Any attempt to stop the Kabul River flows may not only harm Pakistan’s crops, but also choke Afghanistan’s own food supply and trade lifelines
BY F. Z. Khan
The Kabul River is more than just a geographical feature; it is a lifeline that sustains millions of lives on both sides of the Durand Line. From the green valleys of Kunar and Nangarhar to the fertile plains of Khyber Pakhtunkhwa and Punjab, and down to Sindh and parts of Balochistan, this river represents centuries of ecological interdependence and human connectivity. Today, this vital artery risks becoming a source of friction rather than friendship, as Afghan Taliban’s so called interim government plans dams and water projects in a deeply nefarious collaboration with Pakistan’s arch-rival India, who has already unleashed water hostility since May this year, threaten to disrupt the natural balance that underpins livelihoods in both countries.
Recent reports of Afghanistan’s intent to construct major reservoirs on the Kabul and Kunar rivers have raised serious concerns in Islamabad. Experts warn that such projects could reduce Pakistan’s annual inflow by nearly 3 million acre-feet (MAF) — a 16 percent drop in an already water-stressed system. This shortfall would come at the most critical juncture of the agricultural calendar, the early Kharif season, when Tarbela Dam reaches its dead level and crops in Sindh and southern Punjab await sowing.
But the consequences of this reduction would not stop at Pakistan’s borders. Afghanistan itself stands to suffer, perhaps even more deeply. Nearly 80 percent of Afghanistan’s essential food imports including wheat, flour, rice, pulses, and vegetables originate from Pakistan. Any disruption to Pakistan’s agricultural output would inevitably drive up prices and reduce supplies flowing to Afghan markets. In other words, every drop withheld upstream risks becoming a meal lost downstream, on both sides.
No one disputes Afghanistan’s sovereign right to develop and manage its natural resources. However, the notion that damming the Kabul River will grant Afghanistan economic independence is a dangerous illusion. Large-scale hydropower and irrigation projects require vast sums of money, technical expertise, and long-term maintenance — capacities that remain limited under the current interim setup. Experts doubt whether such projects can materialize in the near future without massive external support.
That external support, unfortunately, is coming from a problematic direction. India’s recent pledge of one billion dollars in “assistance” to Afghanistan, supposedly for infrastructure and water projects, carries political undertones. History shows that New Delhi has long weaponized water diplomacy, manipulating the Jhelum and Chenab flows in violation of the Indus Waters Treaty. To imagine that its interest in Afghan dam-building is purely benevolent would be naïve. Rather, it fits into a broader strategy of encircling Pakistan and sowing discord in the region. Afghanistan must ask itself: will it allow itself to become a pawn in someone else’s hydro political game?
Pakistan has consistently respected Afghanistan’s legitimate riparian rights on the Chitral-Kunar system. It has never unilaterally diverted upstream flows, even though technically it could have explored such measures within its territory. This restraint stems from a recognition that water disputes must never override the bonds of culture, faith, and fraternity that link the two nations.
Unfortunately, no formal water-sharing agreement exists between Pakistan and Afghanistan, despite more than two decades of sporadic dialogue. One reason has been the international community’s non-recognition of the Taliban-led interim government, making formal treaty negotiations diplomatically complex. However, this should not prevent informal, technical, and confidence-building mechanisms from taking shape. Shared hydrology requires shared management, not unilateral decisions.
The Kabul River should be treated as a shared ecological asset, and not a political tool. A joint commission, scientific data exchange, and seasonal coordination could prevent misunderstandings and ensure equitable use. This is not about one country’s domination over another; it is about survival in an era of accelerating climate stress.
Afghanistan’s growing population and its need for irrigation are genuine. So too are Pakistan’s concerns about food security. But regional peace cannot survive without environmental peace. When rivers become weapons, they bring neither prosperity nor power, only drought, distrust, and displacement.
Consider what happens if Pakistan’s early Kharif crops fail because of reduced Kabul River inflows. Wheat and cotton yields would plummet, flour mills would slow down, and prices in Peshawar and Quetta which are considered the gateways for Afghan trade, would skyrocket. Obviously, truck convoys carrying food to Jalalabad and Kabul would thin out. For ordinary Afghan families, already burdened by poverty and inflation, this would mean less bread on the table and higher costs of survival.
Thus, harming Pakistan’s water security is not just an unfriendly act, it is self-defeating. The people of Afghanistan, who have always shared Pakistan’s soil, markets, hospitals, and hearts, would be the first to feel the ripple effect of water aggression. So, Pakistan’s approach remains clear: dialogue over dispute, and construction of trust over confrontation. It is already investing in massive domestic storage projects such as Diamer-Bhasha and Dasu dams to reduce dependence on transboundary flows. But no dam can store goodwill, that must be built through mutual understanding and respect.
The Taliban leadership must realize that stability does not come from concrete and cement, but from cooperation and compassion. Water can be a weapon or a bridge, the choice is theirs. By engaging constructively with Pakistan, Afghanistan can ensure that the Kabul River remains what it has always been: a symbol of life, not leverage.
Both Pakistan and Afghanistan are bound by geography, faith, and fate. The Kabul River does not recognize borders; it rather recognizes only gravity. Its flow teaches a profound lesson: when one side blocks the current, both banks suffer. So, it is time for wisdom to prevail over resentment, and for diplomacy to replace hostility. The interim Taliban government should not let Indian influence drag it into a water war that benefits no one. The shared rivers of our region must continue to flow not just with water, but with goodwill, trust, and hope for a peaceful, interdependent future. Let the rivers flow, and, at the same time, let the brotherhood and friendship grow. Eschew the path of hostility either on ground, or involving the water.
