Like many poor countries, isolated Bhutan is paying for the environmental damage wrought by the developed world and the expanding economies of nations such as China and India. But the added, perhaps more bitter, irony here is that Bhutan probably has done more to safeguard its environment than almost any other country. A land of breathtaking vistas, little pollution and great biodiversity, Bhutan regards conservation as one of its most important public-policy goals. Sustainable development is the official mantra. By law, the country’s forest cover must never drop below 60 per cent.
“This country is committed to being conducive to environmental sustainability and not to be harmful to the world, but the impact of climate change is coming anyway,” said Doley Tshering of the United Nations Development Program office in Thimphu. “You know you haven’t created the problem, (yet) you know you’re having the worst of it.”
Officials are also worried that any changes to Bhutan’s monsoon season could deal a blow to agriculture, the main source of income for about 70 per cent of the country’s population. But possibly the most dramatic effect of global warming on Bhutan can be seen in its glaciers — or, perhaps more accurately, not seen.
Experts estimate that Bhutan’s glaciers are retreating by as much as 100 feet annually. The loss has grave consequences for the country’s long-term development, because Bhutan relies heavily on selling hydroelectric power.
Of more immediate concern is the risk of floods from fast-filling glacial lakes. In 1994, the Luggye lake burst and sent water hurtling down into Punakha. Now, a neighbouring lake, the Thorthormi, poses an even greater peril. Fed by a separate glacier, the Thorthormi has bulked up to alarming size and is in danger of swamping a third body of water, the Raphstreng. In a nightmare scenario, the two lakes could merge, punch through the natural but unstable moraine dams holding them back and go cascading into the valley, picking up debris as they thunder downhill.
A 2002 study estimated that such a rupture could send 14 billion gallons of water barreling toward Punakha, though not all of it would reach the valley. Still, that is more than double the amount released in the ‘94 deluge and about the same volume that plunges over the top of Niagara Falls in five hours.
To try to prevent such a catastrophic flood, the government is set to embark on a four-year, $7-million project to relieve some of the pressure on the Thorthormi. The effort is fraught with difficulty. The lake is reachable only after 10 days’ hiking and only through 16,000-foot-high mountain passes from all directions.
Hauling major equipment there, let alone getting it to work in the thin, frigid air, is so tricky that digging the channels to siphon off water from the lake will have to be done mostly by hand. Weather conditions allow for work barely six months of the year.
Not that there is much choice.