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IMAGINE: a five-star hotel spread over 25 acres (10 hectares) of land in the hills, nestled in a densely forested area in a region famed as much for its natural splendour as for its ability to provide mists and cool breezes within a two-hour drive from the capital. Add on these details: when the guests at the hotel tire of drinking in the serenity, they have recourse to an adventure park. Bungee jumping! Zip-lining! Climbing towers! A tree-top walkway!
These are the details of a project planned by the KP government in what is known as the Galiyat area of the foothills of the Himalayas near Islamabad. The hotel is planned for Changlagali, the resort for Nathiagali. Billions are to be spent, but large sums are also expected to be generated.
But there are several snags. The one that concerns me here is that the park project is intended to be executed on land reserved for forests. The country’s forest cover is already under stress, and the pine forests here are thousands of years old. Too often in Pakistan, natural environments are decimated for wrong-headed ‘development’ projects. The country is famous for neither its love of conservation, nor commitment to environmental protection. (However, the KP forest department has raised objections; it maintains that the existing law does not allow any department or entity to construct in reserved forest areas.)
The mountain springs are filled with trash and sewage.
The question is, though, are such projects deserving of public support? Around the world, the authorities must balance the demands of conservation, the environment, and heritage protection with the development and other needs of growing populations. I worry about those magnificent forests — but there is another view.
First, recreational opportunities in much of Pakistan are few and far between; where they exist, they are reserved for elites in that average citizens often find them prohibitively expensive. A theme park such as that described here would no doubt attract many tourists, and here lies the second point.
Projects such as these carry within them the potential to kick-start local economies. If KP were to execute it properly, dozens of local lads would find jobs in the construction work, in the service industry that would eventually emerge, as project managers and assistants and so on — the rates of education in this area are actually fairly robust.
Still, there is a ready example to compare KP’s grand idea to. Before the turn of the millennium, the then Sharif government decided to set up a similarly ambitious tourist draw on the Patriata crest on the Punjab side of the same hills. The New Murree project was envisioned as a means of bringing development to a string of hitherto sleepy villages, and meanwhile creating an alternative to the main Murree hill station whose resources were (and remain) severely under stress by the weight of visitors.
Patriata back then was a dense forest barely crisscrossed with horse trails. The road to the top was navigable only by a 4X4, and then too with an experienced mountain driver. Unlike Nathiagali and Changlagali now, that environment was pristine.
That was wiped away with a tarmac road to take tourists up; a chairlift and a cable car were installed from the base village bazaar of Gulehragali to the top; the mountain was cut away to accommodate a massive carpark; the pathways at the top became poured concrete. The project was never entirely completed but the chairlift is functional and there are a few shops, etc, at the top. Tourists flock by the thousands.
But the jobs that were expected went largely to non-locals, and the bazaar near the carpark was never improved. The area is a mess, everywhere, with the mountain springs filled with trash and sewage, and the ubiquitous empty crisp packet the most common object on the ground. The village remains a village, except that many that were growing their own produce now buy vegetables trucked in from the plains. The crime rate has increased. But the village elites, the few families that actually own the land, benefited as prices skyrocketed over the years.
One can argue, then, that development done badly is much worse than development never undertaken at all. KP can learn much from the mess that is New Murree. If it can sort out the issues detailed above, and related ones such as access roads, water supply, sewage lines, garbage collection and proper disposal — to say nothing of educating the public on littering and environmental protection — then more power to it. But neither the state nor indeed the people themselves provide much reason for keeping the faith. Things being as they are, I say, leave the forests alone.
The writer is a member of staff.
Published in Dawn, June 5th, 2017
