Indus Treaty: India’s water gambit shakes Pakistan
Dipak Kurmi
(The writer can be reached at dipakkurmiglpltd@gmail.com)
In a dramatic escalation with potentially far-reaching consequences for South Asian stability, India’s renewed threat to renegotiate or abrogate the Indus Waters Treaty (IWT) has triggered alarm bells in Pakistan. For over six decades, the IWT has been regarded as a rare example of functional diplomacy between two rival nations, having endured wars, border skirmishes, and decades of mutual suspicion. Yet, in the wake of recent terror attacks such as the Pahalgam massacre, India’s growing frustration with cross-border militancy has pushed it to reconsider even this last bastion of bilateral cooperation.
Signed in 1960 under the aegis of the World Bank, the Indus Waters Treaty assigned exclusive rights over the eastern rivers—Ravi, Beas, and Sutlej—to India, while granting Pakistan control over the western rivers—Indus, Jhelum, and Chenab. This division has proven vital for Pakistan, whose topography and climate render it extraordinarily dependent on these waters. With a meagre average annual rainfall of just 240 mm, Pakistan relies on the western rivers for 90% of its freshwater needs. The Indus basin irrigates around 80% of its arable land and supports over 90% of its food production. Over 240 million people, predominantly rural, depend on the waters of the Indus system for survival.
Beyond agriculture, the western rivers also fuel Pakistan’s hydroelectricity infrastructure. Iconic dams like Tarbela and Mangla generate nearly 30% of the country’s electricity. Any disruption in river flows would therefore threaten not only food and water security but also plunge Pakistan’s already strained economy into an energy crisis. The stakes could not be higher. A 2018 International Monetary Fund report ranked Pakistan among the top three nations at greatest risk of severe water scarcity. As climate change accelerates glacial melt and alters monsoon patterns, the crisis looms even larger. Although glacial melt temporarily increases water availability, experts forecast steep declines in river flow by 2030.
If India were to abrogate the treaty and act upon its long-standing warnings—such as Prime Minister Narendra Modi’s ominous declaration that “blood and water cannot flow together”—the consequences for Pakistan could be apocalyptic. Experts estimate that a full-scale cutoff of the Indus, Jhelum, and Chenab could reduce Pakistan’s water availability by up to 70%. Fertile provinces like Punjab and Sindh would likely be transformed into barren expanses. The agricultural backbone—primarily wheat and rice, which occupy nearly 80% of cultivated land—could collapse. According to the Food and Agriculture Organisation, even a 50% drop in irrigation would slash yields by half, pushing millions into hunger and deepening poverty across the nation.
The fallout would extend beyond the fields. With 68% of Pakistan’s population living in rural areas, mass displacement would be inevitable. Urban centres like Lahore, Karachi, and Islamabad, already stretched thin by population pressures, would be flooded with climate refugees. The strain on housing, sanitation, healthcare, and employment could trigger civil unrest. Meanwhile, industrial productivity would be crippled by rolling blackouts, as hydropower generation dwindles.
Amid this doomsday scenario, Pakistan’s capacity for mitigation remains weak. The Indus River System Authority, plagued by inefficiency and corruption, has failed to modernise flood defences or irrigation infrastructure. A telling example is the 2022 flood disaster, which displaced millions and destroyed large swathes of farmland. Worse still, if India, lacking sufficient reservoir capacity, were forced to release excess water during the monsoon—as has happened in the past—Pakistan could face catastrophic floods. The 2010 floods, which killed over 2,000 people, offer a grim precedent. Accusations that India mismanages these water releases—though denied by New Delhi—have long soured diplomatic ties.
On India’s side, the ability to weaponise water is far more limited than it may appear. Unlike the eastern rivers, India lacks major storage infrastructure on the western rivers. While run-of-the-river hydroelectric projects such as Kishanganga and Ratle are permissible under the IWT, they offer minimal capacity for water control. Large dams such as Bhakra and Pong lie on the eastern rivers and cannot influence Pakistan’s water supply. Any attempt to build new infrastructure on the western rivers would take years and may provoke international legal battles, especially as the World Bank remains a guarantor of the treaty.
India’s mounting frustration is shaped by more than just security. A rapidly growing population and rising energy demand are putting pressure on water resources. Moreover, the Narendra Modi government is increasingly assertive in tying water diplomacy to national security. After the Pulwama terror attack in 2019, India took unprecedented steps to accelerate projects on the western rivers, leading to Pakistan’s repeated appeals for arbitration. However, India has hardened its position, suspending the Permanent Indus Commission meetings since 2022 and refusing to engage with the Permanent Court of Arbitration.
Pakistan, on the other hand, insists on third-party mediation, fearing it cannot hold its own in bilateral talks. The World Bank has called for peaceful resolution, but its influence has waned amid India’s rejection of external involvement. Even if both nations were to agree to renegotiate the treaty, the existing climate of mistrust makes fruitful engagement unlikely.
If India were to follow through with water diversion, the engineering and geopolitical implications would be vast. Diverting a river is no minor act; it requires years of planning, enormous financial outlays, and the potential for environmental catastrophe. Moreover, such a move could erode India’s credibility as a responsible global actor, particularly as it aspires for a permanent seat on the UN Security Council and increasingly seeks leadership roles in multilateral forums like the G20. Other South Asian nations—Bangladesh, Nepal, and even China—may become wary of India’s water ambitions. China, which controls parts of the Indus and Sutlej headwaters, could retaliate by accelerating dam projects in Tibet, threatening India’s own water supply.
There is also the risk that India’s shift in water policy might inadvertently strengthen Pakistan’s anti-India narratives and embolden militant factions. If Pakistan descends into economic chaos, it may become an even more fertile ground for radicalism. Already, the political climate in Pakistan is fragile, with military dominance under scrutiny and populist leaders like Imran Khan sidelined. A full-scale water crisis could push the nation into uncontrollable instability, with implications that stretch far beyond the subcontinent.
Adding to the urgency is the threat of climate change. Himalayan glaciers, the source of the Indus system, are retreating rapidly. While short-term increases in water flow may offer temporary relief, the long-term outlook is dire. By 2030, Pakistan could face a 50% water shortfall, according to the United Nations. The IWT, conceived in an era when climate unpredictability was not a pressing concern, offers no framework for cooperation on glacier melt, extreme floods, or droughts. A modernised version of the treaty, incorporating climate resilience, joint monitoring, and data sharing, is urgently needed—but unlikely in the current atmosphere of antagonism.
Ultimately, while India’s grievances are real, using water as a geopolitical lever poses immense humanitarian and diplomatic risks. The collapse of the Indus Waters Treaty would not only endanger 240 million Pakistanis but also destabilise an already volatile region. History has shown that disregarding shared natural resources as tools of coercion can backfire catastrophically.
The world must step in—be it the United Nations, the World Bank, or influential powers like the United States—to mediate before this slow-moving disaster turns into a humanitarian crisis. The Indus Waters Treaty was once a symbol of what diplomacy could achieve even between bitter foes. Let it not become the next casualty of a regional power play.