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Last February, Bangladesh saw protests over a long-standing dispute with India over the exploitation of water from the Teesta River, a dispute concerning the fair share of the waters of this transboundary river. Bangladesh, seeking a greater share than it currently receives, is pushing for the realisation of a billion-dollar project—one that is unlikely to lack support from China—to secure its water needs.
This case underscores the crisis of multilateralism and the difficulty of enforcing international water law in a way that addresses emerging global challenges, including climate change—dynamics that could also play out in other regions, including Europe.
We spoke about this with Filippo Menga, professor of Geography at the University of Bergamo and visiting research fellow at the University of Reading (UK). Menga is the author of Sete (Ponte alle Grazie, 2024) and Power and Water in Central Asia (Routledge, 2018) and, since 2024, has served as editor of the journal Political Geography.
The conflict between India and Bangladesh over the management of water resources has been going on for about forty years. The two countries share 54 rivers, originating in India and flowing into Bangladesh, giving India a strategic advantage in controlling their flow. Although there has been no total blockade, relations remain tense. Yet, in terms of international law, there is the 1992 UN Convention on the Protection and Use of Transboundary Watercourses, but neither India nor Bangladesh has signed it. How come?
This reflects a bilateral approach, typical of major powers, which favour direct negotiations over committing to multilateral treaties. In a negotiation between India and Bangladesh over the Teesta or the Ganges, India holds the greater influence, leveraging water resources as a strategic tool in broader negotiations that can include topics like migration, border control, energy cooperation, and security. Moreover, there is often a preference for periodic renegotiation rather than committing to a definitive treaty. In the case of the Teesta, India has historically utilised most of its water resources. The river is home to at least 20 large dams and hydropower plants, most of which are situated on Indian territory, despite the river’s course being divided roughly two-thirds in India and one-third in Bangladesh. In recent years, however, a project—known by various names, including the “Teesta River Project”—has emerged. Its stated aim is to restore some of the lost biodiversity along the Bangladeshi stretch of the river and improve reservoir management. However, the plan also includes new hydroelectric projects. Indian diplomats argue that Bangladesh has shown little gratitude for the 30 years of aid it has received, while the Bangladeshi side emphasises its desire for greater independence.
A similar phenomenon occurred with the Nile, especially in the dynamics between Ethiopia and Egypt. Even though today they have been completed, for a long time Egypt hindered the construction of large infrastructures by Ethiopia.
Yes, although one element that has added complexity to the Teesta River case is the involvement of China. Both China and India are the two largest dam builders in the world and have led the boom in hydroelectric power since 2010.
So, this is not merely a dispute over dams but also a regional rivalry between Asia’s two great powers? What is shifting?
India, which had long operated without external interference from China, now feels their presence, as Beijing is involved in strategic projects across the region. The Chinese can make vast investments, but this presents Bangladesh with a difficult choice. On the one hand, accepting Chinese investment risks alienating India, which views Beijing’s growing influence in the area with suspicion. On the other hand, if Bangladesh aligns too closely with India, it ends up once again depending on those who have historically stifled it. This tension has sparked significant domestic protests, leaving Bangladesh in a delicate position, particularly given recent political shifts in the country. It is nearly becoming a stage for the wider rivalry between China and India. It is clear that international law, particularly water law, is facing new challenges, including climate change, and unilateral solutions tend to become prevalent. At a time when international disputes often seem to follow a “free-for-all” approach, it will be increasingly crucial to enforce the rules of international law.
However, the crux of the matter remains the same: how can international law meaningfully influence water policies when there are no effective mechanisms to enforce compliance with treaties?
In an international scenario where global powers appear to be rewriting the rules—Trump’s unilateral approach to geopolitics being a case in point—national sovereignty is being put to the test. Countries such as Brazil, with Bolsonaro’s policies on the Amazon rainforest, have challenged the idea that natural resources, whether water or forests, belong to all of humanity. The consequence of such policies may be the gradual erosion of international norms in favour of greater autonomy for individual states. Yet, while this approach may offer the illusion of sovereign control, it collides with the reality of an interconnected and complex global landscape. Still, even in the absence of direct enforcement instruments, international law exerts an indirect pressure force. It shapes global discourse, lends legitimacy to the claims of disadvantaged states and communities—like those in transboundary conflicts over rivers such as the Nile or Mekong—and provides a shared framework for cooperation. Moreover, growing economic and environmental interdependence, from the reliance of global supply chains on water to the consequences of climate change, makes state isolationism less and less viable. The illusion of absolute sovereign control, as pursued by some powers, collides with the reality of an interconnected world, where water crises transcend national borders. The true strength of international law, therefore, lies not in coercion but in its power to incentivise. Through diplomatic pressure, indirect economic sanctions—whether imposed by trade blocs or international investors—and the mobilisation of global public opinion, it can push states to comply, even in the absence of strong enforcement instruments.
As we continue to circle our "water planet", what are some other hot spots?
Disputes over rivers are widespread. A prime example is the Mekong, where Laos’s controversial Xayaburi dam—backed by Chinese interests—threatens downstream ecosystems and communities in Vietnam and Cambodia, triggering international outcry. Similarly, Turkey’s vast Anatolia Project, with its network of dams on the Tigris and Euphrates, has severely reduced water flow to Iraq and Syria, exacerbating internal crises such as drought and favouring infrastructure at the expense of its neighbours. The previously mentioned conflict over the Nile between Ethiopia, Egypt, and Sudan remains a critical issue, with the GERD dam redefining the balance of power in the region. In Central America, the Colorado River is being disputed between the United States and Mexico, where American factories and large-scale agriculture along the border disrupt the flow, impoverishing the ecosystem of the Mexican delta, once rich in biodiversity. The Middle East presents another significant case: the Jordan River, where Israel exerts significant control over water resources, limiting access for the Palestinian territories, Jordan, and, to a lesser extent, Lebanon—in a context of already explosive political tensions. To these can be added underground aquifers, such as the Guaraní Aquifer, shared by Uruguay, Argentina, Brazil, and Paraguay—a strategic resource that has attracted international investment and research, but which risks giving rise to conflicts similar to those over oil, due to the growing competition for drinkable water.
Professor, given the times we live in, one final question seems inevitable. Could the situation in Europe also change?
Historically, Europe has set a good example of cooperating on major rivers such as the Rhine and the Danube, which flow through some of the continent’s most industrialised regions. These rivers serve multiple purposes—recreational, industrial, agricultural, and hydroelectric—and the shared management of these waterways has helped avert crises. International collaboration has been essential in these areas, with European nations recognising that safeguarding rivers is in everyone’s interest, not least to preserve economic exchange and political stability. For example, the Danube, which runs through around ten countries, including Ukraine, Hungary, and Romania, is now threatened by internal political tensions. Compared to a decade ago, the situation has changed. Internal political tensions, such as the growing sovereignism in Hungary under Orbán, call into question the reliability of some actors in shared management. Budapest, for example, may prioritise national interests over regional commitments, complicating cooperation. Similarly, the Rhine, which links Switzerland, Germany, France, and the Netherlands, is not immune to risks. Climate change, with increasingly frequent droughts, is reducing water levels, which could prompt countries to reassess agreements through a more competitive lens. Despite cooperation has characterised river management in Europe, recent political developments in certain states are raising questions about how this dynamic might evolve. I often use the example of a football match to illustrate the point: if you don't notice, it means that the referee is doing his job well. But when a problem arises, as is the case with water, then everyone notices the conflict. While Europe has managed transboundary waters cooperatively for decades, the situation is now becoming more complex, even in areas that once seemed stable.
Cover: Teesta river