For the first time in history, India has been accused of weaponizing climate change—not with bombs or missiles, but through silence, data withholding, and river manipulation.
In the catastrophic floods of 2025, when Pakistan was submerged, India allegedly withheld critical hydrological data on the Chenab, Ravi, and Sutlej rivers, amplifying destruction downstream. It was not an accident. It was, as many believe, a deliberate act of using climate change as a “threat multiplier”—a weapon that exacerbates insecurity, worsens mistrust, and multiplies human suffering.
This was not only a humanitarian catastrophe but also the unravelling of the Indus Waters Treaty (IWT)—a treaty hailed for decades as a rare success in transboundary water management. What happened in 2025 marked not just the drowning of villages and cities, but the drowning of trust, law, and the last fragile thread holding two nuclear rivals together.
The IWT, signed in 1960 under the auspices of the World Bank, divided the six rivers of the Indus basin. India received rights over the eastern rivers—the Ravi, Beas, and Sutlej—while Pakistan retained rights to the western rivers—the Indus, Jhelum, and Chenab. Crucially, Article VI mandated the regular exchange of hydrological and meteorological data on river flows, reservoir operations, and canal withdrawals. Transparency was its backbone, preventing suspicion and ensuring accountability.
After the devastating super flood of 1988, both states agreed to expand data sharing. By 1989, they instituted a near-hourly protocol during monsoon months, from July 10 to October 1, covering three critical Indian dams: the Ranjit Sagar Dam (Ravi), the Bhakra Dam (Sutlej), and the Pong Dam (Beas). Thanks to Syed Jamat Ali Shah, former Indus Water Commissioner. For years, this fragile bridge of cooperation saved lives. But in 2025, that bridge collapsed when silence replaced transparency.
As Pakistan looked to the Treaty for protection, a grave Himalayan blunder had already been set in motion. Inside Ladakh, Indian-administered Kashmir, and Himachal Pradesh, India expanded massive infrastructure, primarily for the Indian armed forces.
Glaciers were disturbed, conifer forests cleared, and river systems disrupted. These anti-anthropological land-use changes worsened climate change impacts in the upper Indus basin, destabilizing seasonal water flows and intensifying downstream flood risks. Yet, Pakistan’s own institutions and so-called climate advocates failed to confront this transformation. Instead, many echoed India’s narrative that the Treaty itself must be renegotiated in the name of climate change.
This narrative was not India’s alone. The campaign to weaken the IWT was seeded within Pakistan. In 2013, a retired diplomat heading an NGO and a quack expert began lobbying globally for Treaty revision. He spoke at five-star hotel seminars, published glossy reports, and used eloquent English speeches to sell the case.
But behind the façade of sophistication lay what critics describe as actors of economic espionage—individuals who had neither scientific knowledge nor engineering training, yet positioned themselves as “climate experts.” Their rhetoric conveniently aligned with India’s future demands.
By January 4, 2022, India’s Ministry of Jal Shakti announced to Parliament that the Treaty must be renegotiated to address climate change impacts. By January 2023, India formally served renegotiation notices to Pakistan. When Pakistan failed to respond, India used this silence as justification for what came next.
On April 23, 2025, India declared that the Indus Waters Treaty was “in abeyance.” The justification was threefold: a terrorist attack in Illegally Indian-occupied Jammu and Kashmir, Pakistan’s alleged failure to respond to 2023 renegotiation notices, and the urgency of addressing climate change challenges. Yet the law was clear: the IWT contains no provision for unilateral suspension. Article XII of the Treaty explicitly requires that any amendment or termination be ratified by both parties. The Vienna Convention on the Law of Treaties (1969) reinforces the same principle—bilateral treaties cannot be revoked unilaterally.
In August 2025, the International Court of Arbitration (ICA), under the Permanent Court of Arbitration (PCA), ruled that the Treaty remains binding. The tribunal invoked the principle of pacta sunt servanda—agreements must be kept. During the flood crisis, the minister of the Planning Commission alleged that India had manipulated dam operations on the Chenab, Ravi, and Sutlej to worsen flooding. These suspicions could be tested against the records of the Bhakra Beas Management Board (BBMB), which operates the Bhakra and Pong dams, and the Punjab State Power Corporation Limited (PSPCL), which controls the Ranjit Sagar Dam. But even without manipulation, the silence was itself a crime.
India possesses some of the world’s most advanced monitoring systems. Through ISRO satellites, the Space Applications Centre (SAC), and hydrological models, India can track glaciers, snowmelt, and river flows in real time. Yet, in the flood of 2025, none of this critical information was shared with Pakistan. Had the data been exchanged, countless lives could have been spared and billions in damages minimized. Instead, truth was withheld, and a nation drowned in silence.
The betrayal deepens when viewed through the prism of climate finance. In 2005, India began construction of the Chutak and Nimoo-Bazgo Hydroelectric Projects in Ladakh. Pakistan objected, citing their impact on the Indus system. Under Clause 37(b) of the UNFCCC, India was obligated to seek Pakistan’s approval before applying for carbon credits. Yet in 2008, the Clean Development Mechanism (CDM) approved both projects. India had applied in 2006, by the connivance of a representative of Pakistan at UNFCCC, so the credits flowed.
No Environmental Impact Assessment (EIA) was ratified by Pakistan. No Transboundary Environmental Impact Report (TEIR) was acknowledged. Yet the CDM Executive Board stamped approvals, allowing India to earn carbon credits while Pakistan bore the environmental costs. Today, India continues to claim carbon credits for multiple projects across the Indus, Chenab, and Jhelum.
The betrayal stings further because the truth was raised long ago. One of us, Engineer Arshad H. Abbasi, filed objections more than 15 years ago, warning Pakistan that negligence was enabling India’s manipulation of international climate mechanisms. His warnings, however, were buried by the powerful mafia of pseudo-experts who monopolised Pakistan’s water and climate policy. Yet the most tragic part of history is that he was brutally tortured—not for treachery, not for crime, but for his expert opinion and truth. Those who failed the nation then remain in advisory roles today, still shaping strategy with the same recklessness.
The most painful betrayal came not from India, but from Pakistan’s own custodians. The institutions tasked with protecting water, food, and energy security allowed themselves to be deceived by polished accents, three-piece suits, and Charles Dickens rhetoric. They mistook style for substance, mistook sycophancy for scholarship. These pseudo-climate experts had no grounding in engineering or science, yet they dictated the course of national water and climate policy. Their negligence weakened Pakistan’s defences, while India weaponised silence and climate narratives.
Meanwhile, the ordinary citizen of Pakistan pays the ultimate price. A single tweet critical of the government can lead to prosecution under the PECA Act. Yet those who committed the gravest act of negligence—weakening Pakistan’s most vital treaty, ignoring warnings, and enabling economic espionage—remain untouchable. They are neither prosecuted nor silenced; instead, they continue to enjoy influence and privilege.
The narrative is tragically clear. India withheld data and possibly manipulated rivers. Pseudo-experts inside Pakistan echoed India’s demands. The Indus Waters Treaty was suspended unlawfully. International justice came too late. The elite escaped accountability while ordinary Pakistanis drowned.
This is not only a story about rivers. It is a story of betrayal—betrayal of treaties, of law, of science, of trust, and of the very survival of a nation. It is a lament written not in ink, but in water and silence.
In the grief of the 2025 floods, the words of Anacharsis, the Scythian philosopher, seem prophetic: “Laws are like spiders’ webs: they catch the smaller flies, but the big ones tear through them”. For Pakistan, the rivers now whisper the same story: the weak drown, the powerful escape, and justice itself is washed away.
Copyright Business Recorder, 2025
The writer, an Advocate Supreme Court, Adjunct Faculty at Lahore University of Management Sciences (LUMS), member Advisory Board and Visiting Senior Fellow of Pakistan Institute of Development Economics (PIDE), holds LLD in tax laws
The writer is water and climate change expert, is co-founder of Energy Excellence Centres at NUST and UET Peshawar