Kabul on the Brink of "Day Zero"

Whenever a country faces a national crisis, the first responsibility of its leaders is to accept accountability and answer to the people, not to rewrite the past in a way that downplays the government’s role in creating the crisis. A few days ago, Ashraf Ghani, the former president of Afghanistan, once again addressed the Kabul water crisis in a message and podcast, saying that plans to supply the capital with water had been prepared during his administration, but that the opportunity to carry them out was lost because of the collapse of the government and the failure to achieve peace.

Rather than answering the people’s fundamental questions, these remarks raise new ones before public opinion. If the plans were so thoroughly prepared, why did the vital projects to supply Kabul with water never reach the operational stage during years when the government enjoyed broad support from the international community, unprecedented budgets, and the presence of reputable international institutions? If the danger of the crisis was clear to the government, why did the management of water resources never become a national priority? And if experts had issued warnings, why were those warnings not taken seriously, and why did they not lead to effective action?

I raise these questions not as a political opponent, but as someone who, during those very years, served as head of Kabul’s environment department and as head of planning and policy at Afghanistan’s National Environmental Protection Agency, and who was closely involved in the warnings, technical reports, and discussions about the state of Kabul’s water. The aim of this piece is not to defend one political camp or attack another; it is to reexamine the story of Kabul’s water crisis based on realities on the ground, managerial experience, and scientific reports, because if we do not honestly review the past, we will not be able to save the future either.

The Kabul water crisis is not the product of a single year or a single government. Rapid population growth, large-scale migration, climate change, declining rainfall, and decades of war have all played a part in shaping the current situation. But this reality does not absolve governments of responsibility.

The very reason a government exists is to manage foreseeable threats before they turn into catastrophes. The art of governance is not reacting after a crisis has struck; it is preventing the crisis in the first place.

Kabul today is a city living off a reserve built over thousands of years. If we think of surface water as nature’s current account and groundwater as its savings account, the current account has been all but empty for years, and the city’s entire need is met from savings that formed deep in the earth over thousands of years. Yet for years, withdrawals from this reserve have far exceeded the rate at which it is naturally replenished. The outcome is clear: the water table keeps falling, wells run dry, and access to water grows more limited and more difficult by the day.

Reports published by international institutions in recent years show that Kabul’s water table has dropped significantly across many areas over the past decade, and that if the current trend continues, the capital of Afghanistan will face a crisis that some experts call “Day Zero,” the day when much of the city will no longer have access to a reliable supply of drinking water.

This situation did not arise suddenly. Years ago, scientific reports, domestic and international studies, and expert warnings all spoke of a worrying future for Kabul’s water resources. At technical meetings, it was stressed time and again that urban development had to be aligned with the capacity of water resources, that the extraction of groundwater had to be managed, and that major water-supply projects had to move urgently into the implementation stage.

The fundamental question is this: why did it not happen?

Ashraf Ghani’s government ran the country at a time when Afghanistan enjoyed broad support from the international community. The World Bank, the Asian Development Bank (ADB), the German government, the Indian government, the United States Agency for International Development (USAID), agencies affiliated with the United Nations (UN), and many international partners were all actively present in the water, environment, and urban-development sectors. Technical studies had been carried out, plans had been drawn up, and in some cases even funding had been earmarked.

Even so, key projects such as the Shahtoot Dam, the transfer of water to Kabul, and other infrastructure schemes never reached the operational stage before the government’s end. This fact alone shows that the problem was not merely the absence of a plan, but the gap between planning and execution.

During the years when I was responsible for Kabul’s environment, warnings were issued repeatedly that if the uncontrolled extraction of groundwater continued and unplanned urban growth was not reined in, Kabul would face a crisis far harder to manage than to prevent. These warnings were not merely the view of a single agency; they reflected the concerns of experts, researchers, and specialized institutions as well.

Even so, the environment and the management of water resources never became one of the government’s real priorities. In many cases, infrastructure issues were overshadowed by political rivalries, managerial disputes, and short-term priorities. The result was that, at that time, the most important asset for averting the crisis was lost piece by piece.

One measure of any government is the distance between its promises and its results. No government is judged by the number of its meetings, committees, or feasibility documents; it is judged by the projects that have brought real change to people’s lives. A resident of Kabul does not quench their thirst by reading a feasibility study; they need water that flows from the tap in their home.

For this reason, when there is talk today of “plans being ready,” the question still stands: why did these plans fail to produce results at a time when the government had every tool of implementation at its disposal?

One of the bitterest truths of the Kabul water crisis is that it was never a surprise. The government knew about it, specialized institutions knew about it, and the international community had warned of it repeatedly. The main problem, then, was not a shortage of information or knowledge; it was the absence of the political will to turn warnings into practical action. While the water table dropped lower every year, meetings were held, reports were prepared, and promises were repeated, yet the gap between decision and execution widened by the day.

Political Disputes: The Price Kabul Paid

It should not be forgotten that the National Unity Government faced deep political and managerial disputes from the very outset. These disputes were not confined to the political arena; they also cast a shadow over decision-making in many national projects.

As a senior government official at the time, I saw firsthand how coordination between agencies was sometimes shaped less by the public interest than by an atmosphere of mistrust and political rivalry. In such an environment, projects that required coordination, swift decision-making, and constant follow-up moved slowly.

This is not to say that all the problems stemmed solely from political disputes, but it would also be unfair to deny that these disputes affected the government’s effectiveness and consumed part of the country’s precious time during a period when Kabul needed major decisions more than ever.

Opportunities That Never Returned

Few countries in the world have enjoyed the opportunities that Afghanistan had after 2001. Billions of dollars in foreign aid, the presence of financial and development institutions, technical cooperation from various countries, and broad political support from the international community had created a rare capacity for investment in vital infrastructure.

The question here is why, despite such capacity, the Kabul water crisis reached this point.

If it is said today that the plans were ready, it must be acknowledged that a plan is not a substitute for a project. People see the results in their daily lives, not in administrative folders. What lies before us today is not a collection of study documents, but wells that grow deeper every year, families forced to obtain water at high cost, and neighborhoods struggling with water shortages.

Crisis Management: A Test That Was Never Passed

One of the measures of good governance is the ability to turn scientific warnings into public policy. In the case of Kabul’s water, that conversion did not happen to a sufficient degree.

Key projects were raised time and again, but their progress did not keep pace with the crisis. Meanwhile, urban development continued, new wells were dug, and pressure on underground resources increased.

If the record of that era is to be assessed today, the assessment must be based on results, not merely on intentions or plans. No government can be judged solely by what it intended to do; the main criterion is what it actually accomplished in practice.

A Response to Today’s Narrative

Ashraf Ghani speaks today of opportunities that, by his account, were lost when the government fell. This statement expresses part of the truth, for the collapse of the government undoubtedly halted many projects. But the fundamental question is what happened before that? Or, put another way, what did he himself actually do to confront this crisis?

The water crisis existed years before the government’s collapse; the warnings existed, and the responsibility for decision-making rested with the government of the day. For that reason, a significant part of the criticism concerns the years when all the instruments of governance, financial resources, and international cooperation were still in the government’s hands.

Today’s narrative, therefore, will only be complete when, alongside references to the opportunities lost after the government’s collapse, the opportunities lost before it are spoken of with the same candor.

History is not rewritten with a single sentence or a single podcast. History is a collection of decisions, opportunities, successes, and failures, and when it comes to the Kabul water crisis, all these elements must be viewed together.

When the Earth, Too, Cracks from Thirst

The Kabul water crisis is not limited to the drying up of wells. When more is drawn from underground aquifers than they can naturally sustain, the earth itself pays the price of this mismanagement.

Geological studies and satellite data in recent years have shown that in parts of Kabul, the ground has gradually subsided. This phenomenon is not merely a scientific term; cracks in the walls of homes, damage to roads, ruptured water and sewage networks, and rising reconstruction costs are all among its consequences.

On the other hand, as the water table falls, the quality of the water has also deteriorated. In many areas, contamination from soakaway pits, sewage, and chemicals threatens the safety of drinking water. The first victims of this situation are children, women, and families who cannot afford to dig deep wells or buy water.

The Kabul water crisis, therefore, is not merely an environmental issue; it has become a matter of health, the economy, social justice, and even human security.

The Truth Cannot Be Changed with New Narratives

Every politician has the right to defend their record, but no political narrative can take the place of objective facts.

If Ashraf Ghani speaks today of plans that, by his account, were ready to be implemented, the people also have the right to ask:

Why, despite awareness of the alarming decline in water resources, were the vital projects to supply Kabul with water never completed during his tenure?
Why did water management never become a national priority?
Why did unchecked urban development continue without regard for the capacity of water resources?
Why did the repeated warnings of experts, academics, and responsible agencies not lead to urgent and effective decisions?

These questions are not a political attack; they are part of demanding accountability for one of Afghanistan’s greatest national crises.

Governments are not remembered by their promises; they are remembered by the results of their performance.

The Future Can Still Be Saved

Despite all these bitter realities, hope has not yet been lost.

Kabul can still step back from the edge of this precipice, but only if the management of water resources moves from the margins of politics back to the center of national policymaking.

This requires clear and urgent action:

Accelerating the implementation of projects to transfer water to Kabul;
Protecting underground aquifers and preventing illegal extraction;
Artificially recharging aquifers by capturing rainwater and floodwater;
Reforming the urban-planning system and preventing the unplanned expansion of the city;
Expanding water treatment and recycling networks;
Strengthening the system for monitoring water consumption and public education on conservation;
And, most importantly, creating genuine coordination among responsible institutions, free from political rivalry.

The water crisis will not be solved with slogans, just as it will not disappear through denial. It can be contained only through difficult decisions, scientific management, and genuine accountability.

A Final Word

A few days ago, Ashraf Ghani once again spoke of Kabul’s water.

This piece is not an attempt to answer a single speech; it is an attempt to keep a city’s historical memory from falling victim to political narratives.

I have written these lines not as a political rival, but as someone who bore responsibility in this city’s environmental field for years and who saw firsthand how warnings were raised again and again, reports were prepared, and meetings were held, yet action never kept pace with the crisis.

If Kabul today stands on the verge of losing part of its vital water resources, this is not the outcome of a single decision or a single year; it is the product of a chain of negligence, delays, misplaced priorities, and weakness in implementing public policy.

Undoubtedly, many factors have played a part in shaping this situation, from rapid population growth and climate change to decades of war and unplanned development. But alongside all these factors, no government can shirk its responsibility for managing this crisis.

History will judge governments not by the number of their plans, meetings, and speeches, but by their ability to turn warnings into action and promises into results.

Years from now, the coming generation may not ask us which party we belonged to or which politician we supported, but it will surely ask: “When everyone knew Kabul was drying up, what did you do?”

This question is directed not only at a single government or a single president, but at all of us: politicians, administrators, experts, the media, and citizens.

If we tell the truth honestly today, perhaps the future can still be changed.

But if we once again put off the warnings until tomorrow, tomorrow there will be no opportunity left to make amends.

Kabul is still alive, but time is no longer on our side.

Sources

Mercy Corps, Afghanistan Water Crisis Assessment, 2025.
Studies by the United States Geological Survey (USGS) on Afghanistan’s groundwater.
Research based on InSAR satellite data on land subsidence in Kabul.
World Bank reports on water-resource management and urban development in Afghanistan.
UNICEF reports on water, sanitation, and urban services in Afghanistan.
KfW documents and reports on Kabul’s water-supply projects.
Reports published by Afghanistan’s media on water projects, resource management, and related developments.
The author’s observations and experiences during their tenure as head of Kabul’s environment department and head of planning and policy at Afghanistan’s National Environmental Protection Agency.