As a devastating earthquake struck Afghanistan on Monday, claiming dozens of lives, displacing thousands, and ravaged infrastructure, we in Jammu and Kashmir mush confront a haunting question: Have we learned anything from past calamities? The recent deluge, echoing the 2014 floods, is an example of persistent vulnerability of Jammu and Kashmir, an ecologically fragile region at the forefront of climate change. But to truly gauge our preparedness, we must revisit the cataclysmic 2005 Kashmir earthquake.

On October 8, 2005, a 7.6-magnitude quake struck, with its epicenter near Muzaffarabad in Pakistan-occupied Jammu and Kashmir, but its wrath extended to Uri and other parts of Jammu and Kashmir. In Uri, entire villages were obliterated; villages like Salamabad, Gingle, Karnah and others bore the brunt, with collapsed buildings burying families alive. The toll was staggering: over 79,000 dead, more than 32,000 buildings reduced to rubble, and nearly 100,000 injured across the region. Communication networks failed, health facilities were inadequate, and the absence of a robust disaster management policy only ended up intensifying the agony. Lessons were clear: we had to enforce seismic-resistant construction, improve early warning systems, and integrate community involvement in recovery. Yet, two decades later, are we any better equipped?
Fast-forward to 2025, and the signs are troubling. The ongoing floods have tested Jammu and Kashmir's disaster response, with agencies rescuing hundreds which is a positive note but it also reveals gaps in long-term preparedness. Recurring events, from the 2014 deluge to this year's landslides in Ramban, highlight how climate change, compounded by geopolitical tensions, heightens risks. Early warning systems exist, but implementation is faltering; infrastructure remains brittle, and our eco-fragile zones lack comprehensive risk assessments. If a quake akin to 2005 hit today, would our hospitals, schools, and roads withstand? The answer, based on recent assessments, may be a resounding no.
This unpreparedness is a symptom of a deeper malaise: our disregard for sustainable development. In disaster-prone Himalayas, unchecked urbanization, deforestation, and haphazard infrastructure projects aggravate vulnerabilities. Our policymakers prioritize short-term gains over resilience. We have witnessed proliferation of dams and roads that disrupt ecosystems, inviting floods and landslides and putting residential areas at risk. Instead, the government must integrate scientific knowledge into disaster risk management. Without these inclusions, development will become a liability, turning natural events into man-made catastrophes.
The tragic earthquake in Afghanistan serves as a stark reminder: Preparedness can not and should not become optional. The government must enforce a culture of resilient infrastructure and invest in early warnings —or risk repeating history's tragedies.