Before the last drop

Water is often described as the lifeblood of nations, and for Pakistan this metaphor could not be more fitting. As a policy analyst deeply engaged in issues of sustainable development, I find it troubling, and frankly alarming, how often our national discourse still treats water scarcity as a distant threat rather than the immediate and escalating crisis that it is.

Nowhere is this crisis more visible than in Islamabad, Pakistan’s capital and symbol of modernity, which despite its manicured parks and glistening avenues, is not immune to the creeping spectre of water insecurity. In fact, the capital stands as a microcosm of the larger water management failures that afflict the entire country.

Yet, even infrastructure alone cannot fix what is fundamentally a governance and policy failure. Realistic water pricing is one of the most critical reforms missing from the National Water Policy. The policy cautiously suggests linking pricing to “users’ ability to pay,” a politically safe but practically unworkable approach. Without proper water valuation, especially in agriculture, there is little incentive for conservation. Our farmers, many of whom still rely on flood irrigation methods, use water as though it were limitless. Introducing tiered water pricing, subsidising efficient technologies like drip irrigation, and penalising excessive use could drive behavioural change. It is also high time we shift from a ‘build more’ mindset to a ‘use better’ paradigm.

The approval of Pakistan’s first National Water Policy in April 2018 was long overdue and, in many ways, a milestone moment. It was remarkable to see all four provincial chief ministers and the prime minister come together in consensus – a rarity in our polarised political climate. This moment of unity should be celebrated. However, the more important and pressing question remains: what happens next? The answer, unfortunately, is not encouraging. While the policy acknowledges some of the country’s pressing water challenges and outlines general directions, it remains vague, technically outdated, and lacks a robust, actionable implementation framework. The reality on the ground demands a far more ambitious and innovative approach than the current document.

One of the NWP's biggest flaws is its use of outdated data. It cites 1951 figures showing 5,260 cubic metres of water per person annually. Today, with population growth and dwindling water resources, that number has fallen to less than 1,000 cubic metres – closer to 823 when using current estimates of total renewable water resources (138.4 million acre-feet). This places Pakistan well below international water-scarcity thresholds.

Even this doesn't show the whole picture. The policy confuses water availability with accessibility. In many urban areas, especially Islamabad, freshwater is contaminated and unsafe due to untreated wastewater. Pakistan discharges nearly 962,335 million gallons of untreated wastewater annually, polluting rivers, canals, and aquifers. Once vital to Punjab, the Ravi River is now more a toxic drain than a river.

Despite ranking among the top five countries with wastewater-irrigated farmland, Pakistan treats only 1.2 per cent of its urban wastewater – far behind China’s 71 per cent and India’s 22 per cent. In Islamabad, rapid urbanisation has overwhelmed sanitation systems, allowing sewage and industrial waste to mix directly with freshwater supplies. This widespread, largely ignored contamination already drives up waterborne diseases and poses long-term health risks. Without urgent reforms, Pakistan’s water crisis will continue to deepen, endangering people and ecosystems.

Groundwater, often thought of as an infinite reserve, is being recklessly overexploited. In Pakistan, we extract around 50 MAF of groundwater each year, mostly for irrigation. Yet our natural recharge rate is only about 55 cubic kilometres annually. We are quite literally pumping ourselves dry. In regions like the Rachna Doab, groundwater tables are expected to fall by 10 to 20 metres by 2025. Even in Islamabad, tube wells are being drilled deeper each year to access vanishing aquifers.

Our agricultural practices compound this crisis of over-extraction. Despite water scarcity, we continue to grow and export water-intensive crops like rice, cotton, and sugarcane. Our rice water productivity stands at just 0.45 kilograms per cubic metre, far below the Asian average of one kilogram. Essentially, we are exporting our groundwater for a pittance, fueling economic inefficiency and ecological collapse.

The construction of new dams is often touted as a silver bullet. The Kalabagh Dam, with a proposed active storage capacity of 6.1 maf, is frequently portrayed as the answer to all our woes. However, the projected water demand-supply gap by 2025 is estimated at 83 maf. According to a UNDP report, we would need at least 13 dams of Kalabagh’s scale to bridge this chasm. If completed, even the much-hyped Diamer-Basha Dam would add only 6.4 maf.

Meanwhile, annual water losses due to seepage and evaporation amount to a staggering 46 maf. In this context, investing in plugging these leaks by lining canals and modernising irrigation infrastructure could be far more cost-effective than building mega-dams. If we reduce losses by even a third, we could save twice the water that the Diamer-Basha Dam would store, at less than half the cost.

Yet, even infrastructure alone cannot fix what is fundamentally a governance and policy failure. Realistic water pricing is one of the most critical reforms missing from the NWP. The policy cautiously suggests linking pricing to “users’ ability to pay”, a politically safe but practically unworkable approach. Without proper water valuation, especially in agriculture, there is little incentive for conservation. Our farmers, many of whom still rely on flood irrigation methods, are using water as though it were limitless. Introducing tiered water pricing, subsidising efficient technologies like drip irrigation, and penalising excessive use could drive behavioural change. It is also high time we shift from a ‘build more’ mindset to a ‘use better’ paradigm.

Water insecurity is not just a domestic governance challenge but a geopolitical flashpoint. The recent decision by India to initiate the suspension of the Indus Waters Treaty following the Pahalgam attack is a sobering reminder of how quickly water can be weaponised in times of conflict. The IWT, often hailed as one of the world's most successful water-sharing accords, has survived multiple wars between the two countries. Yet today, it hangs by a thread, vulnerable to the region's political volatility. This escalation should prompt urgent introspection within Pakistan: if our external water supply can be throttled at will, what are we doing to secure and manage our internal water resources more effectively?

In Islamabad, there is immense potential for pilot reforms. Smart water metering, wastewater recycling plants, rooftop rainwater harvesting and public awareness campaigns can be tested at the city level before being scaled nationally. For instance, mandating rainwater harvesting in all new residential and commercial buildings could drastically reduce groundwater reliance. Similarly, incentivizing the use of greywater systems for gardening and flushing can ease the burden on freshwater demand. These are not futuristic fantasies; they are already practised in countries facing similar or worse water challenges.

But innovation cannot flourish in a vacuum. What we need is a coordinated approach – one that brings together policymakers, engineers, climate scientists, economists and local communities. The crisis is not just technical; it is deeply social and political. It requires the courage to question entrenched agricultural subsidies, to challenge vested interests resisting water pricing, and to educate a public that has grown complacent about a resource once taken for granted.

The water crisis is here, and it is real. But it is also manageable. If we stop thinking in silos and start treating water as a shared, finite, and precious resource, we might still be able to rewrite Pakistan’s future. Let Islamabad lead by example, not as a city of concrete and consumption, but as a model for sustainable water governance. We must act now- before the crisis becomes tomorrow’s tragedy.

The writer is a policy analyst and researcher with a Master’s degree in public policy from King’s College London.