Himangshu Ranjan Bhuyan
(hrbhuyancolumnist@gmail.com)
Flowing through some of the most sensitive political geographies of Asia, the Brahmaputra is not merely a river but a lifeline that sustains millions, a strategic resource that influences power equations, and a cultural symbol that binds communities across borders. Originating as the Yarlung Zangbo on the Tibetan plateau, winding through the precipitous gorges of the Great Bend before entering Arunachal Pradesh as the Siang, spreading majestically as the Brahmaputra through Assam, and finally merging with the Ganges as the Jamuna in Bangladesh, its journey embodies both ecological abundance and geopolitical tension. The river, over 2,900 kilometres long, nourishes fertile plains, supports agriculture and fisheries, powers hydropower ambitions, and shapes the rhythms of life in the region. Yet its waters have increasingly become entangled in disputes over sovereignty, control, and survival in a century defined by environmental uncertainty and strategic rivalry.
China, occupying the upstream source, commands a powerful advantage. Over the last two decades, Beijing has intensified its interest in harnessing the Yarlung Zangbo’s hydropower potential, culminating in the announcement of one of the largest dam projects in human history along the Great Bend. The project, presented as a run-of-the-river scheme that would not divert flows downstream, has nonetheless ignited deep unease in India and Bangladesh. The sheer scale of construction in a seismically fragile and ecologically sensitive zone raises risks of ecological disruption, landslides, and altered sedimentation. Beyond environmental concerns, the politics of control is undeniable. In a region where China and India share not just borders but an adversarial strategic rivalry, Beijing’s upstream projects are viewed in New Delhi as instruments of leverage that could be wielded in times of conflict.
India, downstream yet powerful in its own right, has not remained passive. Plans for large-scale dams on the Siang, Lohit, and Subansiri rivers in Arunachal Pradesh are framed as both developmental necessities and strategic counterweights. The proposed Upper Siang project, envisaged as one of the largest hydropower projects in the country, is often justified not only for electricity generation and flood moderation but also as a geopolitical assertion of riparian rights. Yet these ambitions face resistance from within, as communities in the northeast raise concerns about ecological destruction, seismic risks, and the displacement of indigenous populations. The Brahmaputra, for India, is both a strategic resource to be guarded against external vulnerabilities and a deeply sensitive ecological entity demanding careful stewardship.
Bangladesh, at the tail end of the river system, faces the most acute vulnerability. With its densely populated deltaic plains, fragile ecology, and heavy dependence on transboundary flows, any upstream manipulation—whether by China or India—magnifies the risks of flooding, drought, or salinity intrusion. For Dhaka, the Brahmaputra is not just about hydropower or security but about existential survival. Its anxieties are compounded by the unresolved Teesta water-sharing issue with India, which has lingered for decades, reflecting how even bilateral negotiations on smaller rivers remain fraught with political sensitivities. The absence of a comprehensive, basin-wide water-sharing treaty for the Brahmaputra stands in stark contrast to its immense significance for all three nations.
The discourse on the Brahmaputra is often dominated by alarmist predictions of “water wars”, but reality is more complex. Hydrological data indicates that the Tibetan contribution to the Brahmaputra’s total discharge is much smaller than popular perception, with the majority of its flow generated by rainfall-fed tributaries in India’s northeast. This diminishes the possibility of Beijing weaponising water to the extent often imagined. Yet the fear of manipulation persists not only because of hydrology but also because of geopolitics. In an environment of deep mistrust, even the perception of control can be as consequential as actual capability. Information asymmetry exacerbates these tensions. China’s limited transparency in sharing hydrological data has repeatedly fuelled suspicions in India and Bangladesh, especially during flood events.
Climate change compounds these uncertainties. The Himalayan glaciers that feed the river are retreating, while erratic monsoons increase the unpredictability of floods and droughts. Rising temperatures and altered precipitation patterns will likely intensify the Brahmaputra’s volatility, with more extreme flood events and dry spells in the coming decades. For communities living in Assam’s floodplains or Bangladesh’s delta, climate variability is not an abstract scenario but a lived reality, manifested in recurrent displacement, crop failures, and erosion of riverine islands. The interplay of climate change with geopolitical rivalry makes the governance of the Brahmaputra a pressing issue of regional security, not merely environmental management.
Attempts at institutional cooperation have been uneven and fragile. While India and China have signed agreements for hydrological data sharing during monsoon months, these arrangements remain limited and vulnerable to suspension during periods of bilateral tension. Between India and Bangladesh, the Joint Rivers Commission has existed for decades but has struggled to resolve core disputes like the Teesta agreement. Multilateral frameworks encompassing all three riparian states are absent, despite calls from scholars and environmentalists for a basin-wide approach. The Brahmaputra Basin remains one of the least integrated major river basins in the world, despite its critical importance for food security, energy, and disaster management.
The geopolitics of the Brahmaputra is thus shaped not only by resource competition but also by the absence of trust and institutionalised dialogue. China sees hydropower as a domestic development priority and a strategic assertion of sovereignty over Tibet; India views the river as both an opportunity for energy and an arena of vulnerability, while Bangladesh grapples with the implications of being the most downstream and least powerful player. This asymmetry of power complicates cooperation, as stronger actors prioritise national sovereignty over shared governance. Yet without collaboration, the risks multiply: ecological fragility, humanitarian disasters from floods, and political volatility in a region already marked by contested borders and strategic rivalries.
The way forward demands a reframing of the river from a zero-sum strategic asset to a shared ecological system. Strengthening data-sharing mechanisms is an essential starting point, allowing for greater transparency on flow variations, sediment loads, and dam operations. Confidence-building through technical cooperation—such as joint flood forecasting, disaster management training, and ecological monitoring—could gradually build trust where political agreements falter. Lessons can be drawn from other river basins where cooperative frameworks, though imperfect, have helped transform potential flashpoints into platforms for dialogue.
Equally important is integrating climate adaptation into river governance. Rather than competing mega-dams that ignore ecological fragility, riparian states could explore cooperative projects that combine flood control, renewable energy, navigation, and ecological conservation. Community participation, particularly of indigenous and riverine populations, must become central to policymaking, for it is these communities who bear the brunt of dislocation and ecological change. The Brahmaputra’s immense cultural significance in Assam and its role in shaping the identity of people across northeast India and Bangladesh remind us that it is not merely a resource to be exploited but a heritage to be protected.
The Brahmaputra embodies both danger and opportunity. Danger lies in unilateralism, secrecy, and the militarisation of river politics. Opportunity lies in recognising water as a connector, not a weapon. In an era where climate change is redrawing hydrological maps and displacing millions, cooperation over shared rivers is not optional but imperative. The geopolitics of water sharing in the Brahmaputra basin will test whether Asia’s powers can rise above rivalry to embrace collective survival. The river carries within its currents not just water but the fragile promise of regional peace.