Flash Floods and Forgotten Laborers: The Human Cost of Hydropower in Nepal

The catastrophic flash floods that ravaged Nepal last week have left a trail of destruction and despair. One aspect of this tragedy has largely gone unexamined, however: the role of laborers like Pemba Dundu Tamang, who toil in tunnels beneath the Trishuli River. As workers on hydropower projects, they are often invisible to the public eye, yet their stories reveal a disturbing pattern of neglect and disregard for human life.

Over 1,000 people have died, with another 4,000 still missing, including many laborers working on these very tunnels. Theirs is a thankless job, performed in hazardous conditions without adequate protection or compensation. Tamang’s account of the floodwaters chasing him uphill for 20 minutes is a harrowing testament to the perils they face every day.

The hydropower industry has long been touted as a vital component of Nepal’s economy, generating over 99% of the country’s electricity. However, what does it truly cost? The construction of these projects requires an army of workers who are often treated as disposable assets rather than human beings with families and lives. Tamang lost six relatives in the floods, including his mother, brother, and three young nieces and nephews.

As experts from China, India, and Nepal continue to excavate debris from the hydropower sites, it becomes clear that the disaster was not just a natural phenomenon but also a symptom of systemic failures. Satellite images taken days before the disaster showed growing instability around the glacier, while better early warning systems could have potentially saved lives.

Tamang’s words are haunting: “The dead are at peace. It is those of us who survived who suffer.” His despair is palpable as he grapples with the loss of his loved ones and the uncertainty of his own future. Will these hydropower projects be shut down, or will they continue to thrive despite the human cost?

The international community must take note: this disaster is not just a local tragedy but also a symptom of a broader problem – the prioritization of economic interests over human lives. As we continue to explore and exploit natural resources, we must acknowledge the people who work in these industries and demand better working conditions, compensation, and protection.

Tamang’s story serves as a stark reminder of what happens when we forget the laborers behind the power plants. It is time for us to shine a light on their struggles, listen to their voices, and hold accountable those responsible for their suffering. Only then can we truly understand the human cost of hydropower in Nepal.

The army’s rescue efforts are ongoing, but what about the long-term consequences? Will these workers be compensated for their losses, or will they continue to face uncertainty and hardship? The answers lie not just in the rescue operation but also in the policies and practices that govern this industry. It is high time for a reckoning.

The hydropower industry’s priorities have been laid bare by this disaster: profits over people, growth over safety. But what about the future of these workers? Will they continue to be treated as expendable pawns in the pursuit of electricity generation, or will their stories spark meaningful change?

As Tamang and his colleagues struggle to come to terms with their loss, we must ask ourselves: what does it truly mean to prioritize economic development over human lives? Is the cost of power worth the price of people’s suffering? The answer lies not in statistics or reports but in the eyes of those who have lost everything.