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Drying Diplomacy: Evaluating the Legal Dimensions of Suspending the Indus Waters Treaty

In April 2025, gunfire shattered the uneasy calm of Pahalgam, a picturesque valley town under Kashmir’s rugged embrace, creating seismic geopolitical consequences. New Delhi, within weeks, came notarizing not just in speeches but in a marked recalibration of one of South Asia’s long-lasting diplomatic pacts—the Indus Waters Treaty (IWT). The treaty had survived six decades, extended through war, coups, and a steady churn in subcontinental politics. India's suspension—‘abeyance’ as they termed it—of the treaty meant more than just a policy shift, signalling a legal rupture. 


A large dam with cascading water is situated between two rocky hills with sparse greenery under a cloudy sky.
Illustration by Mukta Nitin Desai

This was not your run-of-the-mill rebuke. India treaded uncharted legal waters by using terrorism as the rationale for suspending its obligations under an international water-sharing agreement. In doing so, it tested the very building blocks of treaty law, an architecture traditionally hinged on reciprocity, stability, and good faith, rather than on retaliation and exception. 


An inflection point thus exists with India's suspension of the IWT that echoes beyond the immediate Indo-Pakistani dyad. It brings an urgent inquiry into whether international law allows suspension of treaty obligations based on persistent non-state violence. It tests the resilience of state sovereignty when faced with cross-border insecurity. Additionally, it invites an inquiry into how far so-called national security—a phrase that has become both a shield and a sword—can stretch before it guts the binding forces of international law.


In essence, India’s decision does not merely challenge Pakistan. It challenges international law itself.


The Indus Waters Treaty and the Pahalgam Attack


Born out of the acrid aftermath of partition and nurtured by Cold War diplomacy, the Indus Waters Treaty (IWT) of 1960 is considered one of the few instances of international dispute resolution that ended well. The treaty was brokered by the World Bank after nearly a decade of tense negotiations between India and Pakistan, and ended in something considered nearly impossible before: the lifeblood of a shared river system was divided between two hostile neighbors and placed under the aegis of enforceable international law. 


So far as the IWT framework is concerned, the six rivers of the Indus basin were divided. India got exclusive rights over the eastern rivers (Ravi, Beas, Sutlej), while Pakistan was given rights over the western rivers (Indus, Jhelum, Chenab) that contribute over 80% of the basin's total flow. India provides money for the building of water infrastructure in Pakistan through the treaty in return for upstream rights. Out of all the treaties of the world, this is a very rare kind of financial concession. 


This treaty incorporates detailed technical specifications concerning the rivers, machinery for dispute resolution, and an ongoing institutional oversight mechanism in the form of the Permanent Indus Commission (PIC), which water law scholars have long regarded as a prime example of hydro-diplomatic resilience. The constitution of the PIC is determined by Article VIII of the IWT, which mandates that each country appoint a commissioner to represent it, forming a bilateral commission together.


And yet, the resilience has always stood depending not upon the sinews of goodwill, but upon the iron muscles of pragmatism. In the land where water scarcity meets territoriality and nuclear threats, the IWT was more than just a mere legal document: it was a ceasefire disguised as cooperation, held together by pragmatism and not peace.


In April 2025, this uneasy equilibrium cracked. The Pahalgam attacks, wherein Hindu pilgrims and security forces were hurt in a terror attack, were a resurgence of the old tale of cross-border militancy. India, fast on its heels, blamed terrorist groups on the soil of Pakistan, with claims of involvement from within the Pakistani state, citing intelligence inputs and intercepted communications. 


In return, India suspended its participation in the Permanent Indus Commission, effectively putting the IWT on legal hold. India's Ministry of External Affairs (MEA) issued a formal statement regarding the suspension. Following a meeting of the Cabinet Committee on Security, Foreign Secretary Vikram Misri announced that India would place the treaty in abeyance until Pakistan "credibly and irrevocably abjures its support for cross-border terrorism." 


No public evidence has come into the spotlight to support the statements of Pakistan funding the terrorists. Apart from that, no known organization has taken responsibility. Critics such as local scholars and observers from the civil society have noted the unusually tight security in South Kashmir and have started questioning how such an attack could have been operationally possible. These ambiguities make the legality of suspending treaty obligations questionable, touching upon the credibility of treaties and the rigours of evidence demanded by international law.


Though it was not termed as a withdrawal or termination, it was a clear signal that India would not look at itself as bound to fulfill treaty prescriptions while terrorism threats went unaddressed.


This was not an isolated diplomatic message—it was a doctrinal shift. For the first time, India was tying treaty performance to the conduct of its counterpart, not merely in terms of water use, but in terms of terrorism. The IWT, long insulated from geopolitical turbulence, had suddenly been made porous to it.


The stakes could not be higher. The Indus basin is an ecological artery as well as a political artery. For Pakistan, with its lower riparian and agriculturally based economy, this is its existential resource. Any threat, real or perceived, is treated as not just a threat to nature but also as strategic intimidation.


Since IWT has traditionally been regarded as not merely a technical treaty but a peacekeeping mechanism, the buffer has withstood two wars (1965 and 1971) and one incident of conflict—Kargil—and several crises (Parakram and Pulwama). Its suspension opens up troubling prospects of water, already scantily available on account of climate change and population pressures, becoming an issue of policy. 


India, in turn, has maintained that terrorism and treaty obligations cannot be separated, and it cannot be expected to honor agreements with a country it accuses of harboring those responsible for shedding Indian blood. But in terms of international law, that theory opens some very thorny issues: First off, can non-state violence justify partial performance or non-performance of treaty obligations? Second, does terrorism amount to a "material breach" within the meaning of Article 60 of the Vienna Convention on the Law of Treaties (VCLT)? And finally, if it does, who decides? 


These aren't just academic issues. They go to the very core of whether predictability in treaty regimes can remain a viable option in an age where asymmetric warfare throws into question the definition of a state versus a non-state actor.


Treaty Suspension under International Law


Sometimes called the "constitution" of international treaty law, the Vienna Convention on the Law of Treaties (1969) lays down precise parameters when treaties might be legally suspended, terminated, or withdrawn from. These parameters, however, were drafted in an age of symmetrical state behavior and relative legal optimism. In today's fractured geopolitical terrain, they have been tried in unprecedented fashions, most notably when India unilaterally put into abeyance the Indus Waters Treaty after the Pahalgam terror attack.


Article 60 permitted suspension or termination of a treaty for "material breach"– defined as either the repudiation of the treaty or violation of an essential aspect of its object and purpose. But the key question is: what constitutes a breach in a water treaty, when the alleged breach pertains to acts of terrorism? Could violence perpetrated by non-state actors, allegedly supported by the other party, be considered such a breach?


Article 62, which is invoked far less frequently, allows for suspension when there has been a "fundamental change of circumstances," unforeseen at the time of the conclusion of the treaty, and which were essential to its basis. This threshold is extremely high, and with good reason. As the ICJ noted in the Gabcíkovo-Nagymaros Project (1997), the doctrine is not to be invoked lightly lest it "undermine the stability of treaty relations."


Putting this all together, we are faced with the question: was it ever foreseen in 1960 that there could be cross-border conflict or terrorism? Or was it part of the geopolitical situation that the treaty tried to neutralize? 


India has been quite diplomatic in its contentions. Indian officials have maintained that the current status of the IWT is in "abeyance", a word neither found in the VCLT nor appearing in most international law textbooks. What, then, does abeyance imply for a treaty?


Such abeyance is a legal minefield, one that considers neither termination nor formal suspension. Neither is it a pause, nor an exit. As Nivedita Kapoor of ORF puts it, abeyance allows the state to signal discontent or strategic reassessment without compromising the core structure of the treaty. Essentially, it is a political timeout hidden behind some legal ambiguity.


Without being codified into law, this doctrine finds analogues in state practice from time to time. Instances of the U.S. approach to the ABM Treaty under the Bush administration, or even the widely publicized "suspension" of Russian participation in the New START Treaty, suggest a new and modern use of abeyance as a strategic legal posture to hedge its compliance against all the consequences that would come with breach. 


Still, such informal instruments of statecraft remain highly controversial from a legal perspective. Their growing use may suggest an emerging customary norm, or merely the waning commitment to binding treaty obligations. In either case, they remain at the very margins of law, if even defined at all.


To evaluate whether India's invocation of terrorism can provide a legally defensible basis for the suspension of the IWT, start with the notion termed "material breach" under Article 60. If Pakistan had truly allowed groups to operate through its territory to harm India, could that constitute a violation of good faith under the treaty? Possibly, but only if one accepts the wider interpretation of treaty obligations to encompass security cooperation as well, which is not what the IWT explicitly provides. 


Here, then, attribution becomes pivotal. Under Articles 4–8 of the International Law Commission’s Articles on State Responsibility, a State would only be held responsible for the conduct of non-state actors where it directs, controls, or acknowledges their acts. Indeed, India has endless putative evidence of the linkage of groups such as Jaish-e-Mohammed to Pakistani soil, but legal attribution is a high evidentiary hurdle that cannot be overcome with ease. In the case of Nicaragua v. United States (1986), the ICJ held that "mere support" is not sufficient for attribution to exist without effective control. This makes it difficult for India to lend legal credibility to its claims that the Pakistani state supports terrorism.


On the other hand, necessity and proportionality are considered justifications for non-performance under the authority of customary international law. According to the International Law Commission’s Draft Articles on State Responsibility, to save an essential interest against a grave and imminent peril, the plea of necessity is available as the sole means. The repeated targeting of civilians and pilgrims could be argued with some incrimination of India as such a peril.


The ICJ's Oil Platforms judgment (Iran v. U.S., 2003) reminds us again that even in self-defense and necessity, an act should not be disproportionate and must be closely connected to the menace it is aimed at. The cessation of participation in a technical water commission is questionable as a proportionate response to cross-border terrorism. 


Legal experts remain divided. Kyle Coffey, writing for CSIS, warns that weaponizing water treaties sets a dangerous precedent that could unravel cross-boundary resource agreements worldwide. Similarly, Ayesha Ray of the Stimson Center sees this situation as an impetus for bolstering dispute resolution mechanisms rather than circumventing them. The moment that states begin associating treaty obligations with the behavior of non-state actors will be another step toward the disintegration of international law itself.


Legal and Political Responses Available to Pakistan


India’s decision to suspend cooperation under the Indus Waters Treaty has triggered more than a regional stir—it has rekindled the complexity of the legal and diplomatic puzzle for Pakistan. Trying to put up a response, Islamabad finds itself trying to traverse a field strewn with legal uncertainties, constricted institutional mechanisms, and the slow gears of multilateral diplomacy. But the tools—imperfect though they may be—are not unavailable. They exist through tribunals and geopolitical alliances. The question is not only whether they should be invoked, but also whether they would be effective.


Ironically, the IWT itself is the platform through which Pakistan can save itself. It provides for layered mechanisms for the resolution of disputes, prescribing in gradations the framework for dispute resolution through a Permanent Indus Commission (PIC) dialogue; appointment of a Neutral Expert by selecting an independent technical authority to resolve disputes that involve factual questions, as outlined in Annexure F of the treaty; or, in the most serious cases, arbitration through the Court of Arbitration (CoA). 


Pakistan historically has invoked these mechanisms. For example, the dispute over the Kishanganga Dam saw Pakistan resort to CoA in 2010, which delivered, in 2013, a mixed determination that largely upheld India's position with respect to hydroelectric use but mandated environmental flows. The Kishanganga case also brought to light the role of the World Bank as a procedural anchor, albeit one that moves at a slow pace.


Now, with India invoking national security imperatives, Pakistan’s continued reliance on customary treaty law may prove insufficient. The problem is that India has not withdrawn from the treaty procedurally, nor has there been a formal violation through obstruction of river flow; what India has resorted to is a suspension of cooperation. This "strategic silence" (Kapoor, ORF 2023) may not amount to a clear violation under the treaty itself, thus complicating Pakistan’s standing while adding to its political grievances. 


Having been a co-signatory as well as a broker of the IWT, the World Bank has a lesser facilitative role, significantly constrained by this interpretation of neutrality. The Bank does not compel compliance; it facilitates the process. After the 2016 Uri attacks and the Indian escalation, the Bank suspended both neutral expert and arbitration tracks to forestall "parallel proceedings," a typical example of cautious diplomacy. Post-Pahalgam suspension, however, the World Bank is a mere mute spectator unless it is brought into the case by means of Pakistan’s formal complaint and India’s consent—something that might never happen. 


Even if it were asked to intervene, a World Bank intervention would be procedural rather than prescriptive. As highlighted in the World Bank’s 2023 fact sheet, the Bank’s role lies in nominating experts, facilitating procedures, and preserving the integrity of the treaty dispute resolution process, but not in arbitrating issues of legality or in enforcing compliance.


Thus, while Pakistan may take recourse to the Bank in a bid to uphold treaty norms, the real push depends on whether India will show any interest in re-engagement—something that appears difficult in a climate of growing nationalism.


When the bilateral mechanisms and institutional options fall apart, states tend to take the matter of adjudication to the international setting. At present, the road to the International Court of Justice (ICJ) is full of legal tripwires for Pakistan.


First and foremost, there is the question of jurisdiction. Neither India nor Pakistan has accepted the compulsory jurisdiction of the ICJ under Article 36(2) of the Statute of the ICJ, so that a case must proceed on the consent of both states. Even if jurisdiction is established by means of a special agreement, India may raise objections on procedural or political grounds.


Second, concerning admissibility, Pakistan would have to prove the existence of a legal dispute recognized under international law, rather than a mere political grievance. Thus, Pakistan would have to contend that India's abeyance either constitutes a breach of the IWT or that of customary international law, citing, e.g., VCLT provisions or principles of state responsibility.


Cases such as Nicaragua v. United States (1986) have shown that the ICJ may address violations arising from indirect uses of force and breaches of treaties, but only where attribution and jurisdiction are clear. Equally, the Court in Gabcikovo-Nagymaros (1997) highlighted that necessity must not be self-serving, reaffirming the paramountcy of good faith in treaty relations.


Pakistan might be able to make an appealing moral and political plea; however, the legal aspects hardly afford them fertile grounds to proceed.


Lastly, Pakistan might also seek support via multilateral channels, worldwide and regionally.


According to Chapter VI of the UN Charter, Pakistan could bring the matter before members of the UN Security Council or General Assembly, portraying the IWT as a peace-promoting framework. It may be contended that India's actions threaten international peace and security in an already volatile region owing to nuclear overtones.


But such a recourse comes with problems. UN records on water conflicts are rather patchy, if not poor, while veto politics, especially with India close to Russia and improving its ties with the United States, could thwart any real resolution. Pakistan has trodden this path earlier, albeit rather unsuccessfully. 


Regionally, SAARC or bilateral forums can be employed to raise water as a matter of common strategic concern; political paralysis and lack of interest on India's part do not help. An even more ambitious (but less likely) strategy might involve fostering a coalition of lower riparian states—perhaps drawing some informal solidarity from Bangladesh or Nepal.


Pakistan’s toolbox comprises some legal and diplomatic instruments—albeit none of them with the force for execution. While mechanisms do exist within and outside of the treaty framework, their success depends on India being willing to re-engage and the international appetite to intervene in this bilateral flashpoint.


Hydropolitics and Environmental Implications


In the international arena, water no longer remains a passive current running across borders; it is a strategic asset and a bargaining chip, with its legality increasingly contested. The aftermath of the suspension of the IWT by India cannot be looked at as any isolated episode; it is one of those many intertwined disputes over transboundary waters, where legal ambiguity gives way to geopolitical tensions.

 

India's hydropower plans on the western rivers, particularly the Pakal Dul, Ratle, and Sawalkot, energize the post-suspension IWT phase. The standard IWT would mandate prior information sharing and clearance procedures for these projects. Thus, the suspension of cooperation from one end narrows that field of scrutiny and further gives India the much-needed tactical freedom.


As Kyle Coffey (CSIS, 2023) is quick to point out, this move has its own downside. Even if India technically remains within the limits of the treaty, the do-it-alone approach sans transparency will fuel diplomatic escalation. Pakistan considers these projects as slow-motion violations—drastic changes of river flow that may be defendable in courts but have dramatic ecological repercussions.


Water does not respect political borders. Treaties simply help mitigate adverse consequences. With the removal of this scaffolding, India stands to undermine both environmental accountability and regional confidence in an era where it aspires to prove itself as a regional leader.


India's evolving water diplomacy marks the strategic pivot from treating rivers as shared resources to using them as instruments of influence. This marks a departure from the Nehruvian era of "river neutrality" to the current use of realpolitik with water management integrated within the national security calculus. 


As Nayak (ORF, 2023) notes, one may read the present stance as a "strategic pause"—an intentional reminder to Pakistan that water peace is going to depend on wider bilateral behavior. But this form of hydrological coercion risks setting a dangerous precedent: if states start suspending treaties ad libitum, the very idea of cooperative water regimes is bound to collapse. 


In this increasingly climate-stressed world, weaponization of water only escalates conflicts beyond the capabilities of classical diplomacy to bring de-escalation. Rivers politicized have not been easy to depoliticize again.


The instability precipitated in the IWT is neither just legal nor just political—it is human. Over 300 million people in the two countries are supported by the Indus basin, which is essential for drinking, agriculture, and industry. Thus, any reduction in flow, be it from damming, mismanagement, or diplomatic breakdown, will directly affect the most vulnerable, such as the farmers of Sindh, urban dwellers of Lahore, or villagers along the Chenab in Punjab. 


As Mustafa and Ayesha Ray (Stimson Center, 2024) rightly argue, while the IWT may be archaic, it still stands as one of the few instances of functional environmental cooperation in South Asia. To undermine it is to undercut not just regional peace but also climate resilience. Glaciers are melting, and this heightens the importance of climate-friendly alternatives, as well as limited water availability and erratic monsoons. 


Water treaties are not mere contracts between the states. They are life-sustaining arrangements for societies. When legality begins to crumble, sustainability also suffers. 


The suspension of the Indus Waters Treaty cannot be looked upon as an isolated act of reprisal. States are increasingly vying to treat water as a strategic resource rather than as a shared natural resource.


Suggestions Moving Forward


The IWT was created for an age of state-centric diplomacy and fixed territorial demarcations. In contrast, the 21st-century hydropolitical realm is murkier, with climate change, non-state actors, upstream damming, and regional interdependencies demanding a finer legal toolkit.


What is needed today is not abandonment but augmentation. The future belongs to more resilient and flexible treaty structures incorporating some form of dispute resolution mechanism, environmental binding obligations, and human rights protection. Treaties should be a living instrument, responding to emerging threats and reflecting a shared ecological life.


This request is not utopian. The UN Watercourses Convention (1997) and the Berlin Rules on Water Resources (2004) already furnish a legal view of governing water resources equitably, sustainably, and participatively. These frameworks stress equitable resource allocation, reasonable use, no significant harm, and public participation—strong principles that were largely left unexplored under the original IWT framework.

 

While the IWT is generally recognized for being resilient, it is a Cold War era diplomatic treaty based on bilateralism and technocratic division rather than on ethical or ecological principles that mark today’s international water law. 


The 1997 UN Convention on the Law of the Non-Navigational Uses of International Watercourses, by contrast, shifts the focus to equitable and reasonable use, no significant harm, and prior notification of planned measures. Downstream and upstream states have equitable rights to negotiate use, while sharing environmental protection. Moving away from mere division of water, these principles have evolved into integrated river basin management.


Further, there is also the Berlin Rules on Water Resources (2004), which establish customary international legal principles that recognize the rights of individuals and communities to access water, ensure environmental integrity, and foster public participation in decision-making processes. In contrast, the IWT does not contemplate climate change, groundwater use, or indigenous rights. The Berlin Rules see water as being both a shared resource and a shared responsibility.


The absence of such modern legal principles in the IWT regime has indeed limited its flexibility to address new and complex challenges such as glacial melt, environmental degradation, and extreme hydro-climatic incidents. As calls for IWT reform gain momentum, these frameworks could inform a progressive reinterpretation or supplementary protocol.


Regarding preventing disputes and channelling transparency of data, regional water governance agencies, perhaps under the aegis of SAARC and in collaboration with international bodies such as the World Bank and UNEP, hold great promise. The Kishanganga arbitration (2013) is an example; it showed that third-party adjudication can take root when parties invest in procedural legitimacy.


Finally, the intersection of environmental law and human rights law remains promising and untapped. Water is not simply a strategic resource; it is a human right and an ecological necessity. Hence, all future water treaties must acknowledge this dual nature. A greater exposure of legal regimes to climate resilience, indigenous water claims, and ecological integrity will grant them political immunity and further make them socially legitimate and future-ready.


The Indus does not care for politics. It flows—dismissing borders, terror, treaties, or nationalism. Yet how we allow its flow to be managed —lawfully, diplomatically, and reasonably— has consequences for the lives of millions and peace in the region. 


With the sharp deepening of water scarcity and with the acceleration of climate crises, an equally important trait of treaties will be resilience, along with their mere existence. The Indus Waters Treaty, once a proud symbol of legal toughness, now finds itself hanging in the most fragile balance. 


At the end of the day, that's what the proposition is: Choosing between treaties as instruments for oppression versus treaties as instruments for peace. Between the illusion of security and the reality of shared vulnerability.




Edited by Ananya Karthikeyan


Eshal (she/her) is a student of law at the National Law University Odisha, and Senior Copyeditor at Political Pandora.



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Keywords: Indus Waters Treaty, India-Pakistan Dispute, Treaty Suspension, International Law, Vienna Convention on the Law of Treaties, Transboundary Water Conflict, Hydropolitics South Asia, Terrorism, India Water Strategy, Pakistan Legal Options, International Court of Justice, World Bank, Regional Stability South Asia, Shared River Governance, Water as Geopolitical Tool, Future of Water Treaties.

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