PAKISTAN’S water crisis is no longer a looming threat; it is already here. Glaciers are melting, rivers are swinging from flood to drought within months, and major cities are forced to ration their supplies. Yet the most dangerous element is not nature, but denial. Pakistan does not just face scarcity — it suffers from blindness to the crisis.

For generations, we have treated the Indus as an eternal blessing. Fed by over 7,000 glaciers — the largest reserves outside the polar regions — it has continued to sustain farms, industries and cities alike.

But these glaciers are retreating at nearly one per cent a year. The floods that inundate Punjab and Sindh each monsoon are not signs of abundance, but symptoms of distress. As such, what looks like plenty today is actually the slow liquidation of tomorrow’s reserves.

The crisis, in essence, is as political as it is an environmental one. Water remains invisible in governance. There is no dedicated ministry and no serious agenda of reforms. Provinces bicker endlessly over allocations while federal policymakers look away.

Beyond our borders, dependence on the Indus leaves us exposed to upstream moves made in India, and the unresolved tensions over the Indus Waters Treaty could escalate at any moment. At every level — provincial, national and regional — water is a serious issue that remains largely ignored.

Meanwhile, our management practices remain stuck in the past. Agriculture consumes around 90pc of available water because it continues to rely on wasteful flood irrigation. Cities leak away precious supplies.

On the other hand, illegal tube-wells drain aquifers without due oversight. The average Pakistani consumes nearly 140 litres a day, much of it squandered. We cling to the myth that water is limitless even as taps begin to run dry.

This denial is the real disaster. Each flood leaves deeper scars in the soil, each drought lasts longer, and yet our planning assumes water will always return. The crisis is not a lack of warnings or reports — it is our refusal to confront reality.

International dimension makes the stakes even higher. Just as energy dependence ties us into costly capacity payments, water dependence exposes us to geopolitical risks. India holds the upstream gates, while climate change threatens the glaciers. In both cases, Pakistan is downstream — literally and strategically. A country that cannot secure its water cannot secure its food, its energy, or its sovereignty.

The way forward requires honesty. Declaring a national water emergency would be the first step. Reforming irri-gation system to save even a fraction of what is wasted would achieve more than another mega-dam. Metering urban supply, charging fair tariffs, and investing in rainwater harvesting would do far more to protect the future than political slogans. Above all, water must move to the centre of national policy, not remain a neglected afterthought.

Pakistan is a paradox: among the most water-rich by glacial reserves, yet among the most water-insecure by governance. Nature has been generous, but politics has been careless. If we do not face reality, our future will not be measured in megawatts or gross domestic product (GDP) figures, but in terms of dry reservoirs and barren fields. The Indus may still flow tomorrow. But if we continue to tread this path, it will not flow for us.

Muhammad Aayan Tariq
Lahore

Published in Dawn, December 3rd, 2025