In June 2025, the already-fraught relationship between India and Pakistan took a dangerous turn. Following the tragic Pahalgam terror attack, which claimed the lives of many innocent people, the Indian government launched Operation Sindoor, a military operation targeting alleged militant hideouts in Pakistan. At a public event shortly after, the Home Minister declared that India would permanently suspend the Indus Waters Treaty and begin diverting waters flowing to Pakistan into Rajasthan. According to him, Pakistan had no right to object.

The statement, amplified across sections of media, echoed an old threat: that India could choke Pakistan’s lifeline by stopping or diverting the flow of the Indus, Chenab, and Jhelum rivers. These rivers—governed under the 1960 Indus Waters Treaty (IWT)—are critical to Pakistan’s agriculture, food security, and economy. In retaliation, Pakistan has warned that such a move would be a “grave provocation,” hinting at escalation and even invoking international law to mount a diplomatic and legal challenge. The threat of dismantling the treaty has thus become a dangerous flashpoint—not only between two nuclear-armed neighbours but also for the entire South Asian region.

The Indus Waters Treaty, brokered by the World Bank and signed in 1960, has been hailed as one of the most resilient water-sharing agreements in modern history. Even during the wars of 1965 and 1971, and amid the Kargil conflict, the treaty held firm. It allocates the waters of the eastern rivers (Ravi, Sutlej, and Beas) to India and the western rivers (Indus, Jhelum, and Chenab) to Pakistan, with specific conditions on usage and infrastructure development. A Permanent Indus Commission was set up to manage the implementation, monitor usage, and resolve disputes.

To threaten this treaty—however politically expedient it may seem in the heat of a terror attack—is to ignore decades of hard-won stability. It is also a dangerous violation of international norms governing transboundary rivers. According to the UN Convention on the Law of Non-Navigational Uses of International Watercourses, upstream countries like India are obligated to ensure equitable and reasonable use, must not cause significant harm to downstream countries, and must notify them of any planned projects or changes. These are not optional principles. They are central to preserving peace and ecological stability in a world increasingly wracked by water stress.

By publicly declaring plans to divert water to “punish” Pakistan, the Indian government risks undermining not only the treaty but also India’s standing as a responsible regional power. It also sets a perilous precedent—what if other upstream countries, like China on the Brahmaputra, choose to adopt the same approach? In an era when climate change is reducing water availability and increasing regional competition for resources, the need for transboundary cooperation between governments and peoples has never been greater.

Equally concerning is the role of the media and political discourse. In the days following the government’s announcement, several news portals ran headlines claiming that India’s one move would “completely destroy” Pakistan by choking its water supply. Social media was flooded with celebratory posts treating water war as a legitimate tool of statecraft. This jingoism overlooks the deep ethical and humanitarian questions involved. Millions of people—most of them civilians, farmers, and children—rely on these rivers every day. Reducing water sharing to a weaponised, tit-for-tat game of nationalism is not only irresponsible; it is immoral.

The real perpetrators of the Pahalgam massacre should be found and severely punished. But water cannot become collateral damage in the battle against terrorism. India has legitimate rights over the eastern rivers and can continue to develop hydropower and irrigation projects within the treaty framework. It can—and has—used legal instruments to address specific disputes, as in the Baglihar and Kishanganga cases. But unilateral withdrawal or large-scale diversion of water is not just technically complex and diplomatically risky—it is legally dubious and morally indefensible.

In the long run, water-sharing treaties like the IWT are not merely about engineering flows or managing canals. They are about managing coexistence. They remind us that rivers do not respect political borders, and that countries with shared geographies must also share responsibilities. As the subcontinent stares at a future shaped by rising temperatures, irregular monsoons, and depleting aquifers, the last thing we need is to tear up a treaty that has stood the test of time.

The Indian government should step back from this brinkmanship. It must reaffirm its commitment to the Indus Waters Treaty, not just as a legal obligation but as a sign of regional maturity. Media houses and social platforms must stop fanning the flames of nationalism when the stakes are this high. Pakistan, for its part, must be equally responsibe and mature in dealing with this crisis. Any justice sought must be proportionate, lawful, and not at the cost of shared resources.

Jingoism cannot be a response to the present crisis. Water is too precious to be wielded like a sword. It must remain a bridge between nations, not a wall between peoples.

The Indian government must withdraw its declaration of the permanent suspension of the Indus Waters Treaty and recommit to the principles of shared survival and peaceful coexistence.

Source of image: https://theleaflet.in/international-law-world-affairs/should-india-revisit-the-indus-treaty

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