Why suspending the Indus Waters Treaty is a bad idea

In a dramatic escalation following the Pahalgam terror attack, in which 26 civilians were killed, the Indian government has decided to suspend the 1960 Indus Waters Treaty (IWT). The move has, for good reason, sparked alarm across the region and beyond. For a treaty that has weathered wars and diplomatic breakdowns for over six decades, its suspension signifies not only a breakdown of trust but also a potentially risky shift in India’s regional posture.

This is not the first time the IWT has come under political fire. Back in 2016, after the Uri attack, demands surged in India to weaponise water as retribution. “Blood and water cannot flow together,” Prime Minister Narendra Modi declaimed in public meetings at the time, but he ultimately opted for restraint. In 2025, that restraint has given way to action — India has formally notified Pakistan that the IWT will be held in abeyance until Islamabad ceases its support for cross-border terrorism.

Predictably, Pakistan has reacted sharply. Days after New Delhi’s announcement, Islamabad suspended the Simla Agreement — an accord that had governed bilateral relations since 1972. Any Indian attempt to divert water meant for Pakistan under the IWT would be treated as an ‘Act of War’, Pakistan declared, even hinting that the response may not exclude the use of nuclear weapons. It also announced the suspension of trade, all bilateral accords including airspace agreements, and cancelled all SAARC Visa Exemption Scheme visas issued to Indian nationals except Sikh pilgrims.

While it may have resonated with some emotionally and could possibly yield political dividend at home, the BJP government’s decision raises important questions from strategic, legal and humanitarian perspectives. It is a response that feeds into media sensationalism and public outrage, but lacks strategic foresight. The move also squanders India’s moral high ground in international forums, where it has long been seen as a status quo power in the face of Pakistani provocations.

Crucially, the suspension of the IWT is legally ambiguous and diplomatically perilous. The Treaty does not include an explicit abrogation clause, and India’s unilateral suspension, without following due process, undermines international law and violates the core principle of ‘pacta sunt servanda’ (agreements must be kept). Even if India invokes Article 62 of the Vienna Convention, claiming a fundamental change in circumstances, the bar for justifying suspension is exceptionally high. Moreover, the Treaty is co-signed by the World Bank, giving it unique international stature. The Indian government’s move not only invites Pakistan to activate the dispute resolution mechanisms, including potential arbitration through the Permanent Court of Arbitration, but also internationalises what New Delhi has long preferred to treat as a strictly bilateral issue.

The Indus Waters Treaty was never perfect. It effectively partitioned the Indus basin rather than encouraging cooperative sharing. But despite its flaws, it has been one of the few enduring bilateral accords between two nuclear-armed neighbours. Its survival through the wars of 1965, 1971, and the Kargil conflict underscored its strength as a diplomatic instrument. The World Bank has continually showcased it as a rare success in international water diplomacy.

Yet, the Treaty has not kept pace with climate change, growing populations or evolving hydropower needs. A modernised framework that includes Afghanistan and China — the other riparian states of the Indus system — is overdue. But revising the Treaty demands cooperation, not coercion.

Some in India are calling for the construction of storage facilities on the western rivers — Indus, Jhelum and Chenab — to choke Pakistan’s supply. Easier said than done: India lacks the necessary storage infrastructure on these rivers. And if it tries to build such facilities, it will face two fundamental challenges. First, the steep terrain of the Himalayas makes it nearly impossible to divert water from these rivers to the Indian mainland. The Kashmir Valley, through which these rivers flow, already has a surplus of natural water for agriculture, requiring lift irrigation — water that must be raised using pumps. So even if India builds dams, what would it do with the excess water?

Second, large-scale infrastructure projects in Kashmir are easy targets for militants. Escalating tensions with Pakistan only heighten these risks. Rather than securing a strategic edge, India could be creating new vulnerabilities.

Moreover, even in suspension, India has only two limited levers with which to exert pressure on Pakistan. It can refuse to share flood and runoff data — critical for downstream planning in monsoon season — and it can alter reservoir operations by flushing storage areas and refilling them during Pakistan’s dry season rather than waiting until August. These actions could cause some seasonal disruptions to Pakistani agriculture, particularly in Punjab, but the effects are likely to be marginal and temporary. As coercive tools, they lack both scale and sustainability.

Pakistan’s sharp escalation — including its suspension of the Simla Agreement and sweeping diplomatic downgrades — also serves a domestic purpose. Lacking political legitimacy, the current army-backed government in Islamabad benefits from stoking nationalism and externalising internal crises. Tensions with India offer a rallying point and divert the attention of its citizens from governance failures and a downward spiral in the economy.

More dangerously, by politicising trans-border water sharing, the BJP government opens a Pandora’s box. China, the upper riparian of the Yarlung Tsangpo (Brahmaputra), could cite the same rationale in any future confrontation with India, potentially cutting or redirecting water flows to northeast India. This decision thus legitimises the very kind of water weaponisation India has long opposed.

The environmental and humanitarian fallout of such disruption cannot be overstated. Reduced water flows may damage the fragile Indus Delta, already reeling from salinity intrusion and ecological degradation. Sudden reservoir operations could also cause floods, displacing thousands and destroying farmlands. Pakistan’s food security — heavily dependent on Indus irrigation — would be at risk, exacerbating internal unrest and humanitarian suffering.

Instead of leveraging water as a punitive instrument, India should lead efforts toward integrated basin management. The current treaty framework lacks flexibility and incentive for cooperation. The World Bank-sponsored Abu Dhabi Dialogue, which I contributed to in 2006, envisioned a broader basin-wide cooperative framework involving India, Pakistan, Afghanistan and China. Such multilateral engagement remains the only viable long-term solution to climate insecurity and regional instability.

India’s BJP government must also consider the ripple effects on its broader neighbourhood. Bangladesh, Nepal and Bhutan, with whom India shares important river systems, may interpret this as a sign of India’s willingness to act unilaterally. Future regional negotiations — particularly with Nepal over the Koshi and Gandak rivers and Bangladesh over the Ganga and Teesta — will now be burdened with trust deficit.

The suspension of the Indus Waters Treaty is a hasty reaction that may yield some short-term political gain for the BJP but will result in long-term strategic loss for India. It destabilises a fragile peace mechanism, endangers critical infrastructure, invites international censure, and opens dangerous geopolitical doors with China. It also risks playing into the hands of an insecure and unpopular regime across the border.

Views are personal.

ASHOK SWAIN is a professor of peace and conflict research and UNESCO chair on International Water Cooperation at Uppsala University, Sweden.

More of his writing may be read .