As a doctoral student in the Faculty of Economics and Politics in Cambridge, England, in the late 1980s, I enjoyed Professor Amartya Sen's seminars long before he was awarded the Nobel Prize. In a later work, he summarised and evidenced his main thesis that democratic societies do not suffer famines. It is something that we ought to remember now that many dogged imbeciles come at us with the pathetic lie that the Chinese Dictatorship "has raised millions of people out of poverty". Repeatedly on this Blog we have sought to show that "that simply ain't so" - and that indeed it will not be long before famine returns. Economies are very difficult to co-ordinate in the absence of some form of democracy. Totalitarian societies such as the Chinese Empire is at present can only survive if they have access to vast human and other resources that they can exploit. As these resources run out, the Chinese Dictatorship will seek to supply the shortfall through imperialist expansion - by exerting direct control over the resources of other countries - which is exactly what the Belt and Road Initiative is meant to do. As we can all see, even this "outlet", however, is proving inoperable because, first, the targeted nations are quick to react, and second because the capitalist West is much too strong an obstacle to any Han Chinese imperialist velleities.
Of course, the Western capitalist system has problems of its own. The export of "overpopulation and consumerism" that is the hallmark of capitalism is now rapidly lowering the living standards of so-called "emerging markets" - rebounding on our own Western parliamentary democracies. A New Global Deal is needed to avert the looming catastrophe.
People, companies forced to save water in parched India cityBy Emily Schmall | AP
In Chennai’s gleaming, 45-kilometer (28-mile) IT Corridor, some companies have already developed in-house water recycling systems. The Madras Chamber of Commerce plans to conduct a detailed water supply and demand analysis at two industrial areas in hopes of developing a road map that can be adopted widely among its 700-plus members.
Of course, the Western capitalist system has problems of its own. The export of "overpopulation and consumerism" that is the hallmark of capitalism is now rapidly lowering the living standards of so-called "emerging markets" - rebounding on our own Western parliamentary democracies. A New Global Deal is needed to avert the looming catastrophe.
By David
Fickling | Bloomberg
July 8, 2019
As a child in 1943,
the Indian economist Amartya Sen watched one of the worst famines of the
20th century sweep through his native Bengal. Contrary to the popular image,
the disaster didn’t manifest as a widespread shortage of food, he later
wrote. The middle classes hadn’t “experienced the slightest problem during
the entire famine,” which primarily affected “landless rural
laborers” instead.
That observation
carries an important lesson for India as it runs short of a commodity even more
fundamental than grain: water. As Sen showed, famine doesn’t simply result from
supplies running out, but from prices being pushed beyond the reach of the
neediest. Similarly, India’s current drought isn’t happening so much because of
an absolute shortage of water, as its misallocation and mispricing.
That’s shown most
dramatically by the crisis in Chennai. While the city is now dependent on
importing water by tankers to slake its thirst, India simultaneously has
the title of the world’s biggest water exporter:
So-called virtual
water exports – the molecules of H20 embedded in exported goods, alongside
those rendered unusable by the production of those goods – amount to
a net 95.4 billion cubic meters a year, according to data collected by the
Water Footprint Network, a group that encourages thriftier usage. This
makes India a bigger exporter of water than far better-endowed countries such
as Brazil, Russia, the U.S. and Canada, and represents nearly four times
the 25 billion cubic meters consumed by India’s households and industrial
enterprises.
Most of that comes
down to the fact that India’s largest agricultural exports are rice and cotton,
which both require thousands of liters of water for every kilogram of
product. Sugar and water buffalo meat, two of the other leading farm exports,
are also water-intensive.
There’s no scarcity
of these crops in global terms. India blocks rice imports with tariffs and
typically sends about 10% of its crop overseas. That puts the
country on par with Thailand for the title of biggest exporter and contributes
to a worldwide glut of rice, expected to hit a record 172 million
metric tons in the 2020 crop year. Cotton prices have fallen 20% over the
past year, with a global stockpile equivalent to about 60% of
consumption. Sugar hit its lowest price in a decade last August.
Putting so much water
into fattening rice grains and swelling cotton bolls seems a criminal waste of
a precious resource that urban areas are crying out for. As my colleague Mihir
Sharma has written, 21 Indian cities will start running short of groundwater by
next year, including New Delhi and Bengaluru, while 200,000 people in the
country die each year because of a lack of access to safe water.
If India wants to
grow the economies of these cities, it needs to provide the basic resources
necessary to make them function. Yet while urbanites are having to watch
every sip they consume, farmers are living high on the hog. About 70% of
agricultural water use comes from groundwater, much of it pumped out of the
soil with heavily subsidized, coal-fired electricity and then used in a
notoriously wasteful fashion.
In the Chennai basin,
about 79% of water is set aside for agriculture and livestock farming,
with just 11% going to domestic use and another 10% to industry.
Nationwide, the figures are even more tilted toward the farm sector. In a
country where a third of the population lives in cities, agriculture uses about
90% of fresh water, compared with 64% in China, 60% in Brazil, and 44% in
Nigeria.
One view is that this
uneven allocation is simply the price India pays to support its rural
poor. That’s not quite right. The farmers who have access to pumped
groundwater aren’t typically low-income smallholders, but larger-scale
rural business owners with the collateral to finance purchases of pumping
equipment.
These figures
constitute a powerful political grouping that has resisted measures, such as
power metering and more generous diversions to cities, which are needed to
avert India’s urban water crisis. The rural poor don’t do so well. If anything,
small-scale farmers reliant on hand-drawn wells are even worse off when the
water table is being pumped away for nothing by their wealthier neighbors.
That status quo may
be on the verge of breaking. Prime Minister Narendra Modi has vowed to give
every household in the country access to piped drinking water by 2024, a
target that will inevitably require farms to take a smaller share of the pie.
Worse, climate change and the ongoing over-extraction of groundwater
are already pushing the system to a breaking point.
It’s the same old
story that Sen observed. As in 1943, India’s poor and landless (whether in
urban or rural areas) are the ones who suffer, while the wealthy and landed
prosper. If Modi wants to deliver on his electoral promises, that’s going to
have to change.
By
Bill Spindle | Photographs by Gareth
Phillips for the Wall Street Journal
Aug. 19, 2019 10:27 am ET
o
SAVE
o
SHARE
o
TEXT
LEH, India—The Ladakh region of northern India is one of the
world’s highest, driest inhabited places. For centuries, meltwater from winter
snows in the Himalayan mountains sustained the tiny villages dotting this
remote land.
Now, like many other places in India, parts of Ladakh are
running short of water. A tourism boom has
sent the summer population soaring, and the region’s traditional system of
conserving water is breaking down.
Water crises are unfolding all across India, a product of
population growth, modernization, climate change,
mismanagement and the breakdown of traditional systems of distributing
resources. India is running out of water in more places, in more different
ways, putting more people at risk, than perhaps any other country.
Nearly all of India’s biggest cities, including New Delhi, the
nation’s capital, are rapidly depleting their groundwater reserves, and 40% of
India’s people could lack drinking water by the end of the next decade,
according to a 2018 report by NITI Aayog, a government-policy think tank.
In Ladakh, making matters worse, the winter snows were scarce
last year. In the fields above the city of Leh, tensions ran high.
Wheat farmer Tsering Wangchuck, 67, regularly rose at 3 a.m. to
send water into his fields before others living at higher elevation awoke. At
times, he had to march back uphill to confront a neighbor who had arrived later
to redirect the water his way.
“You had to check all the time,” he said. “It was frustrating.”India is the 13th most water-stressed country in the world, but its
population is triple the combined population of the other 16 countries facing
extremely high water stress, according to the World Resources Institute, a
nonprofit group with offices around the world that tracks water use and other
global environmental and resource issues.
Water resources in India have been mismanaged for decades.
Critical groundwater resources, which account for 40% of India’s water supply,
are being depleted at unsustainable rates, the NITI Aayog report said. Droughts
are becoming more frequent, creating severe problems for India’s rain-dependent
farmers.
By 2030, water demand in India is projected to be twice the
available supply, according to the report. “If nothing changes, and fast,
things will get much worse…with severe water scarcity on the horizon for
hundreds of millions,” the report said.
In the southern city of Chennai, drinking water
reserves almost completely dried up this year. Although a
200-day streak with no rain ended recently, the first month of the annual
monsoon brought one-third less rain than the 50-year average, which makes it
the driest June in five years, according to the India Meteorological
Department.
Two of Chennai’s four reservoirs went dry, and the other two
nearly did. Millions of residents of the city, India’s fifth largest, with a
population of about 10 million, have to get their drinking water from
trucks—either sporadically from government vehicles or by purchasing it from
private companies.
In the agricultural heartland of India’s northern plains, where
almost one-third of the country’s food is grown, farmers generally pay little
or nothing for the groundwater they use or the energy needed to pump as much as
they desire. That has led them to plant water-intensive crops, creating
shortages, especially during lapses in the annual monsoons, that endanger the
country’s food supply.
Two of the four reservoirs in
the southern city of Chennai went dry, and the other two nearly did. PHOTO: ATUL LOKE/GETTY
IMAGES
Various Indian states are locked in legal and political battles
with one another over the control and use of water flowing through the nation’s
legendary rivers, such as the Ganges.
Some tourist centers have run short of water. Last year, in the
former British hill station of Simla, dozens of hotels had to cancel bookings
and temporarily shut down, and the city’s major summer festival was canceled.
Government schools were closed for 10 days because they lacked water for the
children and teachers.
“Until now, it’s been relatively easy to increase supply without
thinking too much about demand. But parts of India are beginning to hit the
natural limits of water supply,” said Mervyn Piesse, manager of the global food
and water crises research program at Future Directions International, a
research institute based in Nedlands, Australia. “Unless there is a reduction
in the rate at which those resources are being used, they are eventually going
to run out.”
Beset by the multitude of water problems, Prime Minister
Narendra Modibegan his second
term recently by appointing a ministry of water, combining
previous ministries that oversaw wetlands and riverways development and
drinking water and sanitation.
A warming climate is making water supplies more unpredictable
throughout the Himalayan region, upon whose watershed some two billion people
ultimately depend. A recent study by a nongovernmental organization that
focuses on regional developmental issues, called the Hindu Kush Monitoring and
Assessment Program, warned that glaciers feeding rivers in the Himalayan region
could start disappearing after 2050.
Ladakh, which borders China and Pakistan in the nation’s
far north, became a formal
Indian state earlier this month when the central government
separated it from Jammu and Kashmir. It has long been isolated, especially in
the winter, when many roads snow over and temperatures drop well below
freezing. In the 1970s, the Indian government opened the region to tourism, drawing
a trickle of mostly Western travelers who came to trek
and to visit the ancient Buddhist monasteries along the Indus
River.
Then came a 2010 hit Bollywood movie called “Three Idiots.” The
final song-and-dance extravaganza had two Indian megastars reuniting in love
along the shores of Lake Pangong, then a small-time Ladakhi tourist attraction.
Indian fans of the movie flocked to Ladakh to visit the lake.
The number of visitors to Ladakh, which has a year-round
population of only 133,000, has soared fivefold since the movie came out,
reaching 327,000 last year. Most stay in Leh. Local tourism officials and
hoteliers say many of the new tourists, unlike the adventure travelers who
preceded them, tend to stay in hotels where they shower twice daily and use
flush toilets instead of the waterless dry-pit latrines traditional to Ladakhi
villages. They also favor vegetables such as tomatoes and peppers over the
region’s traditional potatoes and barley, which require far less water to grow.
The new tourists consume about 25% more water per person than
longtime residents during the summer and double what the average resident uses
in the winter, when cold weather curtails running water, according to Iftiqar
Ahmed, an engineer in the Leh government’s office of Public Health and
Engineering, which oversees water use.
A hotel building boom in Leh has increased the number of rooms
since 2010 to 16,000, from fewer than 2,000.
In need of a constant water supply, the new hotels drilled their
own wells. By the time authorities started monitoring wells last year, they
estimated hotels were pulling up more than a million liters of water a day
during the June through August tourist peak, from ground water reserves fed by
melting snow and glaciers, said Mr. Ahmed. They now account for 20% of the
water used in the city, he said.
Outside Leh, where farming still underpins village life,
water has long been treated as a precious commodity. To preserve it and assure
equal distribution, the villagers appoint water managers, known as churpons, to oversee the collection of snowmelt into
catchment ponds and dole it out through an ancient network of canals and
sluices that run downhill past family farm plots. They ensure that families
with plots at higher elevations who get the water first leave a fair share for
families with plots at lower down.
In Saboo village, where some 300 families live a few miles
outside Leh, Jigmat Stanzin, 47, has held that job, which rotates annually
among village families. “We can’t waste a drop,” he says.
April to July 2018 were anxious months in Saboo. Villagers
decided the home gardens that provide food to most households should get water
first, then water would go to apricot and apple trees, which would take a decade
to replace if they died. Then, wheat and barley fields, and, finally, the
poplar trees used as building material.
Mr. Stanzin and a team of five other churpons worked around the
clock. Some fields weren’t planted and some crops were stunted. But the village
made it through.
Leh, however, stopped using churpons in 2015 as farming gave way
to tourism and other development. Mr. Wangchuck, who tends the family’s farm
with his wife, couldn’t plant half his fields, forcing him to buy feed for his
cows. His family cut back on what they ate and had less to sell in local
markets.
The city itself came to the brink of catastrophe. Some hotel
wells went dry as the paltry snowmelt failed to recharge underground springs
fast enough.
As many as 100,000 seasonal migrant workers reside in and around
Leh during the summer. Nearly all of them live in areas where water must be
delivered by tanker truck, once every three days.
Longer term, Leh has an $11 million project to pump drinking
water from the nearby Indus River. The project was planned in 2006, to be built
through the year 2042, for a summer population projected to be 84,000 by then.
But the summer population already is at least 90,000, Mr. Ahmed says. The
project timeline has been accelerated for completion two years from now.
Until it is completed, water needs will be met with a patchwork
of delivery systems. Some 4,500 households now have drinking water piped to
their homes a few hours each day as part of the plan to deliver drinking water
to all homes. During the winter, though, the pipes can freeze if they aren’t
drained at night.
Tanker-truck deliveries will continue to thousands of other
households. Residents store the water in plastic vats that they have taken to
padlocking to prevent theft.
Stanzin Namgyal, 52, grew up in Leh and is trying to revive the
churpon system to supply meltwater to remaining farmers and the many residents
with home gardens. Yet for the 23-room hotel he is building in the city center,
he intends to bore wells. “I’ll need one well, maybe even two,” he said.
RELATED
READING
Last year, Leh began requiring residents and businesses to
register their wells, but only a fraction of them did so. This year, the
municipality is conducting inspections door-to-door to try to get an accurate
count.
The eventual goal is to charge a fee for wells, and ultimately
to begin metering and charging for water usage, although officials concede such
measures may be years off.
Sonam Parvez, who also grew up in Leh, opened a 20-bed hotel and
heads an association of some 300 hoteliers. When his parents operated a small
guesthouse in Leh decades ago, he said, their water was allocated under the
churpon system.
“The churpon system is people coming together and trusting each
other,” he said. “With the coming of the present day, that trust is gone
because everyone is tapping into the bore well system. Everybody thinks there’s
free water down there. Last year, for the first time, Ladakhis discovered
there’s no free water.”
People, companies forced to save water in parched India cityBy Emily Schmall | AP
August 14, 2019
CHENNAI, India — For
retired Indian civil servant R. Devarajan and his wife, Chennai’s acute water
shortage has reinforced the wisdom of their decision years ago to install a
rainwater harvesting system in the three-story home where they live and rent
out units to others.
For months, their
neighbors in Royapettah, a working-class neighborhood in Chennai, have crowded
the streets waiting for the public water delivery trucks to come, often
foregoing a day’s wages in order not to miss their limited share of five or six
jugs per day.
But unlike many
residents in the southeast Indian city of 10 million, the Devarajans and their
50 tenants have an ample supply.
“I cannot depend for
all things on the government. So I’ve done my duty as a senior citizen,” said
Devarajan, 74. “Not a single drop of water, if rain comes, we will never waste
it. When monsoon fails, we’ll not suffer for that.”
His wife, Padmini,
added that even with the water surplus, they are careful not to waste any,
watering plants with the excess from washing clothes and dishes.
Receiving most of its
annual rainfall during a two-month autumn monsoon season, Chennai routinely
experiences droughts and floods. Exacerbated by climate change, the city’s
booming population has far outpaced its public water supply, forcing
individuals and businesses to embrace private solutions.
The water shortfall
is disrupting life and commerce at all levels.
Rapid development and
rampant construction have overtaxed a once-abundant natural water supply,
forcing the government to spend huge sums to desalinate seawater, bring water
by train from hundreds of kilometers (miles) away and deploy an army of water
trucks to people whose household taps have run dry for months.
A drought in the
summer of 2001 led the then-chief minister of the state of Tamil Nadu, of which
Chennai is the capital, to mandate that all residential buildings find a way to
harvest rain by August 2003.
Sekhar Raghavan, a
trustee and co-founder of the Akash Ganga Trust, which funds a model rainwater
center in Chennai, said a survey the trust conducted at the time found that
about 40% of households had complied with the order.
But in the absence of
strict enforcement, the systems were not maintained, said Raghavan, who
provides free advice and consultation on rainwater harvesting. “Now I get
almost 20 calls every day asking me to come and help them with harvesting,” he
said.
“It’s really picking
up — now they want to do it for themselves, not for the government sake, but
for their own sake. So that is a welcome change that I am seeing. Because of
the water scarcity, people have realized they can no longer waste rainwater,”
Raghavan said.
Rainwater harvesting
is one solution, but better maintenance of public water systems, including
fixing leaky pipes to expanding sewer treatment plants, is also critical, said
Isher Ahluwalia, the chair of the New Delhi-based Indian Council for Research
on International Economic Relations and a frequent op-ed contributor on water
issues.
“Rainwater is a gift
of God, but water coming from your tap is not so. For that you need to invest
in distribution networks and then you need to maintain those assets,” Ahluwalia
said.
“Most of the
middle-class people have found private solution to a public service water
delivery failure by investing in underground tank and booster pumps. They are
thus able to get 24/7 supply from their taps even when the municipal government
supply is only for a few hours,” she said, speaking not only of Chennai but
many of India’s water-scarce cities. “There is a certain apathy that develops
when you’ve found a private solution. You don’t look at the public service
collapse. People who really suffer are the poor who are not connected, and they
end up buying water from the tankers at a premium.”
At a 400-apartment
government housing block in Chennai on the banks of the Cooum River, a water
body so polluted that it’s considered dead, there is no rainwater harvesting
system, according to resident Jarina Bee.
“I know that
rainwater harvesting is very important, but we don’t know what is the
government plan to harvest rainwater,” Bee said.
Still, Bee and others
can fill jugs with free public water when the delivery trucks come through on
their daily rounds.
Not so for those
residing outside the metro board’s coverage area. In the village of Pallam,
just outside Chennai, some 70 families draw lots to determine when they can
draw from a communal well. Normally, there is no limit on water, but now,
community leaders have rationed each family to two or three jugs per day,
supplemented by a weekly visit by a municipal water truck that fills one
plastic drum per household.
In Chennai’s gleaming, 45-kilometer (28-mile) IT Corridor, some companies have already developed in-house water recycling systems. The Madras Chamber of Commerce plans to conduct a detailed water supply and demand analysis at two industrial areas in hopes of developing a road map that can be adopted widely among its 700-plus members.
“This may be a
long-term solution, but at least we would like to set the thought process so
that we avoid such situations in the future, if not immediately,” said K.
Saraswathi, the chamber’s secretary general.
No comments:
Post a Comment