‘I fear people will go to war over water’: as wells run dry, farmers struggle to survive in Bangladesh | Global development

In the parched fields of north-west Bangladesh, where the earth hardens into cracked red clay beneath an unforgiving sun, farmers in the Barind region say they are watching the foundations of rural life disappear underground.

For decades, groundwater transformed Barind – one of Bangladesh’s driest regions – into a productive agricultural belt. Deep tube wells allowed farmers to grow rice, wheat, maize and vegetables year-round across land once defined by drought.

But now, the aquifers that fuelled that transformation are collapsing under the combined pressure of the climate emergency, erratic rainfall and decades of intensive extraction. Recent studies show that more than 82% of the region is already under serious water stress.

“We have to place pipes deeper underground than before,” says Ataur Rahman, a 48-year-old farmer whose family has cultivated the same land for generations. “Even after going deeper, we still don’t get water like we used to.”

Across Barind, there is a growing sense of fear as irrigation becomes more expensive, less reliable and increasingly contested. In some villages, tube wells barely provide sufficient drinking water during the dry season.

“Sometimes we pump the tube well and nothing comes out,” says Sreemoti Shobdorani, 40, a farmer from Tilibari, a nearby village. “We think maybe the motor is broken, but actually the groundwater itself has gone down.”

The crisis reached a turning point last year when the Bangladesh government banned groundwater extraction for irrigation across nearly 5,000 villages in Rajshahi, Naogaon, Chapainawabganj and Natore districts, declaring them “water-stressed areas” for the next decade. Under the order, groundwater can only be used for drinking, while irrigation and industrial extraction are prohibited.

For most farmers, the announcement felt abrupt and destabilising. Many had already borrowed money for seeds, fertiliser and land preparation before the restrictions took effect. In January, the government quietly lifted the ban for two years, but many fear the reprieve is too brief for a crisis that is already tightening its grip.

“There is no clear roadmap for farmers,” says Mohammad Shamsudduha, professor of water crisis and risk reduction at University College London, who is researching Bangladesh’s groundwater crisis. “Implementing bans without viable alternatives risks triggering a serious humanitarian and economic crisis across rural communities.”

Stretching across elevated plains, the Barind region has always faced difficult growing conditions. Rainfall is sparse and unpredictable, while the region’s dense clay soil traps heat and resists moisture.

Since the 1980s, the state-run Barind Multipurpose Development Authority (BMDA) has installed about 18,000 deep tube wells across Rajshahi and Rangpur divisions, helping to expand irrigation and reshape agricultural production.

The system significantly increased crop yields and allowed many farmers to cultivate throughout the year. But it also intensified dependence on groundwater, particularly for cultivating water-intensive boro rice: a high-yielding variety of winter rice grown extensively across Bangladesh.

For farmers such as Rahman, the contradiction is impossible to escape. Without irrigation, crops fail – but continued extraction threatens the future of farming itself.

“We feel bad about lifting water like this,” he says. “But what option do we have? Without irrigation we cannot cultivate, and without cultivation we cannot survive.”

Rahman worries that future generations may no longer be able to survive on farming. His teenage son recently finished secondary school, and while Rahman hopes he will remain connected to the land that is central to his family’s existence, he encourages him to develop his computer skills and pursue opportunities beyond farming.

For women in Barind, the groundwater crisis has intensified an already exhausting burden of labour. Shobdorani’s days begin before sunrise and stretch late into the evening as she moves constantly between field and home – planting rice seedlings, carrying soil, caring for livestock, while cooking meals and raising her children.

Her family cultivates a mix of owned and sharecropped land, growing rice, maize, lentils, mustard and vegetables while raising ducks, chickens and cattle to supplement their income. But she says farming has become increasingly difficult as irrigation costs rise and yields decline.

“One hour of irrigation water used to cost 90 taka [55p],” she says. “Now it costs 120. Fertiliser prices have increased. Labour costs have increased. But crop production has gone down.”

Across Barind, farmers are shifting to crops that require less water. Even then, irrigation remains unpredictable. Farmers buy water by the hour using prepaid cards connected to deep tube wells, but weakening groundwater pressure means they often receive far less water than before. “Now, even after paying more money, less water comes out,” says Mohammad Asif, 27.

Many younger men from nearby villages have already migrated to Dhaka or other cities in search of work. Asif’s greatest fear is the future his child will inherit.

“By the time my son is 20 years old, the land will have changed drastically. Sometimes, I fear the struggle for water will become so brutal that people will go to war over it.”

That fear and sense of desperation increasingly underpin efforts by researchers and development organisations working in the region.

A recent study led by the development NGO Brac, with the Global Center on Adaptation and the International Water Management Institute, found that rising temperatures, declining rainfall and expanding boro rice cultivation are pushing the region towards critical groundwater depletion within the next two decades.

In response, Brac ran a pilot scheme to train more than 2,400 farmers in climate-resilient agriculture and water-saving irrigation methods such as alternate wetting and drying – where rice fields are not kept constantly flooded but are allowed to dry for a few days before being watered again, without harming the crops – and continue to work with farmers.

On a sunny afternoon in a small courtyard in Sindukhai village, about 20 farmers sit cross-legged in a circle under a tree, listening as Brac staff lead an information session.

“Building climate resilience requires more than just improving water access,” Mohammad Ali, programme head for Brac’s water, sanitation and hygiene programme in Bangladesh tells the group. “It means investing in water-efficient irrigation, climate-resilient crops, climate-smart farming and community-led water management systems.”

Ali says women must remain central to any long-term solution because they often bear the heaviest burden of water scarcity. “Embedding gender-sensitive approaches into water-service delivery is essential to ensure equitable access, strengthen community resilience and promote inclusive decision-making,” he says.

For many farmers, the answer lies not underground but above it: capturing rainwater, restoring wetlands and rebuilding ponds capable of storing water through the dry season. “If ponds were excavated deeper, rainwater could be stored for irrigation during dry seasons,” says Shobdorani. “I do not see enough effort to preserve water properly.”

Government officials say they recognise the severity of groundwater depletion and are exploring alternative irrigation systems to ensure continuing cultivation.

Experts estimate that more than 2.5m hectares (6.2m acres) of farmland could remain uncultivated, which would reduce crop yields by 2.7m tonnes. For households already struggling with rising living costs and repeated climate shocks, failed harvests could deepen debt, accelerate migration and worsen food insecurity.

The challenge facing Bangladesh is no longer simply how to conserve groundwater: it is how to do so without abandoning the farming communities who have cultivated the land for generations – and whose survival depends upon it.