Siphons to the north

As with much that has to do with China, the numbers alone are bewildering: build hundreds of tunnels and nearly 3000 kilometres of artificial canals, interlink four of the largest rivers in Asia, in order to bring trillions of tonnes of water per year from southern to northern China? Or is it nearly 10,000 km and five rivers? And what is this talk about the damming of the Brahmaputra? Indeed, amidst increasing international alarm over rising temperatures, growing populations, melting glaciers, encroaching deserts, polluted watersheds and the prospect of future 'water wars' over 'blue gold', the magic and mystery traditionally associated with water have come to the fore. Few may understand the technicalities of the promised crisis, but all understand its effect: water, water everywhere, but nothing in my sink. That is the worry, anyway.

In the ensuing atmosphere of paranoia, 'water security' has entered the parlance of the upper echelons of various home and defence ministries alike, and bafflement and misinformation with regards to water affairs is camouflaged in strident nationalism. Nowhere is this more the case than in the capitals of Southasia – and no other country is able to strike as much fear into the hearts of regional policymakers as that great unknown to the north, China. Indeed, though official consternation has spiked in recent years, anxiety over a great Chinese siphoning has been festering in the Subcontinent throughout the region's modern existence. After all, Beijing formally took control over Tibet in 1951, just four years after most Southasians took control over their own capitals. The two transitions inevitably gave rise to a host of new foreign-policy concerns, not the least of which was the fact that the site of China's occupation was also Southasia's wellspring.