Indus Waters Treaty needs to be renewed

THE Indus Waters Treaty (IWT), once hailed as a shining example of diplomacy, now finds itself suspended in uncertainty. Born out of Cold War geopolitics and midwifed by US ambition, the treaty that for decades kept a fragile peace over South Asia’s most vital natural resource is now being questioned at its very core. A treaty is only as strong as the commitment of both parties — it takes two to forge it, and two to keep it alive. India’s decision to place the treaty ‘in abeyance’ is no routine bureaucratic move. It is a calculated act of strategic signalling, asserting that legacy agreements shaped by outdated global power structures will not be upheld at the expense of India’s core interests.

To understand the gravity of this moment, we must look back. Signed in 1960 after eight years of hard negotiations, the IWT divided the six rivers of the Indus basin between India and Pakistan: the three eastern rivers (Ravi, Beas and Sutlej) to India and the three western rivers (Indus, Jhelum and Chenab) to Pakistan. The treaty owes much of its existence to US anxieties about communism’s spread in Asia and the strategic significance of newly independent nations.

It was David Lilienthal, former chairman of the Tennessee Valley Authority, whose observations during a 1951 visit to the subcontinent sowed the first seeds of the IWT. His subsequent writings framed the Kashmir conflict through the lens of water insecurity and prompted the World Bank, under its president Eugene Black, to step in as a mediator.

Lilienthal’s proposal, amplified through Collier’s magazine, argued that a peaceful resolution of the Indus dispute could help prevent another Korea-like war. His depiction of Nehru as “democracy’s last hope" struck a chord with US policymakers still reeling from China’s turn to communism. His interaction with Liaquat Ali Khan, the then Prime Minister of Pakistan, was far from pleasant. Liaquat had angrily spoken: “Unless the Kashmir issue is settled, it is unreal to try to settle the issues about water or about evacuees."

The World Bank positioned itself as a neutral engineer, offering technical solutions to a political dilemma of water-sharing. Even so, the negotiations were fraught with national pride, colonial legacies and Cold War-manoeuvring. That the treaty was signed at all was nothing short of remarkable.

The division of the Indus basin was less an act of generosity than one of pragmatism and rational compromise. While the treaty allotted the three western rivers to Pakistan, India was entitled to draw up to 3.6 million acre-feet (MAF) from those waters. Yet, India built no major storage dam on these rivers — a remarkable display of restraint, or neglect, depending on perspective.

This posture, however, has seen a shift since 2016, as the Modi government has sought to more assertively pursue infrastructure projects that align with India’s entitlements under the treaty framework, signalling a recalibrated approach to the strategic and developmental utility of the Indus basin within the broader resource security agenda.

The political ecosystem that gave rise to the treaty has dramatically shifted. India has emerged as the world’s fastest emerging economy with global aspirations, no longer content with arrangements perceived as limiting its ambitions. Pakistan, in contrast, remains economically fragile, internally weakened and its reliance on the waters of the Indus basin more acute than ever.

The treaty, once viewed as a stabilising force, is now a site of contention — partly due to disputes over Indian hydropower projects like Kishanganga and Ratle, and partly due to India’s frustration over Pakistan’s perceived intransigence and support for cross-border militancy.

By placing the treaty in abeyance — driven by frustration over Pakistan’s intransigence and continued backing of cross-border militancy —India is recalibrating the rules of engagement. It is making clear that the status quo, shaped by bygone-era compulsions, is no longer untouchable. From Delhi’s perspective, the IWT has become a one-sided arrangement: limiting India’s rightful use of its share while giving Pakistan a platform to obstruct development through endless legal challenges.

For Islamabad, the implications are more alarming. Water security is an immediate national concern. Pakistan’s agriculture, economy and population centres rely heavily on the western rivers allocated to it by the IWT. With climate change intensifying water scarcity across the region, any disruption to these flows could have cascading effects — economic stagnation, food insecurity and internal displacement, all of which would exacerbate existing political instability.

The IWT has long been upheld as a beacon of functional diplomacy — a treaty that survived four wars, countless skirmishes and deep-rooted enmity. If even this can be put in abeyance, the message to the international community is sobering: when core interests are perceived to be threatened, no agreement is beyond revision.

There is also a broader geopolitical undercurrent. As global water tensions become more frequent — from the Nile basin to the Tigris-Euphrates system and the Mekong basin — the unravelling of the IWT may prompt other riparian states to re-examine, and potentially challenge, longstanding water-sharing pacts. Moreover, China’s growing influence over Himalayan headwaters and its ambiguous stance on transboundary water management add another layer of complexity to the region’s hydropolitics.

The letter dated April 24, 2025 from the secretary, Jal Shakti, to Pakistan’s water resources secretary states: “The resulting security uncertainties have directly impeded India’s full utilization of its right under the Treaty. Furthermore, apart from other breaches committed by it, Pakistan has refused to respond to India’s request to enter into negotiations as envisaged under the Treaty and is thus in breach of the Treaty.”

The suspension of the IWT does not necessarily herald its demise. Instead, it could serve as a critical inflection point —an opportunity to modernise the treaty’s framework, embed climate resilience and reassert mutual responsibilities in a rapidly changing regional geomorphology. The World Bank’s role, pivotal though it was in 1960, was never meant to be permanent.

The treaty must step out of 1960’s shadow and face a shared future shaped by climate stress, rising populations and shrinking resources. If the IWT is to endure, it must be renewed. The Indus basin needs a new blueprint rooted in a vision to treat water as a lifeline. That responsibility lies not only with the upper riparian, like India, but equally with the lower riparian. Pakistan must not forget that.

Uttam Kumar Sinha is Senior Fellow, Manohar Parrikar Institute for Defence Studies & Analyses.

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