Indus Waters: Changing Course, not just Tact.

(Full version of the op-ed that I submitted. The editors of The News just cut it up without without consulting me. It's hard for me to gauge how much of the meaning has been lost.)

My friend Zirgham Afridi, in his op-ed last Tuesday, notes that the Indus and her sister rivers, may God's blessings on them and through them, last long, are back in the discussion. His appraisal of the issue is excellent, being articulate and dispassionate. But it is dangerously narrow. His narrative needs to be complemented with a glimpse of the bigger picture of what is happening to our rivers, and indeed to our planet, even as policy-makers sit to deliberate on the Indus Water Treaty (IWT).  A glimpse of that bigger picture can be gainfully shared with the readers of this paper. But first, an anecdote.

Three-and-a-half year ago, while taking a course on International Law, and attending a class devoted to the Indus Water Treaty, I went in with ideas about rivers and riparian treaties, quite similar to those expressed by the learned Mr. Afridi. Legalistic, utilitarian and in a sense, purely rational. But then, there was something about the nondescript, humble-sounding visiting Lecture who taught that class, and the things that have I since read and certain intimate experiences I subsequently went through, that my perspective has changed entirely. This week, when Mr. Afridi invited me, as one of his readers, to examine the IWT's value as a framework "given the changes... since 1960", an entirely different set of images welled up in my mind, that what would have come up, three-and-a-half years ago.

I did not think of abstruse treaty clauses and their differing legal interpretations nor of yet-to-be-built dams and possible megawatts to be harnessed. I began to think, instead, about the once mighty and beautiful rivers, Ravi and Sutlej, the vast valleys once associated with each, and the thousand of species who lived off them. I juxtaposed this image of nature’s abundance with that of the now dead and parched river beds, and I felt sad. For thousands, perhaps hundreds of thousand of years, these rivers and the peoples who lived off them lived and breathed in great freedom. The sagacious savages realized that just as human life is not all about wealth, rivers are not just about water; and water, in turn, is not just about what it is worth to us humans. Somehow, in this last century, these eternal truths seem to have eluded us.

Mr. Afridi points out that any solution to the IWT imbroglio must start with the sober realization that "India as a country faces energy issues just like Pakistan does. It is only natural that India tries to extract maximum leeway on what it is allowed to do with the western rivers" He’s right. The problem is not just with India; it afflicts both Pakistan and India. Both neighbours, as almost everybody on the planet today, seem to be doing the same thing: mercilessly exploiting rivers at the altar of (energy and irrigation) greed. But Mr. Afridi is wrong to suggest that the “maximum leeway” or “unrestricted use” approach is “only natural.” In fact, it is far from so. How and why have come to accept this as “only natural”? Why do we, today, as almost everyone else on the plan, need so much water? How have we come to justify this no-limits-barred approach to natural bounties? Is it because, as a civilization, there is there something “wrong” with us?

Increasingly, it seems that we are not getting to any sustainable solutions to the IWT until we start asking these bigger questions.

The faith that most Pakistanis so proudly profess, tells us that God created the earth and its rivers not just for us but for all His creatures. I based this claim upon (an admittedly personal interpretation of) Surah Rahman Verse 10: "It is He Who has spread out the earth for (His) creatures." Yet, somehow, today we find nothing wrong with milking the rivers dry, eliminating their very existence and that of all the communities and species dependent on them, only because our mutual political and economic expediency demands this. I doubt if either Islam or Hinduism allow for the earth and its bounties to be so heartlessly distributed, as though they were the spoils of a war with nature. Islam, for one, obliges the human "khalifa" to cultivate the earth, and not cause it permanent and irreparable harm. We are allowed by the divine to cultivate a river's capacity to confer benefits on us and other creatures who share its barakaat, but should we construe that as license to simply 'kill' the goose for the golden eggs? By completely re-engineering the river system and eliminating several rivers altogether, are we upsetting  the ‘meezan’ that God had himself set upon the earth? Here, I do not intend to answer these questions definitively. But when talking about the IWT, aren’t these questions worth thinking about? 

PART II

Today the bigger picture in front of us is not the Indian threat; it is the imminent global environmental disaster, now staring all nations in the face. The picture that environmental scientists paint of the planet’s future is, to say the last, dismal. It might have been excusable to miss that possibility out in the 1960s when the Indus Water Treaty (IWT) was drafted. But it is criminal to do the same now - now when the Earth seems to be convulsing under the weight of our sins, manifesting in the form of unprecedented pollution, amassed by a civilization whose very basis seems to be the 'greed principle'. In 2012, when negotiating about river systems, the top-priority on both sides can no longer be the maximization of 'national self-interest'; that realist vision of public policy has, time and time again, proven itself to be a disaster. We have walked through hell in chasing this gold-rush vision. There has to be an end to this now. The priority now, particularly in questions such as the IWT, has to be the concept of doing 'least violence' to the eco-system – an ideal shared in the ethical traditions of both India and Pakistan, and possibly across the major religious communities of the world. Any treaty which fails to recognize this value seems to me unjust, possibly unIslamic and unconstitutional, call it what you may. This should have been obvious from day one. But perhaps we were blinded from seeing things that way, because of religiously-disguised nationalism or, alternatively, the secular ideology of popular. Even a little bit of intellectual integrity is sufficient to show that the 20^th century “maximum leeway” approach to nature’s bounties is neither in conformity with the edicts of religion, nor does it, in the longer run, maximize public utility. It is plain and simple greed, formally theorized and systematized.

 
Three-and-a-half years ago, when that nondescript visiting lecturer first planted these ideas in my head, I hated him for it. By waxing lyrical about his love for the rivers and the respect we owe to them, he upset the smug lawyer and calculating social scientist in me. He said the problem does not start with the rivers, not even with the treaty. It starts with ourselves – and the way we live. Later in the course of my education, I came to accept what the most profound thinkers of our modern time have long pointed out: at the heart of modern civilization’s most intransigent political problems are ethical problems, problem about ‘the ends worth striving for’ and not just those about the most efficient means. Similarly, at the heart of Indus waters imbroglio lies a similar ethical question which people on both sides of the border need to pose to themselves: Is it right to exploit our rivers so mercilessly, even if we are “legally” entitled to do so? (The legality here refers, of course, merely to legality under ‘positive treaty law’ and not some higher conception of legality.) Are we not heading to a position of irreconcilable conflict by forgetting the maxim that the “world has enough for everyone’s need but enough for anybody’s greed”?

Prevalent social science discourse often side steps such difficult ethical quandaries. May be, social science, like any other science, simply isn't structured to show us the 'ends'; it is all about determining the most efficient 'means' to ends which human beings have already agreed upon. Amidst what is no less than a global civilizational crisis, the ‘ends’ can no longer remain beyond the purview of examination. That has been our state for far too long. We are paying for it. It was almost a century ago, when the great, perhaps the greatest, sociologist of our times, Max Weber noted the retreat of values from public life. In perhaps the final year of his life, he observed this at a public lecture, in words which ring with an air of ominous finality: “the ultimate and most sublime values have retreated from public life either into the transcendental realm of mystic life or into the brotherliness of direct and personal human relations” The result of that retreat is a narrow, legalistic and scientistic vision of public policy, which has lead the human community to where we now stand – a civilizational crisis of which recurrent water crises are only a small manifestation. The same vision of public policy which has led us to the precipice cannot bring us back. If our problems are to be resolved at all, they have to be viewed not only scientifically but also once again in the light of ultimate and sublime values. This is why I must insist that we owe it to the public to hark our discourse back to the bigger picture, even if the exigencies of daily life scarcely allow for such a broad perspective.

I do not mean to suggest that we, at least the lawyers who are paid to do so, should stop discussing the 'means' for getting the best bargain out of present legal and political arrangements. But, the 'thinkers' amongst us have a higher obligation: to view problems in the light of a stated vision for the better world. If that does not go beyond winning Pakistan a better deal vis-a-vis India; it is suitable only for a cricket match. In the arena of life, it is not even worth having. As far as I can see it, the better world, for those of us who believe in God, is one where the will of the Lord is least disobeyed and the balance He has set on the Earth is least disturbed. It is a world where not just the human child, but all of God's creation, is allowed to live a life of peace, plenty and soulful prayer. And if have the courage to accept it, let us frankly acknowledge that this is not exactly the same thing as the developmentalist agenda of achieving highest average global “GDP” per capita. These are different goals to be aspiring to. And different goals, quite obviously, should manifest in different policies and considerations.

If India and Pakistan were to negotiate a treaty bearing the former vision in mind, rest assured the result would not be even remotely close to the IWT. We wont have as many megawatts or as many hectares of perennially irrigated land. But we also won’t end up with dead rivers and dying valleys. This statement might shock some readers. But it is as true as the cliché that if we, believers in organized religions all over the world, really lived the faiths we profess, the condition of the planet would not be even remotely similar to its pitiable modern condition. More than ever before, at this supposed ‘end of history’, these bigger questions are worth asking. It does not matter which side of the border you are on. The need is to be sure about the direction in which, we, as a civilization, want to head. The default direction doesn’t seem very sunny. Seers have been saying it for a while but even scientists now seem convinced. Today we are called upon by history to change course, not just tact. The gamut of tacts, IWT terms and conditions included, even lesser mortals can determine.

Author: Umer Gilani is a lawyer and researcher based in Islamabad.