SINCE 1 June 2025, Karachi has experienced over 55 low-intensity earthquakes.
While these tremors might seem negligible on a global seismic scale, they are deeply unsettling for a city once thought to be relatively stable. Each jolt fuels public fear and speculation, yet the official response remains disappointingly vague — offering no detailed advisories, no risk assessments and no preventive plans. Just routine statements and generic advice.
A new international study has now validated public concern. A comprehensive report by Singapore’s Nanyang Technological University (NTU) confirms that parts of Karachi — especially Landhi and Malir — are literally sinking. From 2014 to 2020, these areas have subsided by 15.7 centimeters, making Karachi one of the fastest-sinking cities globally. Only Tianjin in China has reported a faster rate. The NTU attributes this subsidence to two major factors: unchecked groundwater extraction and unregulated construction of high-rise buildings.
With many areas of Karachi deprived of a reliable municipal water supply, residents are compelled to drill borewells — sometimes as deep as 200 feet — simply to access basic water for drinking and cooking. This desperate, unregulated extraction disrupts the soil’s natural balance, creating underground voids that weaken the city’s foundation. As the soil dries and hollows, its ability to absorb seismic energy diminishes, making even minor quakes more perilous.
Compounding the issue is Karachi’s relentless construction boom. Open green spaces, parks and playgrounds are being replaced by clusters of heavy concrete towers. These multi-story buildings are being built with little regard for geological risk, adding weight and pressure to already compromised ground. Despite growing concerns, construction continues unabated, ignoring the vulnerabilities of the very land they stand on.
For the average Karachiite, this crisis is lived daily. Families in Landhi, Malir, Korangi and parts of Gulshan struggle with unreliable water, cracked streets and fragile homes. They raise funds to drill wells, only to find salty or undrinkable water. Children play near fractured pavements, while their homes are dwarfed by unsafe high-rises. Their anxiety grows with each tremor, but official silence persists.
What makes the crisis even more disturbing is the lack of governmental urgency. While countries like Singapore have addressed subsidence with building restrictions and long-term planning, Karachi’s authorities remain largely indifferent. No seismic hazard maps have been issued, no red zones marked and no construction bans enforced in high-risk zones. Instead, officials downplay the tremors as “routine,” offering vague reassurances in place of actionable plans.
If this neglect continues, Karachi’s future looks bleak. Subsiding ground will heighten flood risk as sunken areas struggle to drain rainwater. Cracks will widen, buildings may collapse — not from one major quake, but from years of soil fatigue. Water will grow scarcer and harder to reach, driving deeper and more dangerous boring. Ultimately, many in low-income neighborhoods may be forced to abandon their homes due to slow, creeping displacement.
The NTU report is not just a warning — it is a call to action. Karachi must reduce groundwater extraction, restore public water infrastructure, regulate high-rise construction and protect its natural buffers. Time is running out. Karachi isn’t just vulnerable — it is teetering on borrowed time.
—The writer is a human rights activist, based in Karachi.
