Deluge and Disrepair: Bosnia’s 2025 Floods and the Crisis of Climate Vulnerability

Torrential rainfall in late March 2025 brought widespread flooding to Bosnia and Herzegovina, submerging thousands of homes and vast tracts of farmland. With up to 170 liters of rain per square meter falling in just 48 hours, this deluge overwhelmed already fragile infrastructure and exposed the country’s deep vulnerability to climate-driven weather events.

The city of Prijedor in the northwest was among the worst hit, as the Sana and Gomjenica rivers overflowed, flooding more than 800 homes. Local authorities declared a state of emergency, evacuating thousands. Roads became impassable, power outages spread, and rescue operations struggled to reach affected populations. Emergency services and volunteers used boats to transport food, water, and the stranded, while shelters—often overcrowded and under-equipped—sprang up in gyms and schools.

The floods devastated the agricultural sector. Crops weeks from harvest were destroyed, soil was degraded, and livestock drowned. For a country where farming remains vital, this represents both immediate economic loss and a longer-term threat to food security. Sanski Most also saw critical damage, with bridges and roads washed away, cutting off rural communities from aid. These events recall the 2014 floods—then the worst in 120 years—and more recently, the October 2024 floods in the south, where 27 people died, 19 in Donja Jablanica alone. In both past and present, local anger at government response has fueled protests, highlighting institutional dysfunction.

Meteorologists traced the 2025 flooding to a stationary low-pressure system—similar to that in 2014—compounded by inadequate flood defenses, deforestation, and poorly regulated construction. Experts have long warned that Bosnia’s outdated infrastructure cannot withstand intensifying weather extremes. Environmental degradation, such as illegal logging and riverbed alteration, has further reduced the land’s capacity to absorb water. Urbanization in flood-prone areas, often enabled by corruption or lack of planning enforcement, continues unabated.

Bosnia’s post-war political system, fragmented by the Dayton Accords, complicates emergency coordination. Prijedor, located in Republika Srpska, mobilized its own rescue units, but cooperation with state-level agencies was limited. International organizations, including the Red Cross, intervened, but logistical bottlenecks and damaged roads slowed delivery. The disjointed response reflects deeper structural issues: lack of unified planning, insufficient investment in prevention, and entrenched political rivalries.

Psychologically, the floods have retraumatized many who lived through prior disasters. The threat of landslides looms in mountainous terrain, and residents fear recurrence with every storm. Insurance is rare; recovery will rely heavily on diaspora remittances and charitable aid. Yet hopes for long-term rebuilding are tempered by widespread corruption and public distrust. Reconstruction will take months, if not years, and future agricultural cycles are already in jeopardy.

The 2025 floods are not isolated. They are part of an accelerating pattern of extreme weather linked to global climate change, with increasingly dire consequences for nations like Bosnia, where state capacity is weak and infrastructure degraded. Without systemic reforms—environmental, institutional, and infrastructural—the country remains perilously exposed. The floods are not only a humanitarian crisis but a signal of deeper fragility, where each disaster erodes resilience and increases the likelihood of the next.