Dilapidated Buildings: The Forewarning of an Impending Tragedy*

The architectural heritage embedded within Sindh’s urban and civilizational landscape has never been merely a collection of brick-and-mortar structures. These buildings embody the memories of generations, the wisdom of civic planning, and the evolving story of social life. Yet when this heritage falls prey to state negligence, flawed urban management, and the relentless force of climatic change, the damage does not remain confined to physical structures alone the very foundations of social existence begin to tremble. The recent report issued by the Technical Committee of the Sindh Building Control Authority, declaring 715 buildings across the province as dangerous, dilapidated, and unsafe for habitation, is therefore not a set of statistics it is the echo of an impending collective tragedy. Of these, 563 buildings are located in Karachi alone, a stark reminder that in the country’s largest metropolis and economic hub, construction ethics and safety standards have been pushed to a dangerous decline.

A large number of these unsafe structures are concentrated in District South, followed by District Central places where the modern urban skyline intersects with deeply rooted historical settlements. Many of these buildings are not merely residential flats; they are time-worn architectural landmarks that were once admired as masterpieces of construction and aesthetics. From a house along Clifton’s Marine Drive to aging residences in Upper Gizri, from the PIDC Flats in Bath Island to the upper floor of the ADC’s bungalow within the Governor House all these structures testify to a grim reality: a building may outwardly remain standing, yet crumble from within, turning not merely into a structural threat but into a danger to the sanctity of human life itself. Iconic heritage-era buildings in Saddar Town such as Nizam Mansion, Yousuf Mansion, and Akbar Mahal were once integral to the identity of the city. Today, they stand as somber symbols of administrative indifference.

This scenario is not confined to Karachi. The 152 dangerous buildings identified in Hyderabad, Sukkur, Mirpurkhas, and Larkana point toward a systemic provincial crisis rather than an isolated municipal failure. For years, these structures have been left to decay in the absence of timely repairs, maintenance, and structural assessment. The recent monsoon rains did not create this vulnerability they merely exposed the weakness that had long been accumulating within these structures. When neglected buildings continue to age without rehabilitation, the rains become nothing more than the final blow.

Perhaps the most painful aspect of this crisis is that many of these buildings are still inhabited. Families continue to spend their days and nights beneath fractured ceilings and weakened beams not by choice, but out of compulsion. The Authority’s warning that the next spell of rainfall could render these structures life-threatening is not a routine administrative notice; it is a prelude to potential disaster. We have already witnessed tragedies in the past collapsing roofs and crumbling walls burying entire households beneath debris yet our collective memory fades quickly, and danger gradually becomes normalized.

This situation compels us to confront some fundamental questions: How did matters deteriorate to this point? Have building regulations been reduced to ceremonial paperwork? Have greed, speculative land pricing, and unchecked commercialization swallowed construction ethics? And are responsible institutions limited only to issuing lists and notifications or do they possess any concrete and actionable strategy to address the crisis? In truth, identifying a dangerous building is only the first step. The real test lies in ensuring safe relocation of residents, providing alternative housing, and supervising the entire process with transparency and responsibility.

This crisis must not be viewed merely as an engineering challenge; it is also deeply social, economic, and administrative in nature. Most of the residents living in these risky structures belong to lower- and middle-income groups, for whom abandoning even a hazardous shelter is practically impossible. Rising rents, relocation expenses, and the fear of displacement stand before them like an immovable wall. In such circumstances, the responsibility of the state extends far beyond issuing warnings; it demands humane and compassionate intervention.

This situation also raises a crucial urban-cultural question: Do our cities possess reconstruction models that can preserve historical architecture while strengthening it structurally in line with modern safety standards? In many major cities around the world, heritage buildings are preserved through structural reinforcement and adaptive restoration. Here, however, an old building either becomes a target of commercial demolition or is left to collapse on its own. Both outcomes represent a profound cultural and social loss.

There is therefore an urgent need to treat this list of dangerous buildings not as a routine administrative report, but as the foundation of a comprehensive urban safety policy. The classification must clearly distinguish where immediate demolition is necessary, where structural strengthening and rehabilitation are feasible, and where heritage-based restoration must be prioritized. Alongside this, strict enforcement of building regulations from approval of architectural plans to post-construction inspection as well as legal accountability for violations, must be ensured as a binding obligation rather than a discretionary option.

This moment reminds us of a deeper truth: cities are not sustained merely by roads and buildings they are built upon shared responsibility. When the state, institutions, developers, investors, and citizens fail to assume accountability at their respective levels, cities gradually transform into landscapes of rubble. These 715 dangerous structures warn us that time has not yet slipped completely out of our hands but if negligence continues, the coming monsoon may no longer remain a seasonal event; it may turn into the beginning of a new tragedy.

Today, the greatest need is to move this issue beyond paperwork, and to approach it from the perspective of human life and dignity. Urban planning must rise above temporary administrative measures and evolve into a sustainable, transparent, and socially just framework. For when buildings begin to weaken, it is not only their walls that tremble the foundations of governance, social awareness, and human safety begin to shake as well. At this juncture, we stand between two possibilities: either the beginning of meaningful reform or yet another sorrowful chapter of avoidable loss.