Guest Column| Indus Water Treaty sustains fragile hope of peace in S Asia

In a region long defined by mistrust, militarised borders, and unresolved historical grievances, the Indus Water Treaty (IWT) has stood as a rare example of sustained cooperation between India and Pakistan. Brokered by the World Bank and signed in 1960 by Indian Prime Minister Jawaharlal Nehru and Pakistan’s President Ayub Khan, this treaty marked a bold step forward — a diplomatic feat that divided the waters of the mighty Indus river system with a sense of pragmatic optimism. More than 60 years later, the treaty remains intact, having weathered multiple wars, diplomatic breakdowns, and geopolitical shocks. But today, it stands at its most critical juncture.

The recent terrorist attack in Pahalgam, Kashmir, which claimed the lives of innocent Indian civilians, has reignited tensions between the two countries. India has issued a notice to Pakistan suspending the treaty, a move that reflects the growing strain between the two nuclear-armed neighbours. New Delhi argues that Pakistan, by harbouring and supporting cross-border terrorism, has undermined the very spirit of the agreement. The IWT, once envisioned as a tool for peace, now risks becoming collateral damage in a larger strategic conflict.

At the treaty’s heart lies the division of one of the world’s largest and most vital river systems. The Indus basin comprises six rivers: The Indus, Jhelum, and Chenab in the west, and the Ravi, Beas, and Sutlej in the east. The treaty granted Pakistan exclusive rights to the western rivers, which collectively provide about 135 million acre-feet (MAF) of water annually. India, meanwhile, received control of the eastern rivers, which total about 33 MAF. India may use the western rivers for limited purposes, such as non-consumptive uses, including hydroelectricity and navigation, but it must ensure that their natural flow remains largely undisturbed.

However, in practice, the distribution and usage have been far from optimal. India, despite its entitlement to 33 MAF, uses only around 30 MAF.

Crisis of mismanagement

During the monsoon flush, an estimated 2-3 MAF of water from the eastern rivers flows unused into Pakistan not due to generosity, but due to India’s insufficient storage and irrigation infrastructure in Punjab, Himachal Pradesh, and Jammu and Kashmir. This under-utilisation contrasts sharply with Pakistan’s overwhelming dependence on the western rivers, which irrigate over 80% of its agricultural land. With 97% of its freshwater sourced from the Indus system, Pakistan is acutely vulnerable to any reduction or disruption in flow.

Yet, Pakistan’s water crisis is not simply one of scarcity, it is one of mismanagement. It is estimated that over 36 MAF of water is lost every year to leakage, seepage, and evaporation, owing to poorly maintained canals and outdated irrigation methods. Instead of reforming its internal water governance, Pakistan has frequently sought to block Indian hydel projects through legal and diplomatic means. Key Indian initiatives like the Kishanganga and Ratle dams — entirely within the framework of the treaty’s allowances — have been delayed by prolonged litigation. Though India has prevailed in international arbitration, these episodes have hampered progress and deepened mistrust.

Urgency of climate change

For India, the treaty increasingly appears less like a symbol of cooperation and more like a strategic liability. In January 2023, New Delhi invoked Article XII(3) of the treaty, signaling its intent to renegotiate terms that no longer reflect contemporary realities. This provision allows the treaty to be modified by mutual consent, and India’s move represents a decisive shift, acknowledging that the treaty’s original architecture, while visionary in 1960, is now outdated in the face of today’s geopolitical, environmental, and developmental challenges.

Climate change only adds urgency to this reckoning. When the treaty was drafted, the long-term implications of glacier melt, monsoon variability, and global warming were not yet understood. Today, the Himalayan glaciers feeding the Indus and its tributaries are retreating rapidly. Erratic rainfall, prolonged droughts, and flash floods are becoming frequent, placing additional stress on already fragile water systems. Yet, the treaty remains silent on climate adaptation, shared data systems, or coordinated disaster response. It is a Cold War-era pact grappling with 21st-century threats.

Reforming the treaty

For India, reforming the treaty presents a chance to reclaim water security in its northern states and assert its legitimate rights as an upper riparian state. For Pakistan, any tampering with water flow is perceived as a red line, a threat to its economic foundation and national identity. This asymmetry makes the situation precarious. A hasty or unilateral shift could escalate tensions dramatically. Yet continuing the status quo could mean missing the opportunity to future-proof one of the region’s most essential agreements.

What is needed now is not brinkmanship, but vision. A reformed treaty, rooted in mutual benefit rather than strategic posturing, could establish mechanisms for real-time data exchange, joint infrastructure investments, and climate-resilient planning. A more transparent dispute resolution system could reduce suspicion and streamline cooperation. But any such transformation requires political courage and a fundamental shift in how both countries perceive each other — not as adversaries locked in zero-sum games, but as co-stewards of a shared ecosystem.

Pakistan, in particular, must create the conditions for such reform by moving away from the policy of hostility and violence against India.

Sustainable peace cannot flow from a river of blood. Instead, it must be built on trust, responsible state behaviour, and a shared commitment to regional prosperity. India, too, must balance strategic necessity with moral leadership, asserting its rights without undermining its legacy as a responsible global actor.

Ultimately, the treaty is more than a legal instrument. It is a symbol of hope, of resilience, and of the possibility that even in the most bitter of rivalries, cooperation can prevail. Its future now rests in the hands of leaders willing to look beyond immediate gains and see the bigger picture. The rivers of the Indus do not just sustain crops, they sustain the fragile hope of peace in South Asia. Whether they continue to do so depends not on history, but on the choices made today. sureshkumarnangia@gmail.com

The writer is a retired Punjab IAS officer. Views expressed are personal.