal, its origin story and its legacy, we might reflect that the greatest friendship is not characterised by festivals (while lovely) or a building (while important), or even one viewed through the tender lens of nostalgia. It is most defined by decisions we make as a developed nation, environmentally, so we can carry that important legacy relationship, and the responsibility that comes with it, into the future.
This disaster cannot be undone, but it must not be relegated to an aberration; a clamour on social media; a brief season in the news cycle; a time in which we all stood, transfixed by it, feeling powerless.
What we decide to do next, environmentally, as informed human beings, and as steadfast friends, can change the course for generations.
That is a real friendship between nations.