Unlike oil, which can be redistributed on global markets, water has no immediate alternatives. And in one of the driest regions on the planet, weaponizing it means striking not just at states but at the very survival of the societies that inhabit them. In the Middle East, the geopolitics of energy has always dominated the conflict. But this war could remind the world that the truly irreplaceable resource is not oil. It is water.
By La Stampa
In the Middle East, oil has always explained wars. But this time, water could also become a weapon in the hands of various warring actors. While the world’s attention is focused on bombings, missiles and the Strait of Hormuz, in the “new Gulf war” a much quieter and perhaps even more dangerous front is emerging: that of water infrastructure. A conflict within a conflict.
Yesterday, a desalination plant (the process of removing salt and minerals from seawater to make it drinkable) on the Iranian island of Qeshm was hit by an attack that was initially attributed by Israeli media to the United Arab Emirates, but was later accompanied by conflicting versions and the possibility of American responsibility. The effect was immediate: over thirty villages on the island were left without water supply. Almost at the same time, Bahrain reported damage caused by an Iranian drone to one of its desalination plants. It is the first time since the start of the fighting that these structures have been identified as military targets.
The message is clear: using essential resources as weapons of conflict risks turning the energy war into a war for water. Statistics on water availability show that the region’s fragility is structural. On the coast of the Persian Gulf, hundreds of desalination plants make seawater drinkable, representing the main source of supply for millions of people. Without these structures, many large Gulf cities would not be able to support their populations and the large influx of tourists.
The dependence on this technology is extremely high: in Kuwait, around 90% of drinking water comes from desalination; in Oman, over 85%; in Saudi Arabia, around 70%. Bahrain and Qatar depend almost entirely on these plants to supply urban areas. Even Israel, despite a very advanced system, obtains around 80% of its drinking water from desalination. The United Arab Emirates has a somewhat lower dependence (40–45%) thanks to more diverse underground reserves, but even there the stability of coastal metropolises remains closely linked to the operation of the plants. Their disruption means disruption to the daily lives of the population.
For Iran, the issue is even more delicate. The Islamic Republic is one of the driest countries in the region, receiving an annual rainfall of one-fifth the global average, while agriculture consumes over 90% of its freshwater resources. Between 1970 and 2017, per capita water availability decreased by about 58%, indicating the depth of the water crisis. Climate change, desertification, demographic growth and inefficient policies have made the situation even more fragile. Water shortages have sparked protests in provinces such as Khuzestan.
In this context, war takes on a new dimension: attacking energy infrastructure damages the economy, while attacking water infrastructure directly affects the survival of communities. Water has long been part of the geopolitics of the Middle East, from the disputes over the Renaissance Dam between Ethiopia and Egypt, to tensions over the Jordan River between Israel and Jordan, to conflicts over the Tigris and Euphrates rivers between Turkey, Syria and Iraq, or disputes between Iran and Iraq over transboundary rivers and dams.
The region is today one of the areas most affected by water stress: over two-thirds of the population lives in conditions of severe water scarcity. Demographic pressure, desertification and resource depletion are turning access to water into an increasingly strategic issue. Until now, many countries had avoided directly attacking these structures due to the humanitarian consequences. But the current escalation seems to have lowered even this threshold.
If the war consolidates this new front, the consequences could be profound. Unlike oil, which can be redistributed on global markets, water has no immediate alternatives. And in one of the driest regions on the planet, weaponizing it means striking not just at states but at the very survival of the societies that inhabit them. In the Middle East, the geopolitics of energy has always dominated the conflict. But this war could remind the world that the truly irreplaceable resource is not oil. It is water.