Water Poverty, Environmental Justice, and Responsibility in the Future of Iran

Nik Kowsar

Water poverty is not merely the absence of water—it is the structural deprivation of equitable, sustainable, and safe access to a vital resource that underpins life, health, livelihoods, and human dignity. In Iran, this crisis is not solely the result of climate change or prolonged drought. It is deeply rooted in decades of flawed governance, institutionalized corruption, and systemic inequality.

Understanding the Multilayered Nature of Water Poverty

Water poverty is not simply the absence of water. In many parts of Iran, water is physically present, yet communities lack reliable access, face unaffordable costs, or are forced to rely on low-quality and polluted supplies. Infrastructure is often outdated, insufficient, or entirely absent. A more accurate assessment of this crisis requires examining the five dimensions of the Water Poverty Index: resource availability, access, management capacity, usage patterns, and environmental integrity. However, persistent gaps in accurate and transparent data, fragile monitoring systems, and the absence of independent oversight have resulted in water sector decision-making occurring in near-total opacity. Where information poverty and knowledge poverty dominate water governance, efforts to alleviate water poverty are destined to fail.

Water Poverty Means Injustice

In regions such as Izeh and Dehdez, communities live in the shadow of massive dams yet remain deprived of clean and reliable water. This stark contradiction is emblematic of environmental injustice. Top-down decision-making—executed without the meaningful participation of local communities—not only fails to address real needs but actively reproduces cycles of deprivation. While powerful actors benefit from rent-seeking opportunities and privileged access to alternative resources, ordinary citizens bear the brunt of the crisis through deepening poverty, rising unemployment, and forced migration.

From Awareness to Action

Correcting unsustainable water consumption patterns requires more than just public education campaigns or awareness-raising initiatives. While these are necessary first steps, they are insufficient on their own to shift behaviors that have become deeply embedded in cultural, economic, and political systems. Real change demands active and sustained public participation, supported by a culture of transparency, accountability, and trust between citizens and institutions.

One of the most effective ways to operationalize this participation is through the establishment of local, community-based institutions—such as water user associations, cooperatives, and basin councils—that empower residents to co-manage their resources. These organizations can foster collective responsibility, facilitate dialogue among stakeholders, and ensure that decisions reflect local priorities and conditions. Importantly, they can also serve as a counterbalance to centralized bureaucracies, offering a degree of resilience in times of political instability or administrative failure.

Equally vital is the integration of indigenous knowledge and traditional practices into water resource planning and management. Many local communities possess generations of experiential wisdom on water conservation, irrigation efficiency, and ecological stewardship—knowledge that is often overlooked or dismissed by formal institutions. Recognizing and elevating this knowledge not only strengthens local ownership, but also enriches the policy toolbox with practical, place-based solutions.

However, meaningful participation cannot be symbolic or tokenistic. It requires that communities have genuine power to influence outcomes, not merely a passive role in receiving and executing directives imposed from above. This means institutionalizing mechanisms for shared decision-making, enabling access to information and technical expertise, and ensuring that marginalized voices—particularly women, farmers, and indigenous groups—are included in all stages of planning and implementation.

Without this shift in governance—from vertical, technocratic control to horizontal, inclusive engagement—efforts to reform water consumption will remain superficial. Only when people are treated not as recipients of policy but as co-creators of sustainable futures can water poverty be meaningfully reduced and long-term resilience achieved.

The Role of Media and Narrative

Free and responsible media—both within and outside the country—can play a transformative role in shaping public understanding and mobilizing informed action. Through human-centered storytelling, exposure of corruption, and presentation of effective solutions, media can convert water poverty from a distant statistic into an urgent and relatable concern. Documentary filmmakers and podcasters, in particular, have the power to make the crisis tangible and inspire civic engagement by turning data into lived experience.

The Transition Period: An Opportunity to Rebuild Justice

Water poverty must be addressed not as a narrow technical problem, but as a profound crisis of justice. The political transition period presents a critical window to redefine water governance. This shift must move from centralized control to participatory mechanisms, from rent-seeking practices to transparency, and from superficial reforms to accountable institutions.

Key priorities include the establishment of independent regulatory bodies, a comprehensive revision of the water allocation system, livelihood incentives for farmers to encourage sustainable practices, and the modernization of governance frameworks. No durable reform will succeed unless it ensures universal, equitable access to safe water. Water is not a commodity, nor a tool of power—it is a fundamental human right. A just and sustainable society cannot be built on the deprivation of this right.

Water, Inequality, and Marginalized Communities:A Test of Justice in Times of Change

In discussions of political transition, the focus often gravitates toward changes in governance, security, and urban-rural dynamics. Yet the fate of marginalized communities—those who are politically, economically, and socially vulnerable—remains dangerously underexamined. These populations frequently bear the heaviest burdens of environmental and structural change, while being excluded from its benefits.

One of the most pressing issues for marginalized areas is access to clean and sufficient water. During times of political transition, the risk of further sidelining these communities increases, as policymakers often prioritize institutional overhaul over the basic rights of those least visible.

Many of these individuals once lived in relative prosperity. For instance, after the construction of the Karun-3 dam, residents who had farmed along the Karun River were displaced, losing their homes and land. Today, many of them live on the fringes of places like Dehdez—without property, employment, or a clear future. What was once their home has become an exile. Addressing the injustices faced by these communities will be the true measure of whether a transition leads to meaningful change.

Water as a Right: A Measure of Justice

Water is not merely a biological necessity; it is a fundamental human right. The inability—or, more accurately, the unwillingness—of governing bodies to provide safe and equitable access to water for marginalized communities is a direct violation of this right. In Iran, many impoverished and displaced populations live in areas with no access to water supply or sanitation infrastructure. Even when water is technically available, the absence of legal housing documents prevents residents from being officially recognized, making them invisible to service providers.

Without accurate data on population, water quality, and needs, how can any meaningful planning occur? In many of these regions, residents are forced to purchase water from mobile tankers or unregulated vendors—sources that are not only costly but also often unsafe. Government institutions, especially the Ministry of Energy and affiliated urban agencies, maintain a rigid top-down perspective and often avoid direct engagement with these communities. This bureaucratic detachment is both a moral failure and a policy disaster.

Structural Injustice and Systemic Corruption

Water poverty in Iran is not simply the result of natural scarcity—it is the outcome of structural injustice, systemic corruption, and misguided priorities. Limited resources are too often funneled into expensive, high-visibility infrastructure projects that serve political or economic elites, rather than addressing the basic needs of vulnerable populations. The result: showpiece dams and failed interbasin transfers are prioritized over clean water and sewage systems for human beings.

This same top-down model has reduced the life-and-death needs of marginalized communities to mere "security issues," to be policed rather than solved. Many of these same communities—already displaced by dam construction or interbasin water transfers—are now further victimized by water mafias and profiteering networks. The state’s failure to provide basic services like drinking water, sanitation, and waste management has only widened social divides, increased the risk of disease, and fueled distrust, resentment, and unrest.

The Transition Period: A Test of Justice, Participation, and Empowerment

In any political transition, environmental justice must be at the center of institutional reconstruction. If equality in access to vital resources—especially water—is not guaranteed in the foundational phases of a new political order, then injustice will be rebuilt under a new name.

The International Covenant on Economic, Social and Cultural Rights clearly affirms access to clean water and sanitation as a fundamental human right. Any discrimination in its provision constitutes a violation of this covenant. Therefore, the first duty of an interim government should be the official recognition of marginalized communities and the rapid implementation of emergency plans to provide clean water, sanitation, and wastewater treatment.

These plans must not replicate the top-down errors of the past. They must include direct public participation, with oversight by independent civil institutions. Participation becomes meaningful only when people have real power—when they can co-create solutions, not just listen to imposed policies. Local empowerment through education, low-cost technologies (such as decentralized gray-water treatment), and the establishment of grassroots institutions are vital tools in the fight against water poverty.

Reliable and transparent data collection on the needs of marginalized communities is essential. Without this, equitable resource planning is impossible. People’s organizations must be empowered to monitor service quality, expose corruption, and ensure accountability. These are not luxuries—they are preconditions for lasting development.

Who Will Speak for the Margins?

If Iran’s political transition is to be remembered as a path to justice, it must include those who have been silenced and excluded for decades. Policymakers, media, and civil society actors must amplify the voices of the marginalized—farmers, rural women, displaced families, informal settlement residents—not as victims, but as stakeholders in shaping a just future.

And yet, among Iran’s political elite, few have truly approached leadership with the mindset of public service. Power is too often mistaken for entitlement, and office for glory. Many believe that holding a title equates to serving the people—yet what we have witnessed, time and again, is the betrayal of public rights in the pursuit of private power.

If we define public service as "dedicated effort for the common good, guided by justice and grounded in accountability," then the list of true public servants becomes very short indeed. When those who claim leadership openly assert that they will not sacrifice their personal freedom or comfort for the sake of public duty, they expose their own philosophical and ethical limitations. A leader without the capacity to serve is merely a manager of injustice in a new costume.

The True Test of Transition

Much is being written and debated these days about "transition." And rightly so—because transition is not only a political moment, but a moral test. Will it empower those who have suffered most, or will it once again elevate those who ride into power on the backs of slogans and worshipful followers?

The best measure of any political claimant’s worth is not their rhetoric, but their readiness to sacrifice, to serve, and to present concrete plans for lifting the people and restoring the land. Without a deep commitment to justice—rooted in equity, participation, and the right to water—any promise of change is just another version of the past.