Water as strategic weapon! Wait, there's Farakka too!

Raju Korti
The recent terror attack in Pahalgam, Jammu and Kashmir, which claimed the lives of 26 innocent Indian tourists, has once again pushed India to re-evaluate its strategic and diplomatic calculus vis-à-vis Pakistan. But this time, the Indian government has gone beyond the usual diplomatic demarches or symbolic downgrades. It has struck at the heart of Pakistan’s most vital vulnerability – water -- by suspending the Indus Waters Treaty (IWT), a move as momentous as it is deliberate.

I have followed the intricacies of this treaty and its larger geopolitical implications for years, and I can say with certainty that few other steps could rattle Islamabad more. The IWT, signed in 1960 and brokered by the World Bank, is often held up as one of the world’s most enduring water-sharing arrangements. It governs the distribution of six rivers in the Indus Basin: the Ravi, Beas, and Sutlej (Eastern rivers), and the Indus, Jhelum, and Chenab (Western rivers).The division was clear -- India retained control of the Eastern rivers and Pakistan got rights over the Western ones. India received just 20% of the total water from the system -- about 33 million acre-feet (MAF) -- while Pakistan got 80%, a staggering 135 MAF annually. India was allowed limited use of the Western rivers strictly for non-consumptive purposes like hydropower, but it could not block or significantly alter flows.

For over six decades, this asymmetric arrangement held, even through wars and cross-border tensions. But the terror strike at Pahalgam has triggered a tectonic shift. The Indus system is not just important to Pakistan -- it is existential. Nearly 80% of its cultivated land -- some 16 million hectares --is watered by the Indus and its tributaries. An astounding 93% of that water is used for agriculture, powering the crops that form the backbone of Pakistan’s economy -- wheat, rice, sugarcane, and cotton.

Urban centers such as Lahore, Karachi, and Multan draw their drinking water directly from the basin. Pakistan’s major hydropower plants like Tarbela and Mangla depend on the uninterrupted flows of these rivers. The system supports over 237 million people, with 61% of the Indus Basin population residing in Pakistan. To tamper with this water flow is to tamper with Pakistan’s very ability to feed, hydrate, and power itself.

India, as the upper riparian (the waters flow downstream), has always had options, but the treaty tied its hands on critical issues such as dam design, storage, flood data sharing, and reservoir operations. Pakistan has historically objected to almost every Indian hydropower project -- Salal, Baglihar, Kishanganga, Ratle, and more -- forcing lengthy legal and diplomatic battles. But with the IWT now in abeyance, those objections lose their binding force.

India no longer needs to consult or accommodate Pakistan’s concerns over new or existing infrastructure. Projects stalled or slowed by treaty restrictions can now proceed at India’s discretion. Furthermore, India is now under no obligation to limit when and how it flushes or fills its reservoirs. Take Kishanganga, for instance. Desilting and reservoir flushing, essential for dam efficiency, were previously hamstrung by treaty rules. Now, India can carry out these exercises even when they are most inconvenient for Pakistan -- say, during sowing seasons when water scarcity could hit farmers hardest.

The ability to unilaterally time reservoir operations grants India a potent lever, especially given that much of Pakistan’s Punjab province depends on predictable water release patterns from the Jhelum and Chenab. India can also halt the provision of flood data to Pakistan -- critical during monsoon surges -- potentially exposing Pakistan to unpredictable flood risks. This decision also means India can now explore storing water from the Western rivers, a right it has never exercised meaningfully due to treaty constraints.

Storage capacity can be built for hydropower, flood control, and even agriculture, effectively giving India the ability to moderate or delay flows downstream. Legally, while the treaty lacks a clear exit clause, international law does allow room for suspension under Article 62 of the Vienna Convention on the Law of Treaties, especially when a fundamental change of circumstances occurs -- as with persistent terrorism emanating from Pakistan. This is, in every sense, a paradigm shift in India’s approach. It is a recalibration from caution to assertiveness.

While Pakistan has yet to respond formally, the implications are grave. In a country already teetering on the brink of water scarcity -- with per capita availability declining every year -- the disruption of flows from India could be catastrophic. Agriculture could collapse in key belts, urban water shortages could ignite civil unrest, hydropower shortfalls could cripple industry, and large-scale rural migration could begin. This is water turning into a weapon -- not by flooding or drought, but by deliberate statecraft.

One may argue that this is not without precedent. Consider India’s own strategic management of the Farakka Barrage. Under the 1996 Ganges Water Treaty, India can withdraw up to 40,000 cusecs of water during the lean season. When the flow is between 70,000 and 75,000 cusecs, Bangladesh gets 35,000 and India the rest. Only below 70,000 is the water equally shared.

Here, India enjoys a clear upstream advantage without antagonism -- because Dhaka, unlike Islamabad, has not chosen terror over talks. The contrast is telling. The lesson is this: hydrology cannot be separated from geopolitics. When diplomacy fails and terror persists, water -- a source of life -- can become the ultimate bargaining chip. Suspending the Indus Waters Treaty is not merely about sending a message. It is about resetting the rules. And this time, India holds the tap.

Water is life. And when it becomes a strategic tool, it can be as powerful as any weapon. By suspending the Indus Waters Treaty, India has not only responded with moral clarity but with maximum strategic effect. This move won’t destroy Pakistan overnight. But it could choke its rivers, collapse its crops, dim its cities, and break the illusion that hostility can go unchecked. If diplomacy fails, hydrology will prevail. This could well be a watershed moment—literally and figuratively.