For decades, Afghanistan’s rivers have flowed with little interruption across its borders, nourishing fields and communities as far afield as Iran, Pakistan, and the Central Asian republics. But after more than forty years of war, Afghanistan’s ability to manage these precious resources was all but shattered. Now, with the Taliban firmly in control since 2021, a new chapter is unfolding—one in which water, not just land or ideology, has become the focus of both hope and tension across the region.
According to AFP, Afghanistan’s five major river basins—lifelines for millions beyond its borders—have long slipped through the country’s grasp, their waters feeding downstream nations. But the Taliban is determined to change that. In a bid for water sovereignty, they have launched a series of ambitious infrastructure projects: dams, canals, and irrigation networks designed to harness Afghanistan’s share of the region’s increasingly scarce water. The most controversial of these, the Qosh Tepa canal, is already sending ripples of anxiety through Central Asia.
The Qosh Tepa project, if completed as planned, could divert up to 21 percent of the Amu Darya’s flow to irrigate some 560,000 hectares of drought-stricken land in northern Afghanistan. That’s a staggering figure for a river that is, as BBC notes, vital to the agricultural economies of Uzbekistan, Turkmenistan, and Kazakhstan. These countries have voiced alarm, fearing the canal could further deplete the already shrinking Aral Sea and threaten their own food security. “No matter how friendly the tone is now, at some point there will be consequences for Uzbekistan and Turkmenistan when the canal starts operating,” warned water governance expert Mohd Faizee on August 17, 2025, as quoted by AFP.
Yet Taliban officials insist the project is both necessary and sustainable. Project manager Sayed Zabihullah Miri, speaking to AFP, painted a picture of abundance: “There is an abundance of water, especially when the Amu Darya floods and glacial meltwater flows into it.” He and other Taliban leaders argue that the canal will not harm their neighbors and instead will address Afghanistan’s acute food insecurity, which has only worsened under the twin pressures of drought and economic crisis.
But the region’s water woes are not confined to the north. To the west, Iran and Afghanistan share the Helmand River, the only waterway governed by a formal treaty—an agreement struck in 1973 but never fully implemented. Tensions have flared repeatedly, especially during periods of drought. Iran accuses Afghanistan of restricting the river’s flow with upstream dams, starving its parched southeastern provinces and a critical border lake. The Taliban, for their part, blame the region’s worsening climate and decades of poor water management, insisting there simply isn’t enough water to meet everyone’s needs. As noted by the Afghanistan Analysts Network, the Taliban argue that “climate pressures and poor water management have left Afghanistan short of its fair share.”
Meanwhile, Afghanistan’s infrastructure ambitions are reshaping relations with Turkmenistan as well. The Harirud River, which flows through both countries and into Iran, remains without a formal sharing agreement. Some of the infrastructure on the Afghan side, such as the Pashdan dam inaugurated in August 2025, is only now being fully utilized, a development made possible by the end of large-scale conflict. “The end of conflict means infrastructure works don’t incur vast security costs,” Faizee told AFP, highlighting how peace—however fragile—can open the door to long-delayed development.
To the east, Afghanistan’s water story grows even more complex. The Kabul River, which eventually feeds into Pakistan’s mighty Indus, is a crucial source for both countries. Yet, as Reuters reports, no formal water-sharing mechanism exists. With Kabul city itself in the grip of a severe water crisis, the Taliban are pushing to revive old projects and launch new ones—moves that could stoke fresh tensions with Pakistan. But here, too, progress is slow. Funding is tight, technical expertise is in short supply, and the region’s political climate is anything but predictable. As both AFP and BBC note, these delays might buy time for diplomacy, but they also prolong the hardship for ordinary Afghans who depend on reliable water supplies for their crops, animals, and daily life.
Underlying all these disputes is a challenge that transcends borders: climate change. Rising temperatures and shifting precipitation patterns are shrinking the glaciers and snowpack that feed Afghanistan’s rivers, making the region’s water future even more uncertain. According to AFP, “climate change is worsening water scarcity, with rising temperatures and shifting precipitation threatening glaciers that feed Afghanistan’s rivers.” The result is a shared crisis, one that no country can solve alone, yet which often drives neighbors apart.
Diplomacy, then, has become as essential as engineering. Central Asian states, while alarmed by the Qosh Tepa canal, are also deepening diplomatic ties with the Taliban, even as most of the world continues to shun the new regime. Russia is the only major power to have granted official recognition so far, but the prospect of water shortages could force even reluctant neighbors to the negotiating table.
As the Taliban assert their vision of water sovereignty, the stakes are high—for Afghanistan and for all who depend on its rivers. The country’s leaders face formidable technical and financial hurdles, and their projects have yet to deliver relief to ordinary Afghans. But the geopolitical consequences are already being felt. “Dams and canals have heightened tensions with downstream states, complicating the Taliban’s efforts to build regional ties amid global isolation,” AFP observed, capturing the delicate balance between national interests and regional stability.
There’s no denying the urgency. Afghanistan’s population is heavily dependent on agriculture, a sector uniquely vulnerable to both mismanagement and climate shocks. Food security, regional peace, and even the survival of entire communities hang in the balance. In the words of Mohd Faizee, “consequences” are inevitable if cooperation fails to keep pace with ambition.
As Afghanistan moves to reclaim control over its rivers, its neighbors watch warily, weighing their own needs against the risks of confrontation. The story of Afghanistan’s water is far from over. It’s a test not just of engineering and diplomacy, but of the region’s ability to adapt to a hotter, drier, and more unpredictable future.