Editoral-Environmental fiction By Syed Rizwan Mahboob ~ .

IT was some time in July 1992 when heavy rains poured for nearly 40 hours flooding upper Punjab. Spillways had to be opened to save dams as massive quantities of water roared through the rivers.

As the torrential rains ended, a survey by the forest department identified 17 fresh landslides in Murree tehsil. Contrary to environmental fiction, 14 of these landslides occurred in areas which had good forest cover.

An explanation was needed — which came after a three-week scouting period in Murree and Kotli Sattian. The feature that was common to these 14 landslides was the blasting that had occurred nearby for road or building construction. That was the first time that a cardinal pillar of ‘green beliefs’ was shaken. Evidently, the cutting of trees is not solely responsible for landslides.

Environmental sensitisation which started three decades ago had several positives. Recommendations pertaining to sustainability, prudent natural resource management, environmental protection, conservation, etc., are laudable, and of direct relevance to the very existence of mankind. What is less welcome is the transformation of pro-environment themes to articles of belief, dogmas and even fads.

The scariest part of this approach is being distracted from the facts and a tendency to attribute the wrong causes to environmental phenomena. This position is not based on empirical evidence, yet it is accepted.

The reaction to forest fires represents one example of how zeal can play havoc with nature. Every May and June, newspapers and channels are suddenly splashed with coverage of forest fires raging in the Margalla hills or Murree. Unscrupulous forest officers are cursed while frantic activities (including spraying water via helicopters) ensue. NGOs paint doomsday scenarios.What is conveniently forgotten is that fires are a natural phenomenon in these forests, designed by nature to cleanse the floor of massive quantities of weeds and shrubs accumulated during spring. A surface fire in May or June adds forest humus and allows millions of surviving seedlings to be poised to benefit from the coming monsoons.

This is how the survival of the fittest principle is enforced by nature. So rather than panicking at the first sighting of these flames during early summer, one should only worry if the surface fire turns into a crown fire and gets out of hand.

Another environmental misconception concerns the mantra encapsulated in the notion of ‘banning tree felling’; something that always wins accolades at workshops and conferences held in colourful surroundings and attended by even more colourful crowds.

Not realising that the jungle is a living entity, comprising new plants, submature and mature trees, the felling of old trees is dubbed as the biggest menace of our times. Nobody realises that millions of seedlings would die annually as a closed canopy of mature trees would not allow sunlight through for the sprouting young plants. Year after year, the forest floor gets littered with layers of leaves and pine needles allowing virtually no room to germinating plants.

In effect, denying the opportunity to grow to millions of seeds for decades has put coniferous forests in serious peril as overgrown trees are susceptible to the sudden eruption of disease. Rather than banning felling, gradually removing mature trees to facilitate new growth would be a better solution for sustainability — but then environmental fiction always holds sway.

Nature exacts retribution in its own way for unmindful meddling in its affairs. Sometime ago, a serious disease erupted in the blue pine forests of Murree, killing hundreds of trees. Shisham in central Punjab is presently faced with the serious dieback disease that causes an otherwise healthy tree to suddenly go dry and eventually die.

In both cases, the loss extended to hundreds of trees but there were no young trees to replace the dead ones. (I shudder at the sight of old and decaying poplar trees, hollow as a barrel, lining the Lahore canal. If these are not removed, they could endanger green avenues.)

These examples clearly show that some rational thinking, free from preconceived notions, is needed on nature and forests. Civil society activists’ discourse on the environment may be laudable but it needs to be deconstructed in the light of sound ecological information. Otherwise, we may continue to grope in the dark, armed with feeble diagnostic offerings and even feebler prescriptions.

All of us must be tired of hearing that forested land in Pakistan is a mere 5.2 per cent of the area as against the desirable world average of 25 per cent. Few realise that over 70 per cent of Pakistan is ecologically not meant for ‘green jungles’ but has always consisted of a scrub and thorny ecosystem. It was only due to the irrigation system that compact forests were grown in otherwise arid areas by the British early last century.

With a water crisis upon us, our green designs would need to be reviewed as we may soon be constrained to settle for an arid landscape in most of Pakistan, comprising patches of beri or kikar interspersed with shrubs and grasses.

And just by way of elucidation, increasing forest area in Pakistan by even one per cent would need a whopping Rs10bn, 6,000 cusecs of water and some 200,000 acres of land. Is it not high time to revisit our green dreams that are drummed into us during tree-planting campaigns for enhancing forest cover? The best that can be done is to advocate the planting of more trees on farmlands and give up the vision of achieving a 25 per cent forested area.

The writer has worked for the Punjab forest department.