For more than sixty years, the Indus River has been a symbol of both promise and precariousness for India and Pakistan—two nations whose histories are as entwined as the waters that flow between them. Yet, as 2025 draws to a close, that river now marks the front line of a new and deeply unsettling conflict: the weaponization of water in one of the world’s most volatile regions.
According to The Express Tribune, the Indus, once a shared lifeline, is increasingly being used as a tool of political leverage and strategic influence. The stakes are high: nearly 80% of Pakistan’s irrigated agriculture depends on the Indus Basin, and the country’s storage capacity for river water is alarmingly low—barely enough to last a month. In a region where every drop counts, even minor disruptions can have devastating economic and social consequences.
The latest escalation began earlier this year, after the tragic Pahalgam attack in April 2025. In retaliation, India took the extraordinary step of suspending the Indus Waters Treaty (IWT), a move that sent shockwaves through diplomatic circles and left Pakistan facing what the Sydney-based Institute for Economics and Peace called an “acute risk of scarcity.” Their Ecological Threat Report 2025, as cited in Dawn, warned that the suspension “gives India the ability to control the westward flow of the Indus and its tributaries into Pakistan.”
“Even small disruptions at critical moments could hurt Pakistani agriculture since Pakistan lacks sufficient storage to buffer variations. Pakistan’s own dam capacity can hold only about 30 days of Indus flow; any prolonged cut would be disastrous if not managed,” the report stated. The threat is not just hypothetical. In May, India carried out “reservoir flushing” operations at the Salal and Baglihar dams on the Chenab River without notifying Pakistan—a clear breach of the treaty’s cooperative spirit. As a result, stretches of the Chenab River in Punjab reportedly ran dry for several days, only for sediment-laden torrents to come rushing downstream once the dam gates were reopened.
The technicalities of dam operations might seem arcane, but their impact is anything but. “Interruption of Indus flows threatens its food security directly, and thus its national survival. Indeed, about 80 per cent of Pakistan’s irrigated agriculture depends on the Indus basin rivers,” the Ecological Threat Report continued. For a country whose population is densely packed along the river’s plains, the prospect of severe water shortages—especially in winter and dry seasons—raises the specter of crisis.
India’s ability to manipulate the timing of water releases, even if it cannot fully stop or divert the flow, is a powerful lever. As The Express Tribune noted, “its control over dam operations allows it to manipulate the timing of water releases—a capability that carries serious implications for Pakistan.” The consequences of such manipulation go beyond agriculture. They ripple through the economy, threaten livelihoods, and inflame political tensions that have already reached a boiling point.
The Indus Waters Treaty, signed in 1960 with World Bank mediation, was long hailed as a rare beacon of cooperation. It divided the basin’s six rivers, granting India control over the eastern rivers (Ravi, Beas, Sutlej) and Pakistan the western ones (Indus, Jhelum, Chenab). Remarkably, the treaty survived three wars between the neighbors—a testament to its importance and resilience. But, as the Ecological Threat Report 2025 and both Dawn and The Express Tribune recount, its stability began to erode in the 2000s as political tensions deepened and India moved to fully utilize its share of the eastern rivers.
The situation reached a tipping point after the Pahalgam attack. India’s suspension of the treaty was met with stark warnings from Islamabad. “Any diversion of Pakistan’s water is to be treated as an act of war,” Pakistani officials declared, according to Dawn. The sense of crisis was palpable, especially after India’s May 2025 Operation Sindoor, which raised fears of a wider conflict. By June, Indian Home Minister Amit Shah announced that the treaty would remain suspended permanently.
These actions have not gone unnoticed by the international community. The Ecological Threat Report 2025 confirmed the growing risk that water flow manipulation could become a form of strategic pressure, especially as regional tensions escalate. The report cautioned that while India’s current infrastructure limits its ability to halt river flows entirely, “even small interruptions can have disastrous short-term consequences for Pakistan’s farming sector.”
It’s easy to overlook the human cost in the midst of geopolitical maneuvering, but for millions of Pakistanis, the stakes are painfully real. With Pakistan’s storage capacity limited to about 30 days of Indus flow, there’s precious little buffer against sudden changes. The drying of the Chenab River in Punjab wasn’t just a technical hiccup—it was a warning shot, a glimpse of what could happen if cooperation gives way to confrontation.
For more than six decades, the Indus Waters Treaty stood as one of South Asia’s most critical peace mechanisms. Its erosion now threatens to destabilize not only India and Pakistan but also the broader region. As The Express Tribune observed, “Its erosion would not only weaken one of South Asia’s most critical peace mechanisms but also risk drawing in external powers whose strategic interests could complicate the situation further.”
What’s next for the Indus? The river’s fate hangs in the balance, caught between technical disputes, political posturing, and the basic human need for water. The Ecological Threat Report 2025 urges both sides to recognize that “water is not a weapon, nor should it ever become one. It is a shared lifeline that demands collective responsibility and restraint.”
As the region grapples with the fallout, the lessons of the past loom large. The Indus Waters Treaty, for all its imperfections, was a model of what’s possible when dialogue and respect prevail over suspicion and rivalry. Its breakdown is a sobering reminder of how fragile peace can be—and how quickly it can be swept away by the currents of history.
Amid the uncertainty, one thing is clear: the stability of South Asia depends on both India and Pakistan stepping back from the brink and recommitting to the principle that rivers, like peace itself, are best managed together.