The decision to rebuild was immediate and unquestionable.
In a devastating half-minute on a Wednesday in May, a melting glacier unleashed a torrent of boulders, ice, and water, engulfing the recently evacuated homes and farms of Blatten. Before the week was out, authorities were already sketching blueprints for a new village, to rise in the very same valley, undeterred by the looming environmental challenges in the surrounding Alps.
Before this catastrophe, Blatten was a community of 300 souls, with some families tracing their roots back centuries. The precise location for the new settlement is still undecided, but Swiss taxpayers are facing a bill upwards of $100 million for its construction. Furthermore, an estimated $400 million in insurance funds are earmarked for the reconstruction effort.
This situation serves as a stark, high-altitude illustration of the immense financial and emotional burdens that a warming climate is imposing across Europe.
Months later, the Lötschental Valley is still grappling with profound questions. Locals and officials ponder how quickly red tape can be cut to facilitate new home construction, how many displaced residents will return to the reimagined Blatten, and how they will contend with the perpetual threat of the glacier. This colossal mass of ice now sprawls over the village ruins like a dormant, dying dragon, continually melting and shifting, obscuring any clear answer about safe areas for resettlement.
Crucially, neither the local leadership nor any resident I spoke with during a recent visit to the valley questioned whether the villagers should leave the mountains entirely. For them, this isn’t just about relocating; it’s an existential matter tied to Swiss identity and the very concept of Alpine habitation.
“Our hearts belong here,” declared Daniel Ritler, a lifelong resident of Blatten who lost his home, extensive farm, and tourist guest rooms. “This was our paradise.”
Franziska Biner, who heads Valais canton’s energy and finance department and is overseeing the rebuilding, emphasized the government’s stance. “We cannot tell everyone they must abandon dangerous areas,” she stated in an interview, “because then we would have to abandon the entire canton.”
For years, researchers have sounded the alarm about the escalating threats climate change—driven primarily by fossil fuel combustion—poses to communities and infrastructure in mountainous regions such as the Alps.
According to Swiss scientists, the country is experiencing warming at twice the global average rate. These rising temperatures are melting permafrost, which essentially acts as a natural adhesive for mountainsides, dramatically increasing the risk of swift and deadly landslides and rockfalls.
Beyond the immediate dangers, warming temperatures are also diminishing the quality of ski seasons, directly impacting the vital tourism revenue that sustains many Alpine economies. While researchers anticipate a reduction in avalanche damage in future decades due to less snow, this unfortunate trade-off offers little cause for celebration among the Swiss.
However, no climate impact has struck the Alps as severely as the accelerating loss of glaciers. Swiss glaciers, according to scientists, shed over 40% of their ice volume between 1980 and 2016, followed by another staggering 10% loss in just 2022 and 2023 alone. Neighboring Austria and France report similar alarming reductions. In Valais canton, a staggering 80 glaciers are now categorized by researchers as posing potential threats to human life or property.
As the residents of Blatten tragically discovered in May, weakening glaciers can collapse with terrifying speed.
For generations, the Birch Glacier stood as a silent sentinel above Lötschental village. But its ice was receding, and the permafrost above it was thawing. Constant rockfalls further destabilized it. Researchers, keenly observing for danger signs, identified critical changes last spring, prompting the swift evacuation of the village.
Just days later, Lars Gustke, who manages a cable car on the opposite side of the valley, witnessed the horrifying collapse of the glacier above Blatten. The massive icefall, dragging huge sections of the mountain with it, obliterated homes and created a natural dam across the valley river, rapidly forming a lake that submerged additional structures.
On that fateful day, Nicole Kalbermatten and Lilian Ritler—a distant cousin in a village teeming with Ritlers—were working at the Lötschental Marketing AG, the valley’s tourism board, located below the cable car station. As the lights flickered momentarily before returning, Ms. Ritler instinctively opened a window. A powerful pressure wave, generated by the descending glacier, instantly slammed into the building. Ms. Ritler rushed to find her best friend from the village, Ms. Kalbermatten.
“Blatten,” she exclaimed, her voice heavy with disbelief, “is gone.”
Three hotels, once bustling with skiers and hikers, were no more. The ancient barns in the village’s oldest quarter had vanished. Even the cherished communal oven, where generations had baked bread, was lost.
Miraculously, only one resident perished, a testament to the effectiveness of the early warning and swift evacuation. The newly displaced found refuge with friends in nearby villages or in unoccupied vacation homes generously offered by strangers. Then came the profound grief. “You don’t just lose your house,” Ms. Ritler reflected, “you lose the familiar paths, the church, your entire childhood.”
Yet, the village’s spirit, or at least its name, remains. Swiss officials are unwavering in their commitment to its resurrection.
Within a week of the disaster, Ms. Biner and her cantonal council colleagues resolved to rebuild. By September, they unveiled a five-year plan, envisioning the first residents returning to new homes as early as next year. Generous aid has poured in, with approximately $75 million secured from private donors, non-profits, and government agencies. The state itself has committed about $125 million, with insurance payouts projected to contribute another $400 million.
“The new Blatten will inevitably be different. The memories, in a sense, have been evacuated alongside the people,” remarked Mayor Matthias Bellwald in an interview conducted where the road to the former village now ends. “It will undoubtedly be a modern village, a beautiful village.”
To inform the selection of a new site, government experts are meticulously updating the valley’s hazard map, accounting for avalanches, rockfalls, and other climate-influenced natural disasters. The unstable glacier itself remains the most significant and unpredictable factor.
“It’s still moving, and the ice still has to melt,” Ms. Biner explained, highlighting the ongoing unpredictability. “There’s a lake that formed because of this massive ice. As long as that mass shifts, the lake shifts,” presenting considerable hurdles for any new construction.
A comprehensive understanding of the risks for a new village could take many years to emerge.
Returning to the buried and flooded ruins has been a deeply traumatic experience for displaced residents, who have also suffered significant economic losses. The disaster crippled the valley’s summer tourist season and is expected to impact winter revenues in surrounding villages where many former Blatten residents now work. While villagers weigh the decision of relocating to the new Blatten or remaining in their current temporary homes, very few contemplate leaving the Alps altogether.
Globally, some observers have questioned the wisdom of rebuilding communities in areas increasingly prone to climate-induced disasters, citing examples such as regions in the United States repeatedly affected by floods or rising sea levels.
Such skepticism, however, is uncommon in Switzerland. The Blatten rebuilding initiative enjoys strong parliamentary support, echoed by most civic leaders. Throughout my reporting, a consistent message emerged: Alpine life is fundamental to Swiss identity, even for those residing in major cities like Zurich or Geneva.
“I’m content to pay my taxes, and I believe most people are too, to ensure these valleys remain populated,” stated Flavio Anselmetti, a geologist at the University of Bern in Switzerland.
However, Anselmetti cautioned that as rising temperatures alter risk assessments in mountainous zones, “certain areas will inevitably be deemed unsuitable for rebuilding. In such cases, residents would be compensated, with society, the village, or the state providing funds or land for relocation elsewhere.”
Mr. Ritler and his wife, Karin, briefly considered leaving the Alps entirely. Ultimately, they chose to remain, not in the planned new Blatten, but in a nearby village where they are restoring an old hotel, contributing to the region’s tourism revitalization.
Acknowledging the inherent risks of living in the valley, Mr. Ritler asserted that the Alps are simply too deeply woven into the fabric of his life to abandon.
“I told Karin, ‘If fear becomes an issue, we need to discuss it,’” he recounted. “But for me, personally, it’s not a concern.”
“We must always respect nature,” he concluded. “We are fortunate to have been evacuated, and lucky to be healthy and capable. With these two hands, we intend to build anew.”
Tatiana Firsova also contributed to this report.