In the aftermath of Operation Sindoor and the horrific April 22 attack in Pahalgam, Jammu & Kashmir ~ where 26 civilians, mostly tourists, lost their lives ~ the government’s sharpened focus on the Indus river system marks a significant shift in India’s strategic posture. As national grief turned into political resolve, Delhi’s response has included suspending its participation in the Indus Waters Treaty (IWT) and fast-tracking infrastructure on rivers allocated to Pakistan. But while the impulse to retaliate is understandable, India’s move to potentially weaponise water could be a perilous path, both diplomatically and environmentally.

The IWT, signed in 1960, has withstood wars, border skirmishes, and diplomatic frost. It has long been viewed as a rare example of pragmatic cooperation between two hostile neighbors. India’s decision to re-evaluate the treaty and pursue unilateral hydrological projects ~ like doubling the length of the Ranbir canal on the Chenab ~ may seem like a demonstration of sovereignty and strength. Yet, it raises questions about long-term consequences. First, any significant diversion of Indus waters would take years to implement. Projects of this scale involve complex engineering, significant environmental assessments, and financial investment.

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Yet the political optics of such plans ~ especially in the wake of Pahalgam ~ can inflame tensions faster than any dam can be built. Islamabad has already declared that such diversions would constitute an act of war, highlighting how water, once a tool for peace, is now emerging as a geopolitical fault line. India must also recognise that any disruption to Indus flows can worsen already dire economic and social conditions in Pakistan, potentially fueling greater instability in the region. Strategic advantage must not come at the cost of regional collapse or humanitarian fallout. Secondly, India’s credibility as a responsible upper riparian state is at stake.

If Delhi unilaterally abrogates or sidelines an international agreement, it undermines its moral position in other cross-border water disputes ~ particularly with China, which controls the headwaters of the Brahmaputra and other Himalayan rivers. Encouraging the idea that water treaties are conditional may prove selfdefeating in the long run. Moreover, in a climate-stressed subcontinent, where glacial melt and erratic monsoons already threaten water security, escalatory hydro-politics could be disastrous. Rather than treating water as a finite commodity to be hoarded or denied, the future demands cooperative basin management and resilient infrastructure. That said, Pakistan cannot continue to ignore its responsibilities, and if the threat to agriculture forces it to abandon its support to terrorists, it will be a welcome outcome.

The persistence of cross-border terrorism and its denialism over the Pahalgam massacre have severely eroded trust. India’s push to assert its treaty rights and develop its own water infrastructure ~ within legal bounds ~ should be seen as a sovereign imperative, not an act of provocation. India must remain clear-eyed. The symbolism of water runs deep in both culture and strategy, but its use as a tool of coercion can trigger cycles of conflict that outlive any single act of terror. The challenge ahead is to uphold strength without sacrificing prudence ~ a balance that defines mature statecraft