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๐Ž๐๐ˆ๐๐ˆ๐Ž๐ – ๐‚๐ฅ๐ข๐ฆ๐š๐ญ๐ž ๐‚๐ซ๐ข๐ฌ๐ข๐ฌ ๐ƒ๐ž๐ฆ๐š๐ง๐๐ฌ ๐๐ก๐ฎ๐ญ๐š๐ง ๐ญ๐จ ๐‘๐ž๐ญ๐ก๐ข๐ง๐ค ๐ˆ๐ญ๐ฌ ๐๐š๐ญ๐ก ๐…๐จ๐ซ๐ฐ๐š๐ซ๐

The mountains of Bhutan have long stood as guardians of a way of life rooted in balance, humility and coexistence with nature. But the silence of these hills is now interrupted by rising heat, vanishing snow and the growing urgency of a climate reality that is reshaping the countryโ€™s foundations. The danger is not in the changes alone but in the reluctance to act swiftly and decisively. The future will not wait.

What was once viewed as a distant concern has arrived in tangible forms. Crops fail not because farmers lack skill, but because the rains no longer come when they should. Winters stretch long and unpredictable. Summer storms come with unusual violence. Rivers run dry or overflow without warning. The natural order, once dependable, is now in disorder. For a country that has always looked to its environment as both shelter and teacher, the disruption is personal.

The economy feels this change deeply. Bhutan has long placed its hopes on hydropower, presenting it as a clean and dependable source of national income. Yet today, this reliance begins to reveal a weakness. When rivers falter, energy production falls. When glaciers retreat, reservoirs decline. The very source of power becomes less reliable just as demand increases. What once powered economic confidence now raises doubts. To continue building on a fragile foundation without adjusting to this new reality is not foresight but oversight.

Agriculture tells a similar story. Farmers who once read the sky like a book now work from guesswork. Seeds fail in dry soil. Fields flood when they should be harvested. The link between farmer and land, which once produced food and income in harmony, is strained. Dependence on imported food grows as local harvests weaken. This increases not just economic pressure but also reduces self-reliance. The countryside begins to empty as young people abandon the soil for cities, or for opportunities beyond the border.

These changes are not isolated events. They create ripples that stretch into education, health, employment and migration. When a young graduate finds no opportunity at home, when a mother must buy imported vegetables she once grew herself, when a business owner faces energy shortages during the dry season, the effects of climate uncertainty become personal. These are not distant warnings. They are lived experiences. The slow burn of environmental change is already a national concern, even if it is not yet treated as such.

Policy has yet to match the pace of these transformations. While conversations about resilience and sustainability exist, they often remain at the level of reports and speeches. What is needed now is not more dialogue but tangible shifts. Energy planning must look beyond rivers and towards the sun and the wind. Agriculture must invest in climate-smart practices and water-efficient systems. Cities must be designed with green spaces, clean public transport and waste systems that protect rather than pollute.

Beyond the technical lies the cultural. Bhutan has long taken pride in its environmental stewardship. But pride alone does not protect against rising temperatures. It is not enough to celebrate carbon neutrality if vulnerability grows year by year. The story Bhutan tells the world must be matched by the story it lives at home. Leadership must be measured not in speeches made abroad but in actions taken within its own borders. This moment calls not for reassurance but for resolve.

There is also a need to reflect on what kind of growth the country seeks. Not all development is progress. Expanding road networks into fragile ecosystems or building towns without plans for rising heat or erratic rain is not advancement. It is an invitation to future crisis. The climate crisis requires more than adaptation. It demands redefinition. Growth must no longer mean more but must mean better. A better quality of life, not only in material terms, but in safety, sustainability and shared responsibility.

Education will be central to this rethinking. Schools must prepare young minds not only to pass exams but to solve problems their parents never faced. Climate literacy must move from textbooks into practice. Youth must not be trained to leave but to lead. They must be equipped to create new systems of food, energy and community that serve the nation in new conditions. This requires investment, innovation and the courage to abandon outdated models.
Bhutanโ€™s size is often framed as a limitation. But in this crisis, it can be its strength. Smaller systems are easier to reform. Fewer actors make for faster consensus. A close-knit society allows for deeper civic engagement. The country does not need to match the size of others to set an example. It needs to match its actions to its aspirations.

The climate will not wait. Bhutan must choose whether to respond in fragments or as a united front. Whether to plan for the next election cycle or the next generation. Whether to wait for more evidence or act on what is already known. The opportunity to lead is present, but it requires focus, urgency and imagination. This is no longer about preservation of nature alone. It is about preservation of identity, stability and hope.

If Bhutan rises to this challenge, it will not only survive a changing world. It will help shape it.

Pema Dorji, Thimphu

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