By Jagadish Dahal

Nepal has become accustomed to treating floods, landslides and other disasters as acts of nature—tragic, unavoidable and, once the waters recede, largely forgotten. That approach is no longer good enough.

The devastation seen in Rasuwa, Nuwakot and Dhading should force Nepal to confront a harder question: how much of the destruction caused by climate-related disasters is actually preventable?

The answer may be uncomfortable. We cannot stop every flood, landslide or glacial lake outburst flood. But we can identify risks, warn people, regulate settlements, build stronger infrastructure and prepare communities to evacuate.

When we fail to do these things despite knowing the risks, a disaster is no longer simply a story about nature. It becomes a story about governance and accountability.

The Bhotekoshi–Trishuli disaster is a case in point. A sudden and devastating flood in the Bhotekoshi area of Rasuwa affected Timure, Syafrubesi and surrounding areas before moving downstream into the Trishuli river system. Its impact was felt across Rasuwa, Nuwakot and Dhading, damaging roads, bridges, electricity and communication infrastructure, settlements, markets and hydropower projects.

Houses and structures were swept away. Bridges were destroyed. Schools were damaged. Thousands of people have reportedly remained missing.

The government has declared Rasuwa, Nuwakot and Dhading disaster crisis zones for three months. But a declaration cannot be the end of the state’s response. It should be the beginning of a much bigger conversation.

This Is Not Just About One Flood

Nepal’s mountains are changing rapidly. As temperatures rise, glaciers are retreating and glacial lakes are expanding. New lakes are forming, while existing ones can become increasingly hazardous. At the same time, changing precipitation patterns are increasing the likelihood of extreme rainfall and flash floods.

The danger is not confined to the mountains. A flood originating high in the Himalayas can travel rapidly downstream, turning a remote mountain hazard into a national disaster. The same river systems that support communities, agriculture, tourism and hydropower can become channels of destruction.

That is why the Bhotekoshi–Trishuli disaster should not be viewed as an isolated event. It is a warning about the future.

And yet, much of Nepal’s development continues as if the physical environment around us is not changing. We continue to build settlements close to rivers. We construct roads and bridges in areas vulnerable to floods and landslides. Hydropower projects and other infrastructure are being developed in increasingly climate-exposed landscapes.

The question is not whether Nepal needs development. Of course it does. The question is whether we are building development that can survive the climate we are moving into.

When does a natural hazard become a governance failure? This is the question policymakers should be asking now. If a settlement is located in a known flood-risk area, who approved its expansion? If a bridge is built without adequately accounting for changing river behaviour and extreme floods, who is responsible for the design? If a vulnerable glacial lake is known but not adequately monitored, who answers for the failure? If an early-warning system could have provided communities with valuable minutes to evacuate but the warning did not reach them, where did the system fail? And if communities have nowhere safe to go when the warning comes, can we really claim to be prepared?

These are not questions intended to turn a natural disaster into a political blame game. They are questions of public accountability.

The state has a responsibility not only to rescue people after disaster strikes, but also to reduce foreseeable risks before disaster strikes.

Nepal Knows What Needs to Be Done

The frustrating part is that none of this is particularly complicated in principle. We know that high-risk glacial lakes need monitoring. We know that vulnerable river corridors need risk mapping. We know that early-warning systems can save lives. We know that roads and bridges need to be designed for increasingly extreme weather. We know that some settlements may eventually have to be relocated.

The real challenge is turning this knowledge into action. Nepal needs a national system for monitoring high-risk glaciers and glacial lakes, combining satellite technology, drones, sensors, automated weather stations and ground-level observations.

But technology alone will not save lives. A warning generated in Kathmandu is useless if it does not reach a family living beside a river in time.

Early-warning systems must therefore be designed around the people who need to act on them. Alerts should reach mobile phones, local authorities, schools, community volunteers and households. Evacuation routes and safe locations must be identified before an emergency.

Even a few minutes can make the difference between survival and death.

We Also Need to Rethink Where We Build

The Bhotekoshi–Trishuli disaster should trigger a serious review of settlement patterns in Rasuwa, Nuwakot and Dhading, as well as in other vulnerable river systems, including parts of Sindhupalchok, Dolakha and Sindhuli. Scientific hazard maps should determine where settlements and major infrastructure can safely expand.

Where relocation is unavoidable, however, the government must not repeat the mistakes of poorly planned resettlement.

Moving people from one place to another without housing, schools, healthcare, drinking water, roads, electricity and livelihood opportunities is not resettlement. It is displacement.

A serious climate-resilient settlement policy must give people a viable future in their new locations.

Development Cannot Mean Transferring Risk to Communities

Nepal needs hydropower. It needs roads, bridges and markets. But development cannot be measured only by kilometres of road built, megawatts of electricity generated or the number of bridges constructed.

We must also ask: How much risk did we create in the process? Climate and disaster risks should be treated as fundamental engineering and planning considerations, not as boxes to tick during environmental assessments.

A bridge that cannot withstand increasingly extreme floods is not resilient infrastructure. A settlement repeatedly inundated by the same river is not safe development.

Nepal cannot afford to build today and rebuild the same infrastructure tomorrow with disaster funds.

And Then There Is Climate Justice

Nepal has contributed very little to the global emissions responsible for climate change, yet its mountains and communities are already facing severe consequences.

The international community must recognise that reality. Nepal needs stronger access to climate finance, technology transfer, adaptation funding, high-mountain research and support for loss and damage.

But climate justice should not become an excuse for domestic inaction. We cannot demand accountability from major emitters abroad while avoiding accountability for decisions made at home.

International responsibility and domestic responsibility must go together.

After the Rescue, Investigate

The immediate priority must remain rescue, relief and support for affected families. But once the emergency response stabilises, Nepal needs an independent, scientific investigation into what happened on August 26.

What triggered the flood? What was happening upstream? What was the condition of vulnerable glacial lakes and watersheds? What did the early-warning system detect? Where did warnings reach, and where did they fail? Why did particular bridges, roads and other structures collapse? Were known risks ignored during settlement or infrastructure planning?

If negligence, regulatory failure, poor construction or failures in risk management are established, those responsible must be held accountable.

Not to satisfy public anger, but to prevent the next disaster from producing the same questions. Because the real failure would be to mourn today, rebuild tomorrow and forget again.

Nepal Must Choose Differently

The mountains are changing. Glaciers are changing. Glacial lakes are changing. Rainfall patterns are changing. Rivers are changing. Our policies must change with them.

The question after every disaster cannot simply be how quickly we can provide relief.

It must be why people were exposed to the risk in the first place, and what we will do to ensure they are not exposed again.

The August 26 tragedy should therefore become more than another entry in Nepal’s long list of disasters.

It should become a turning point.

Nepal needs a development model that understands climate risk, a settlement policy that respects nature and a disaster-management system that acts before, not merely after, people are in danger.

We cannot control every natural hazard. But we can control whether we ignore the warning signs.

The mountains are warning us. The question is whether the state is listening.