Choking the Jugular: India’s Indus Ultimatum to Pakistan

Any reworking or revocation of the IWT represents not just a diplomatic earthquake, but an existential crisis for Pakistan’s agricultural lifeline.

In a bold and provocative address on April 16, Pakistan’s Chief of Army Staff, General Asim Munir, reignited regional tensions by declaring Kashmir as “the jugular vein of Pakistan.”

In light of the devastating Pahalgam strike where terrorists slaughtered 25 civilians, mostly tourists, while injuring several more, the metaphor of the “jugular vein,” famously used by Pakistan’s founder Muhammad Ali Jinnah has cast a renewed spotlight on the geopolitical and hydrological importance of Kashmir.

One of the first retaliatory acts of the Indian government following the terror attack has been to suspend the Indus Waters Treaty (IWT) - a six-decade-old pact long hailed as a rare triumph of diplomacy between two implacable rivals.

India’s Foreign Secretary, Vikram Misri, in a terse statement, said: “The Indus Waters Treaty of 1960 will be held in abeyance with immediate effect until Pakistan credibly and irrevocably abjures its support for cross-border terrorism.”

It is high time Pakistan realises that if peace is not honoured, even rivers can be redirected.

The IWT, brokered in 1960 by the World Bank, has withstood wars, air strikes and the chill of many diplomatic freezes. It was seen, often idealistically, as proof that even bitter foes could share a river. But rivers, like treaties, run only as deep as the trust that sustains them.

To understand the weight of this moment, one must recall the vision that underpinned the original agreement. In the wake of the bloody Partition in 1947, the two young nations had managed to negotiate a framework that divided the waters of the Indus basin. The eastern rivers - the Ravi, Beas, and Sutlej - went to India while the western ones - the Indus, Jhelum, and Chenab - to Pakistan. Over the decades, through wars and strife, engineers, hydrologists and bureaucrats kept the IWT humming quietly even when guns roared at Kargil and across the Line of Control.

Now, with that machinery paused post-Pahalgam, it is unclear what will follow. Prime Minister Modi’s statement in 2016 “blood and water cannot flow together” has never felt more relevant. As Pakistan’s military continues to support terror networks targeting Indian civilians, its leaders paradoxically expect India to honour the Indus Waters Treaty with unshaken generosity.

Pakistan’s dilemma echoes Lady Macbeth’s haunting realization in Shakespeare’s Macbeth: “Will all great Neptune’s ocean wash this blood clean from my hand? No, this my hand will rather be the multitudinous seas incarnadine...” No sea of diplomacy can cleanse the stain of terror. Expecting Indian goodwill in water-sharing, while enabling cross-border violence is not just morally untenable it is strategically naïve.

Kashmir remains Pakistan’s jugular vein not just metaphorically as the rivers nourish its land and sustain its economy. A reworking or revocation of the Indus Waters Treaty would represent not just a diplomatic earthquake, but an existential crisis for Pakistan’s agricultural lifeline.

Kashmir has long ceased to be merely a territorial dispute. It is the geographical heart of the Indus River system, which sustains over 80 percent of Pakistan’s irrigated agriculture. The Indus, Jhelum, and Chenab rivers, that account for Pakistan’s most fertile regions, originate in the Indian part of Kashmir.

Although the IWT gave Pakistan rights to the three western rivers, the control of their headwaters rests with India. In simple terms, Pakistan’s agriculture relies on water that flows from land it does not control. If India were to significantly restrict or reduce the flow of water through the western rivers, the first casualty would be Pakistan’s agricultural economy. This is because Pakistan is the fourth-largest exporter of rice in the world. Rice, being a water-intensive crop, relies heavily on consistent irrigation from the Indus basin. A drop in water supply would drastically lower yield, impacting both food security and export revenue.

Furthermore, Pakistan’s textile sector, which constitutes nearly 60 percent of its total exports, depends on locally grown cotton, another crop that demands significant irrigation. Any disruption in river flows could cripple textile production, putting millions of jobs at risk. Reduced water availability would shrink crop production, leading to increased food prices, inflation and potential civil unrest particularly in urban centers that are already facing economic strain.

A disruption in water supply would rip Pakistan’s economy. Agriculture contributes around 20 percent to Pakistan’s GDP and employs nearly 40 percent of the labour force. Water scarcity would lead to GDP shrinkage and rising unemployment. With rice and cotton exports declining, foreign exchange reserves would fall further, pushing the country deeper into IMF dependency. Water scarcity could further spark provincial tensions, especially between Punjab and Sindh, both of which already struggle over water distribution.

India has so far upheld the Indus Waters Treaty, even under severe provocation. However, there is growing domestic pressure to link terror with water, and review the ‘one-sided benevolence’ of the IWT. Strategic thinkers argue that Pakistan cannot continue to export terror and simultaneously expect water generosity.

Pakistan today confronts the moral contradiction of seeking peace through water while stoking unrest through proxy conflict. Therefore, a reworking or revocation of the IWT represents not just a diplomatic earthquake, but an existential crisis for Pakistan’s agricultural lifeline.

(The author is an educator based in Mumbai. Views personal.)