Like a thin thread holding India and Pakistan, the Indus River is a lifeblood running through the heart of South Asia. Signed in 1960, the Indus Waters Treaty (IWT) has been a rare example of collaboration among nuclear-armed neighbours navigating crisis and conflict. But India suspended the treaty on April 23, 2025, following a terror attack in Pahalgam that claimed 26 tourists, therefore compromising this diplomatic pillar. Relying on these resources are 1.4 billion Indians and 240 million Pakistanis—300 million in the Indus Basin alone, who have great stakes.
The IWT began with the 1947 Partition, when the six rivers of the Indus system—Ravi, Beas, Sutlej (eastern), and Indus, Jhelum, Chenab (western)—were divided into fresh borders. Upstream India locked the waters of the eastern rivers (41 billion cubic meters yearly); downstream Pakistan acquired the western rivers (99 billion cubic meters, 80% of the total flow). Signed by Jawaharlal Nehru and Ayub Khan, the treaty, brokered by the World Bank, provided clear guidelines: India could use western rivers for non-consumptive uses like hydropower but could not impede flows. Supported by impartial specialists or arbitration, a Permanent Indus Commission (PIC) was set up to settle conflicts. India showed early will by paying £62 million for Pakistan’s canal systems even during the 1965 conflict. It stood strong for 65 years, a worldwide model that weathered the 1965, 1971, and 1999 wars.
Pakistan, where the Indus drives a third of hydropower and 80% of agriculture, worries about India’s upstream control. Objections were raised about India’s run-of-river projects, Baglihar (2008), Kishanganga (2018), and Ratle (under development). Pakistan claimed these disturbed flows; India kept compliance. The World Bank designated a neutral expert and an arbitration court in 2022, but development came to a standstill. Citing population growth (1.4 billion vs. 430 million in 1960), climate change, and cross-border terrorism, India proposed treaty changes in 2023. Pakistan objected; by 2024, India stopped PIC sessions. Then followed Pahalgam, a militant strike connected by India to Pakistan’s Lashkar-e-Taiba by the Resistance Front (TRF). India responded quickly: suspended the IWT, restricted borders, sent diplomats out, and revoked visas.
This suspension, announced by Water Resources Secretary Debashree Mukherjee, marks a historic break. India ceased sharing flood data—crucial for Pakistan’s monsoon planning—and plans to release reservoir waters in the dry season (October-February), threatening Pakistan’s Kharif crops like cotton and rice. In the long term, India will see new dams like Pakal Dul (1,000 MW) and Sawalkot (1,856 MW) on Chenab tributaries. Pakistan’s Prime Minister Shehbaz Sharif called it an “act of war,” halting trade, airspace, and the 1972 Simla Agreement. X posts capture the divide: one Indian wrote, “80% of Pakistan’s farmland at risk”; a Pakistani countered, “This crosses our red line.” Experts like Himanshu Thakkar note India lacks storage to halt flows immediately—Kishanganga’s 18.35 million cubic meters is modest, but major diversions could emerge in 5-10 years.
Why does this hurt? Pakistan’s Punjab, producing 85% of its food, and Sindh depend on the Indus. Agriculture drives 25% of GDP, supporting 70% of rural livelihoods. Groundwater depletion—48% of Indus Basin withdrawals—heightens the crisis. A Sindh farmer told Reuters, “No water, and this becomes the Thar desert.” Food prices could soar, small farmers collapse, and cities like Karachi, reliant on tankers, face drought. India isn’t immune. Its Indus Basin states—Punjab, Haryana, Jammu—need eastern rivers for irrigation. New dams face rugged terrain, local protests, and high costs; China, controlling Indus headwaters, could retaliate on rivers like the Brahmaputra. Climate change adds urgency—Himalayan glaciers, the Indus’s source, are shrinking, imperilling both nations.
The suspension isn’t just about water—it reflects Indo-Pak relations. India blames Pakistan for terrorism, citing Pahalgam’s “cross-border ties.” Pakistan denies it, pinning unrest on India’s 2019 Kashmir autonomy repeal. Water’s a weapon: Modi once said, “Blood and water can’t flow together”; Pakistan’s farmers call the suspension “starvation.” The treaty’s dispute system—PIC, neutral experts, arbitration—worked for Baglihar but faltered on Kishanganga. Now, with talks frozen, Pakistan plans legal action via the World Bank or the International Court of Justice, alleging India violates the 1969 Vienna Convention. The treaty lacks a unilateral exit clause, giving India’s upstream position an edge, though not instant control.
What’s eroded the IWT’s resilience? Trust—or its absence. India views Pakistan’s terror links as a treaty violation; Pakistan sees India’s dams as theft. Domestic pressures fuel the fire: India’s BJP pushes a hardline stance; Pakistan’s leaders can’t yield amid economic woes. Climate change, unaddressed in 1960, burdens both monsoon floods (like Pakistan’s 2023 losses) and droughts hit hard. The treaty governs surface water, not groundwater, leaving 48% of withdrawals unregulated. Population growth—300 million in the basin—outstrips the treaty’s ageing framework. X posts reflect the rift: one Indian wrote, “Terror has a price”; a Pakistani replied, “Water is our life.”
Can this be mended? First, restart dialogue—revive the PIC, even virtually, to share flood data and ease fears. Second, modernise the treaty—add groundwater rules, climate provisions, and faster dispute resolution. The World Bank, a signatory, could mediate, as in 1960. Third, shield water from politics—the treaty survived wars by staying technical; rekindle that spirit. Fourth, foster regional stakes—engage China, Afghanistan, and the UN to protect the Indus Basin’s 300 million lives. Small steps matter: Pakistan’s Mangla Dam and India’s Bhakra, both treaty-funded, show cooperation’s power. India could optimise its 20% western river share, as with the Ujh Project (925 million cubic meters storage), without escalation.