ass protests are being organised across Sindh against the federal government’s plan to construct six new canals under the Green Pakistan Initiative, aimed at transforming barren land into fertile farms.
While the government has framed the project in terms of modernisation of agriculture and economic uplift, many in Sindh see this is yet another chapter in a long and painful history of resource extraction and regional marginalisation. The canal project has revived historical grievances and caused a widespread outcry—not just because of water concerns, but because it reflects patterns of inequity rooted in the colonial era.
To understand the political resistance to the project, one must turn to historian Imran Ali’s pivotal work, Punjab Under Imperialism. Ali describes how, under British colonial rule, massive irrigation and settlement projects turned central and western Punjab into a thriving agricultural hub. Canal colonies were engineered through extensive control of the rivers, land allotment to loyalists and forced resettlement, all designed to serve imperial economic interests.
The development disproportionately benefited the Punjab. The colonial state’s centralised control over water, allowed it to channel resources into favoured zones, creating a structural imbalance that persists to this day.
However, most people in Sindh remain unconvinced. They worry that the Indus Basin Waters System is already overburdened and fragile. Water availability in many regions has declined way short of demand and the Indus delta—a once-thriving ecosystem—is collapsing due to reduced downstream flow.
Ali’s analysis frames this as not just a policy dispute but a fundamental question of justice. Agricultural expansion in the Punjab is seen coming at the cost of downstream Sindh. It is justified by promises of national prosperity. But who gets to define prosperity? And who bears the cost?
As in colonial times, the state is seen centralising control of water without meaningful consultation through the Council of Common Interests—the constitutional body tasked with resolving interprovincial matters. Before proceeding further, let’s set the debate in the colonial context.
During the British colonial rule, the people of South Punjab had long hoped for a canal system similar to those built in the upper Punjab. The first proposal for such a canal—from Mari to irrigate the Indus-Jhelum Doab—dates back to 1873. For decades, no progress was made on the proposal. In 1901, the Sindh Sagar Colonisation Act granted the Punjab rights to nearly 1.9 million acres in Bhakkar and Layyah in exchange for promises of irrigation. However, due to resistance from lower riparian regions and the indifference of the central government, these lands remained dry for another generation.
A 1919 proposal to irrigate the Doab through a major canal also fell through. The British government approved the Sukkur Barrage in Sindh in 1923. The Punjab protested this decision, arguing for its own water needs.
In 1924, the Punjab government proposed three alternatives—Lesser Thal, Larger Thal and a full Doab irrigation plan. However, the British prioritised the Sukkur Barrage. Even the modest Lesser Thal Project, submitted in 1925 with a proposed canal of 6,750 cusecs capacity, was not built. The government of (British) India refused to recommend it for approval until the Sukkur project was completed and became operational.
This led to a prolonged dispute involving multiple colonial administrations. Ultimately, in 1929, the Indus Discharge Committee ruled against allocating water for Thal, recommending another decade of delay. The cumulative failures to secure water left South Punjab farmers disillusioned, reinforcing a sense of neglect by Lahore-based authorities. The Sindh Sagar Doab Colonization Act was finally repealed that same year, marking the end of the unfulfilled promise.
The Punjab government never entirely abandoned the idea of a Thal Canal. An opportunity emerged in 1935 during the proceedings of the Anderson Water Distribution Committee. The committee permitted the Punjab to move forward with the canal’s construction, allowing a withdrawal of 6,000 cusecs, with specific seasonal limits: 2,000 cusecs in December and January, 3,600 in February and March, and 5,600 in November. The Thal Canal was completed in 1947. It aimed to irrigate 1.6 million acres of land along the Kundian–Khushab and Kundian–Shershah railway corridors.
The long-delayed realisation of the Thal Canal—over 70 years in the making—underscores that even the upper riparian regions like the Punjab have historically faced challenges and frustrations over water distribution. However, when it comes to the construction of the Greater Thal Canal, there is a perception in Sindh that the project enables the Punjab to draw more water from the Indus River than its rightful share. This perception continues to fuel interprovincial mistrust and controversy over equitable water access.
The political fallout has been huge. On March 4, the Human Rights Commission of Pakistan condemned the use of force against students protesting in Jamshoro. Earlier, Zulfikar Ali Bhutto Jr, the late Zulfiqar Ali Bhutto’s grandson, leading the Bulhan Bachao movement, joined farmers and civil society in a sit-in at Sukkur. Though the Pakistan Peoples Party (PPP) leadership has voiced opposition, it has been hesitant to directly confront the current government and the establishment.
Beyond politics, the economic logic of the Cholistan project is contested. It has been argued that the romanticism of turning deserts green ignores the ecological realities. Water availability in Pakistan has plummeted from over 5,000 cubic meters per capita in 1947 to under 1,000 today. In Sindh, the figure is even lower. Climate change, glacial melt and outdated irrigation systems have all contributed to the crisis. Diverting even a small amount of water to new projects risks exacerbating poverty and displacing communities in marginal areas.
There are also concerns that altering the natural flow of the Indus threatens the already endangered ecosystems. Some environmentalists have warned that a minimum of 5,000 cusecs must flow downstream to protect the Indus Delta. Without the minimum flow, the region risks accelerated erosion and loss of critical wetlands. For its part, Cholistan might soon suffer from salinity, waterlogging and ecological decline—turning a dream of abundance into a long-term liability.
What makes this project particularly dangerous is that it reinforces the perception of extractive federalism: a development model that benefits one region at the cost of anothers. Rather than fostering national unity through shared growth, the Cholistan canal can deepen interprovincial divide and perpetuate a hierarchy of entitlement.
A fair and sustainable water policy must be built on ecological realities. It must also take into account historical grievances, empower all provinces and be guided by inclusive federal mechanisms like the CCI. Technologies like drip irrigation, canal rehabilitation and data-driven water governance can help, but only if implemented with equity not expansion, as the guiding principle.
The agitation over Cholistan canal project is not simply about irrigation—it’s also about what kind of federation Pakistan is to be. The answer lies not just in policy documents but also in the canals we choose to buildand the histories we choose to remember.
The writer is a professor in the Faculty of Liberal Arts at the Beaconhouse National University, Lahore.
