Arshad Mahmood Awan
India’s claim that it has placed the Indus Waters Treaty in “abeyance” is not merely provocative. It is legally meaningless. As Pakistan’s Indus Waters Commissioner has rightly pointed out, international law recognises no such category. A treaty is either in force, suspended by mutual agreement, lawfully terminated under defined conditions, or violated. There is no recognised middle ground where one party can simply step back at will. What New Delhi has attempted is the creation of a legal grey zone that does not exist in treaty law.
The Indus Waters Treaty, brokered by the World Bank in 1960, was designed precisely to survive political turbulence between Pakistan and India. Its architects understood that water disputes, if politicised, could become a permanent source of instability. That is why the treaty endured the wars of 1965 and 1971, the Kargil conflict, and decades of deep hostility. It was meant to function even when diplomacy failed. This logic is embedded in the treaty’s text, which provides detailed and binding mechanisms for cooperation, data sharing, and dispute resolution.
India’s April 2025 announcement came in the aftermath of the Pahalgam attack in occupied Kashmir, an incident New Delhi blamed on Pakistan without presenting publicly verifiable evidence. Using a security incident, however tragic, to justify suspending cooperation under a water-sharing treaty crosses a dangerous threshold. It blurs the line between political grievance and legal obligation, undermining the very idea of rules-based international conduct.
The international response has not supported India’s position. In June, the Permanent Court of Arbitration made it clear that India has no legal authority to unilaterally place the treaty in abeyance. Legal experts and policy analysts abroad have warned that treating water as a coercive tool sets a troubling precedent, particularly in regions already under severe climate stress. If such behaviour is normalised, it could destabilise water-sharing arrangements far beyond South Asia.
Pakistan’s response has been firm but restrained. Officials have warned that any attempt to obstruct Pakistan’s lawful share of water would amount to an act of war. While the language is strong, the concern behind it is real. The western rivers allocated to Pakistan are not a diplomatic lever. They are the backbone of the country’s agriculture, a key source of hydropower, and essential for the livelihoods of millions. Even limited interference, whether through physical obstruction or procedural delay, can have far-reaching consequences.
Equally concerning is India’s broader pattern of behaviour under the treaty. Delays in sharing data, bypassing agreed dispute-resolution forums, and attempting to recast technical disagreements as political issues have steadily eroded trust. Such actions do not only affect Pakistan. They weaken confidence among international stakeholders who have long viewed the Indus Waters Treaty as a rare success story in transboundary water management.
Pakistan’s decision to pursue legal and diplomatic remedies is therefore both sensible and necessary. The objective is not escalation, but enforcement. Treaties exist to restrain power and provide predictability, not to be reinterpreted unilaterally when convenient. In an era of increasing water scarcity and climate uncertainty, the Indus Waters Treaty is more important than ever. But its survival depends on one basic principle: rules must be respected, not paused.
