When Mountains Cry: Gilgit-Baltistan’s Vanishing Forests and Looming Ecological Collapse
Amid the soaring peaks of the Karakoram and the silent tread of ancient glaciers, Gilgit-Baltistan (GB) stands as one of South Asia’s most fragile ecological frontiers, rich in natural beauty, yet increasingly burdened by environmental neglect. In the heart of this landscape lies Gilgit City, once a cradle of traditional wisdom, pristine water streams, and aromatic forest canopies, now transformed into a pressure chamber of concrete sprawl, ecological instability, and alarming climate-induced disasters. The unchecked influx of non-local settlers, aggressive urbanization, illegal logging, and the systemic dismantling of forest and watershed ecosystems have placed this region on a trajectory of irreversible damage.
The forests of GB though already among the sparsest in Pakistan, have suffered staggering depletion. In the last two decades alone, forest cover has plummeted from approximately 640,000 hectares to just 295,000 hectares, a decline of more than 50%. Once covering about 5% of the region, forests now occupy only 3.6% of the land, far below the ecological threshold needed to sustain hydrological and soil stability. The causes of this decline are manifold, ranging from the desperation of fuel-deprived winters and illegal logging to a near-total failure in sustainable planning and enforcement. According to recent environmental assessments, over 170,000 trees are felled annually in GB, often for fuel, construction, and a growing trend among elites who use rare, high-altitude wood species like deodar, walnut, and cedar, as decorative panelling in their homes and offices, effectively reducing living forests to interior design statements.
The consequences of this deforestation are stark and swiftly unfolding. GB hosts over 7,000 glaciers and 3,044 glacial lakes, of which at least 33 are designated as “high-risk.” These glacial reservoirs feed approximately 70% of Pakistan’s Indus River system, making their stability vital for national water security. However, accelerated glacier retreat fuelled by rising local temperatures of up to 4–5°C above historical averages has rendered the region catastrophically vulnerable. In the summer of 2025 alone, the region experienced record-breaking temperatures nearing 48.5°C, triggering massive floods that claimed 72 lives, swept away critical infrastructure, and destroyed swathes of farmland. Across GB, monsoon floods and landslides have become near-annual calamities, a direct result of barren mountain slopes, stripped of their natural arboreal armour.
Nowhere is the devastation more visible than in Gilgit City, the provincial capital and administrative epicentre. Originally designed to support a population of around 200,000, the city now buckles under the weight of above 500,000 residents, largely due to unchecked migration from other regions of Pakistan. This influx has driven an unprecedented wave of land conversion, whereby lush riverine belts, grazing pastures, and medicinal shrub-lands have been paved over to make room for housing colonies, shopping centres, roads, and industrial yards. Streams such as Jutial Nala and Khomar Nala, once lined with mulberry, chinar, and the locally cherished aromatic “Gunair” tree, are now narrowed, polluted, and frequently choked by plastic, sewage, and construction debris. These trees, once medicinal guardians of public health and providers of clean air and filtered water, have been removed without regard for their ecological function, replaced instead with steel bars and tar.
Such developments have not only accelerated the pace of climate-induced disasters but have also corroded public health. A recent analysis of Gilgit’s municipal water revealed dangerously high turbidity levels (up to 10 NTU) and 100% microbial contamination including fecal coliforms and E. coli, making it unsafe for human consumption. With over 11 tons of plastic waste generated monthly in Gilgit City alone, less than 5% of which is recycled, open dumping and burning have become routine. The air, once pristine, is now laced with carcinogenic dioxins and furans, leading to increased respiratory and cardiovascular illnesses. Yet, amid this crisis, local and provincial authorities have failed to implement even the most basic waste segregation, water treatment, or pollution control protocols.
The toll on wildlife is equally alarming. GB is home to some of the world’s most elusive and endangered species, snow leopards, Astor markhor, Himalayan ibex, and brown bears. These animals are not merely icons of biodiversity; they are critical to ecosystem regulation and local heritage. Yet, as forested corridors vanish and alpine habitats fragment, these species face increasing threats of starvation, poaching, and climate displacement. The snow leopard, with an estimated 300–400 individuals in Pakistan (80% of which are believed to reside in GB), may lose up to 30% of its viable habitat in the coming decades due to warming alone. Meanwhile, community-managed conservation areas (CMCAs) remain poorly funded, inadequately staffed, and insufficiently expansive to ensure meaningful protection. The tragic irony is that while these species dwindle in the wild, stuffed specimens and ivory-panelled walls featuring their likenesses adorn the homes of powerful elites often the very same people responsible for environmental policy lapses.
Even education and infrastructure have not been spared. The catastrophic floods of 2022 and 2025 damaged over 25 health facilities and more than 40 schools, disrupting services for nearly 10,000 children. Despite the presence of Karakoram International University (KIU) in Gilgit and the University of Baltistan in Skardu (UoBS), there remains a glaring lack of environmental education, research capacity, and institutional response. GB’s literacy rate hovers around 65.6%, yet access to climate-smart technologies and environmental stewardship programs is still minimal, especially in rural and peri-urban zones.
Meanwhile, agriculture on barely 2% of GB’s terrain has become increasingly unsustainable. With up to 70% of irrigation water lost before reaching fields, and soil erosion accelerating due to overgrazing and deforestation, food security in the region is under existential threat. Traditional farming systems that once maintained ecological equilibrium are now failing, not just from environmental pressures but also from the aggressive push toward urbanization and land speculation.
Efforts to mitigate these issues remain fragmentary and underfunded. Initiatives such as AKRSP-led reforestation campaigns and GB-EPA’s Green Business Program, which promote plastic alternatives and native planting, offer glimpses of hope but lack scale. Proposals to desilt Gilgit’s clogged waterways, restore mulberry and chinar belts, and develop climate-resilient infrastructure have been met with bureaucratic inertia and piecemeal execution. The urgency to act is clear, yet the political will and societal coordination required remain elusive.
GB today stands at a pivotal crossroads. Its natural wealth, glaciers, forests, wildlife, and water once its greatest strength, is now its most vulnerable liability. The unchecked sprawl of Gilgit City, driven by non-local migration, short-sighted infrastructure development, and ruthless forest removal, has eroded not only the region’s ecological integrity but also its cultural and environmental soul. Without immediate and coordinated intervention through legislation, enforcement, education, and restoration, this mountain paradise risks becoming a blueprint for environmental collapse. It is not merely a regional concern but a national emergency. The mountains are crying; it is time we listen before their silence becomes permanent.
