South Asia finds itself in the crosshairs of two converging crises: the relentless advance of climate change and the persistent specter of military conflict, particularly between nuclear-armed neighbors India and Pakistan. As the region reels from record-breaking floods, heatwaves, and droughts, the choices made in the security sphere are increasingly shaping—and sometimes undermining—the prospects for climate resilience and human security.
The year 2025 has proven especially turbulent for South Asia. According to CEOBS, both India and Pakistan suffered major floods, with losses running into billions of dollars. Pakistan’s 2022 floods alone affected nearly 33 million people, triggering mass displacement, climate-induced migration, and widespread destruction of livelihoods. In India, recent deluges in Punjab—a crucial agricultural heartland—displaced over 300,000 people, compounding worries about food security and economic stability.
Yet, while these environmental catastrophes escalate, military budgets and postures in the region are on the rise. Pakistan spends around 2.2% of its GDP—about $9 billion annually—on its military, a figure justified by the government as necessary to counter perceived threats from India. India, meanwhile, is set to spend $78 billion on its military in 2025, representing a 9.5% increase from previous years, with a quarter earmarked for pensions. These staggering sums, as highlighted by CEOBS, come at a time when both nations face mounting climate adaptation and mitigation needs, and when the military’s carbon footprint is rarely scrutinized.
Underlying this arms race is a deeply entrenched rivalry. In May 2025, India launched punitive military operations in response to a major cross-border terror attack that, according to THE WEEK, was orchestrated by Pakistan’s so-called “deep state”—the nexus between the Pakistani Army and its terrorist proxies. The result was a four-day armed conflict that dramatically underscored the volatility of the region, as two nuclear-armed states traded blows both militarily and rhetorically.
This pattern of violence is hardly new. Pakistan’s state identity, as described in THE WEEK, is rooted in religious nationalism and opposition to India, a stance that justifies the military’s dominance and its substantial defense budget. The Pakistani Army, seeking to maintain its political supremacy, has long used terrorism as a tool of statecraft—both to unsettle India and to secure external funding, notably from China. Since the 1980s, Pakistan has institutionalized terrorism through groups such as Lashkar-e-Taiba, Jaish-e-Mohammed, and Hizbul Mujahideen, aiming to destabilize Jammu and Kashmir and achieve strategic parity with India, even as India’s economic and military power has grown.
These security dynamics have profound implications for environmental policy and human security. The militarization of state responses to climate disasters is becoming more common. Militaries in both countries are increasingly called upon to respond to environmental emergencies, a trend that, according to CEOBS, risks “securitizing” environmental policy and giving the military a license to further degrade the environment. For example, Pakistan’s primary disaster mitigation authority is run by a serving general, blurring the lines between civilian and military oversight.
Meanwhile, the environmental costs of military activity—especially air operations—are significant. In May 2025, South Asia witnessed one of the largest aerial battles in decades, with 110 fighter jets facing off. Training and deployment of such aircraft are notoriously carbon-intensive, adding to the region’s greenhouse gas emissions. Between 2016 and 2020, Pakistan was responsible for 2.7% of global arms imports, while India accounted for 9.5%, highlighting the scale of ongoing militarization.
The opportunity costs are equally stark. Pakistan has pledged to reduce its annual greenhouse gas emissions by 20% by 2030 and claims it needs $40-50 billion annually in climate finance. Yet, despite spending $23 billion annually on debt servicing, it decided to hike its defense budget by 20% this year. As CEOBS notes, “policy incoherence” of this kind not only results in larger militaries—contributing further to the climate crisis—but also diverts critical resources away from adaptation measures, leaving communities more exposed to disasters of increasing frequency and severity.
India, for its part, faces mounting pressure to modernize its military in the face of persistent threats. THE WEEK argues that India must maintain “military preparedness, modernisation, and a proactive defense posture” to deter and respond rapidly to Pakistan’s terrorism-based provocations. This includes developing advanced capabilities such as drone integration, precision munitions, and robust cyber and space operations, as well as greater integration among the Army, Navy, and Air Force through initiatives like Integrated Theatre Commands.
But the focus on security comes at a cost. The Himalayas—whose glaciers supply water to hundreds of millions—are melting at an alarming rate, creating thousands of glacial lakes that pose significant flood risks. The Indian Ocean is warming, threatening fisheries and shifting vital weather patterns. Increasing temperatures are expected to hit agriculture, health, and entire ecosystems hard. Yet, as both countries pour resources into military modernization, the funds available for climate adaptation and cross-border cooperation dwindle.
Diplomatically, the situation is equally fraught. Pakistan, despite its support for terrorism, has managed to evade serious international repercussions, thanks in part to steadfast backing from China and diplomatic engagement with the US and Saudi Arabia. Following the May 2025 conflict, Pakistan’s improved ties with the US and the signing of a Saudi-Pakistan Defence Agreement have emboldened its stance against India, while India’s own relations with the US have grown more complicated. This shifting geopolitical landscape raises the risk of renewed and escalated confrontation, especially as domestic pressures in both countries push leaders toward more aggressive postures.
Perhaps most troubling is the lack of cross-border cooperation in the face of shared environmental threats. The 2025 monsoon floods in the Indus basin, for example, were managed in isolation by India and Pakistan, with little coordination. As CEOBS observes, “the impact on people and infrastructure could have been reduced through better cross-border coordination.” Instead, the region’s climate security is viewed through the narrow lens of nuclear competition and militarism, detracting from genuine solutions and reducing the potential for regional cooperation.
Looking ahead, the persistence of terror as an instrument of Pakistani policy is deeply rooted in its civil-military imbalance and entrenched jihadist networks. As long as these internal dynamics remain unaddressed, the compulsion toward terrorism—and the resulting military escalation—will continue to sap resources and attention from the urgent task of building climate resilience. For India, the challenge is to impose clear costs for continued support of terrorism while seeking broader international support to compel change in Pakistan’s approach. For both nations, the imperative is to recognize that security cannot be achieved through militarization alone—especially in a region where the greatest threats may come not from across the border, but from the changing climate itself.
In South Asia, the stakes have never been higher: the choices made today will determine not only the region’s security, but its very survival in the face of a warming world.
