By Sannat Odhrani
Top scientists recently announced that collective failures to limit greenhouse gas emissions have led to the planet reaching its first ‘tipping point,’ with coral reefs facing ongoing and widespread extinction by way of carbon dioxide bleaching. The devastation caused by Hurricane Melissa across the Caribbean is but the latest demonstration in worsening extreme weather events and the role they play in threatening already vulnerable populations and robbing their means of survival. In the Mediterranean too, climate change threatens olive oil production and contributes to rising food insecurity. Clearly, the impacts of climate change are more far-reaching than ever, with every aspect of life on our planet touched by the phenomenon.
Iran’s water crisis is one example of the wider pressures created by climate change, intensified by Western sanctions and regional instability. At first glance, it may seem simply another case of global environmental stress and international inaction. Yet closer examination suggests these factors are only part of the story, with long-standing structural and political shortcomings having played a significant role. Many of Iran’s 19 major reservoirs – vital for supplying cities and powering hydroelectric stations – have fallen to critical levels or dried up entirely, prompting government appeals for reduced consumption and triggering frequent power cuts.
Iran has faced a series of droughts over the past decade, which can be partially attributed to the worsening climate crisis. Already located in one of the world’s driest regions, its water insecurity has only been exacerbated by rising global temperatures. Nevertheless, the sheer scale of the problems faced by the Middle Eastern giant has been largely driven by ‘human factors.’ State mismanagement is perhaps the most glaring of an amalgamation of factors contributing to Iran’s resource insecurities, ranging from the failures of urban infrastructure to keep pace with rapid population growth, to water overuse in Iran’s agricultural sector, and overconfidence in damming and desalination as prodigal ‘magic bullets’ against drought.
Any discussion of Iran’s water crisis cannot be conducted without discussion of its political structure. A general lack of government transparency until such a critical stage – somewhat broken by a July 31 acknowledgement by Iran’s president Pezeshkian – doesn’t bode well for the prospect of effective political coordination in resolving the crisis. According to Reuters, Pezeshkian stated “In Tehran, if we cannot manage and people do not cooperate in controlling consumption, there won’t be any water in [the] dams by September or October.” On November 2, Iran’s IRNA news agency reported that The Amir Kabir Dam’s reservoir supplying Tehran had fallen to just eight percent capacity, with water firm director Behzad Parsa warning that stocks would run dry in two weeks’ time. While dams may not have run dry as of the president’s stated deadline, it would suggest that water supply is in constant decline with no signs of improvement. It appears the state is merely playing a waiting game with no concrete solution.
The fact that Pezeshkian has considered relocating Iran’s capital is indicative of its particular vulnerability, which had arguably been overshadowed by regional conflict as of late. Pezeshkian, 69, came to power in a July 2024 election, following the death of his predecessor Ebrahim Raisi in a helicopter crash two months prior. Raisi’s death came at a time of widespread domestic frustration and rising instability, largely driven by state-enforced internet restrictions and the Islamic Republic’s mandatory hijab laws. The president’s initial promises to address domestic issues have since been largely overshadowed by foreign policy concerns, namely its long-running limited war with Israel and the ousting of ally Bashir al-Assad in Syria, both of which have proved major blows to regional Iranian influence. In a further setback, Tehran expressed dissatisfaction with Afghanistan’s Taliban administration on January 8, 2025, in its apparent failure to deliver on official water agreements. The dispute only spells further concern for the Pezeshkian administration finding a viable solution to the ongoing drought.
Without government reform or accountability from Iran’s ruling elite for their action – or inaction – regarding the ongoing water emergency, the state may have little hope of addressing it and a host of other domestic issues. However, the regime’s harsh response to nation-wide protests in 2022, sparked by the death of Mahsa Amini, is emblematic of its consistent unwillingness to open up to potential domestic criticism.
Mahsa Amini was a Kurdish-Iranian woman who died in police custody in 2022 after she was arrested for allegedly violating the state’s mandatory hijab laws. According to UN human rights experts, evidence suggests that Amini died as a result of physical violence she suffered at the hands of the security services. Following her death, protests erupted across Iran, during which scores of women openly removed their hijabs and cut their hair in public, in a show of solidarity. The government responded with a major crackdown on press freedom and the use of – often lethal – force against protestors in attempts to stabilise the situation. As of late 2025, however, reports suggest that the protests have shifted Iran’s social climate to the extent that modesty laws once taken for granted are no longer enforced in as strict a manner. Such a fundamental disconnect between the laws of the state, de jure and de facto, may be indicative of the regime’s declining internal legitimacy; set in motion by the 2022 protests. What remains to be seen, however, is how current concerns over water scarcity might prove to exacerbate the already tense situation.
To address the drought, some have championed the establishment of an independent water authority that would ensure equitable distribution, free from the structural inefficiencies that are said to plague Iran’s state institutions. Others have pushed for investment in ambitious infrastructure projects, including the resumption of a planned water transfer and desalination from the Caspian Sea, shelved in 2013. All things considered, is there a practical way ahead for Tehran? To answer this question, it’s important to recognise that Iran is facing a convergence of crises – to include the ongoing water emergency. Years of Western sanctions have put significant pressure on the country’s economy and helped push it, perhaps irreconcilably, outside the US-led international order and towards the likes of Russia, China, and other historically marginalised states seeking more equitable alternatives to the dominant, Western-centric intergovernmental bodies.
The BRICS+ trade bloc is one such alternative. Founded in 2006 by Brazil, Russia, India and China, with South Africa joining in 2010, ‘BRICS’ expanded its membership to include Ethiopia, Iran, and others in early 2024. While the long-term impacts of Iran’s BRICS+ membership remain to be seen, its economy stands to benefit greatly from the sanction-free trade opportunities now available with fellow member states. However, the extent to which the bloc can help Iran’s water insecurity – an increasingly scarce resource worldwide – remains doubtful.
With multiple overlapping economic and resource crises providing potential flash points for popular unrest, it is undeniable that Iran faces a herculean task ahead. Adequately managing the water crisis itself will likely require real reform and transparency from Pezeshkian’s government, while it attempts to ‘keep face’ and regain some semblance of normalcy at home and abroad. Without making drastic, systemic changes to how the state uses and organises its resources, Iran will likely struggle to lift the Iranian people out of the dire straits in which they find themselves and avoid further insurrection. But with an already frustrated population facing but the latest in a seemingly infinite succession of hardships, the country and its ruling elite may have already passed a point of no return.
The views expressed in this article are the author’s own, and may not reflect the opinions of The St Andrews Economist.