Wednesday 25 October 2023

The Rio Grande isn't just a border—it's a river in crisis

Oct. 24, 2023, by V. Rueda and D. Gronewold, The Conversation

The Rio Grande, viewed from the Zaragoza International Bridge between El Paso, Texas, and Ciudad Juarez, Mexico. 
Credit: Vianey Rueda, CC BY-ND

The Rio Grande is one of the longest rivers in North America, running some 1,900 miles (3,060 kilometers) from the Colorado Rockies southeast to the Gulf of Mexico. It provides fresh water for seven U.S. and Mexican states, and forms the border between Texas and Mexico, where it is known as the Río Bravo del Norte.

The river's English and Spanish names mean, respectively, "large" and "rough." But viewed from the Zaragoza International Bridge, which connects the cities of El Paso, Texas, and Ciudad Juárez, Mexico, what was once mighty is now a dry riverbed, lined ominously with barbed wire.

In the U.S., people often think of the Rio Grande mainly as a political border that features in negotiations over immigration, narcotics smuggling and trade. But there's another crisis on the river that receives far less attention. The river is in decline, suffering from overuse, drought and contentious water rights negotiations.

Urban and rural border communities with poor infrastructure, known in Spanish as colonias, are particularly vulnerable to the water crisis. Farmers and cities in southern Texas and northern Mexico are also affected. As researchers who study hydrology and transboundary water management, we believe managing this important resource requires closer cooperation between the U.S. and Mexico.

A hidden water crisis

For nearly 80 years, the U.S. and Mexico have managed and distributed water from the Colorado River and the Lower Rio Grande—from Fort Quitman, Texas, to the Gulf of Mexico—under the 1944 Water Treaty, signed by presidents Franklin D. Roosevelt and Manuel Avila Camacho. The Colorado River was the central focus of treaty negotiations because officials believed the Colorado basin would have more economic activity and population growth, so it would need more water. In fact, however, the Rio Grande basin has also seen significant growth.

For the Rio Grande, the treaty allocates specific shares of water to the U.S. and Mexico from both the river's main stem and its tributaries in Texas and Mexico. Delivery of water from six Mexican tributaries has become the source of contention. One-third of this flow is allocated to the U.S., and must total some 76 million cubic feet (2.2 million cubic meters) over each five-year period.

The treaty allows Mexico to roll any accrued deficits at the end of a five-year cycle over to the next cycle. Deficits can only be rolled over once, and they must be made up along with the required deliveries for the following five-year period.

The Rio Grande is one of the largest rivers in the southwest U.S. and northern Mexico. Because of drought and overuse, sections of the river frequently run dry. 

These five-year periods, called cycles, are numbered. Cycles 25 (1992-1997) and 26 (1997-2002) were the first time that two consecutive cycles ended in deficit. Like the Colorado River, the Rio Grande has become over-allocated: The 1944 treaty promises users more water than there is in the river. The main causes are persistent drought and increased water demand on both sides of the border.

Much of this demand was generated by the 1992 North American Free Trade Agreement, which eliminated most border tariffs between Canada, the U.S. and Mexico. From 1993 through 2007, agricultural imports and exports between the U.S. and Mexico quadrupled, and there was extensive expansion of maquiladoras—assembly plants along the border. This growth increased water demand.

Ultimately, Mexico delivered more than the required amount for Cycle 27 (2002-2007), plus its incurred deficit from cycles 25 and 26, by transferring water from its reservoirs. This outcome appeased Texas users but left Mexico vulnerable. Since then, Mexico has continued to struggle to meet its treaty responsibilities and has experienced chronic water shortages.

In 2020, a confrontation erupted in the state of Chihuahua between the Mexican National Guard and farmers who believed delivery to Texas of water from the Rio Conchos—one of the six tributaries regulated under the 1944 treaty—threatened their survival. In 2022, people lined up at water distribution sites in the Mexican city of Monterrey, where the population had doubled since 1990. As of 2023, halfway through Cycle 36, Mexico has only delivered some 25% of its targeted amount.

Border politics overshadow water shortages

As climate change makes the Southwest hotter and drier, scientists predict that water shortages on the Rio Grande will intensify. In this context, the 1944 treaty pits humanitarian needs for water in the U.S. against those in Mexico.

It also pits the needs of different sectors against one another. Agriculture is the dominant water consumer in the region, followed by residential use. When there is a drought, however, the treaty prioritizes residential water use over agriculture.

The Rio Grande is affected by nearly the same hydroclimate conditions as the Colorado River, which flows mainly through the southwest U.S. but ends in Mexico. However, drought and water shortages in the Colorado River basin receive much more public attention than the same problems on the Rio Grande. U.S. media outlets cover the Rio Grande almost exclusively when it figures in stories about immigration and river crossings, such as Texas Gov. Greg Abbott's 2023 decision to install floating barriers in the river at widely used crossing points.

https://youtu.be/Ym6m2rZeXPw?si=Bjnj7v4O-fxlCjXs

Farmers as far north as Colorado rely on water from the Rio Grande for irrigation.

The compact that governs use of Colorado River water has widely recognized flaws: The agreement is 100 years old, allocates more rights to water than the river holds, and completely excludes Native American tribes. However, negotiations over the Colorado between compact states and the U.S. and Mexico are much more focused than decision-making about Rio Grande water, which has to compete with many other bilateral issues.

Adapting to the future

As we see it, the 1944 water treaty is inadequate to solve the complex social, economic, hydrological and political challenges that exist today in the Rio Grande basin. We believe it needs revision to reflect modern conditions.

This can be done through the minute process, which permits Mexico and the U.S. to adopt legally binding amendments without having to renegotiate the entire agreement. The two countries have already used this process to update the treaty as it pertains to the Colorado River in 2012 and again in 2017.

These steps allowed the U.S. to adjust its deliveries of Colorado River water to Mexico based on water levels in Lake Mead, the Colorado's largest reservoir, in ways that proportionally distributed drought impacts between the two countries. In the Rio Grande basin, Mexico does not have similar flexibility.

The U.S. also has the ability to proportionally reduce deliveries under a separate 1906 agreement that outlines water delivery from El Paso to Ciudad Juarez. In 2013, for example, Mexico received only 6% of the water it was due under the 1906 Convention.

Enabling Mexico to proportionally reduce Rio Grande deliveries according to drought conditions would distribute drought and climate change impacts more fairly between both countries. As we see it, this kind of cooperation would deliver human, ecological and political benefits in a complex and contentious region.

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The mighty Mississippi, America's water highway, is dangerously low

OCTOBER 24, 2023, by Ulysse BELLIER


Dredging vessels like this one operated by the US Army Corps of Engineers are working to keep the Mississippi River navigable.

In the middle of the shrunken Mississippi, a barge drags a giant metal-edged suction head along the riverbed to remove sediment from shipping lanes.

The crew of the dustpan dredge Hurley has been working around-the-clock for months to deepen the channels so boats and barges can pass through.

"We've worked almost nonstop since last fall, everywhere from New Orleans up to St. Louis" in Missouri, said the vessel's captain Adrian Pirani, standing on the bridge.

For the second straight year, water levels in North America's biggest river have dropped to record lows amid a lengthy drought. Locals say they've never seen it this bad.

From the Great Lakes in the north to Louisiana in the south, the majestic Mississippi is a shadow of its former self.

Plants have taken over newly exposed banks. Salt water is pushing in from the Gulf of Mexico. And farmers dependent on the river to ship their products have watched with frustration as traffic has seized up.

Authorities are doing what they can to ensure the river remains navigable, and that's where the Hurley, operated by the US Army Corps of Engineers, comes in.

The dredge is currently digging at the same spot near Memphis, Tennessee for the third time. The dredge scrapes and sucks up mud from the river bottom and spews it onto the bank.

Chart showing monthly water levels of the Mississippi River at Memphis, Tennessee from 2014-2023.

Pirani said he works long hours, first of all, "to make sure that commerce does not stop."

But the job hits closer to home.

"I come from a farming family right here across the river. So it is kind of personal for me... I will do all I can do to keep the river going," he told AFP.

Unusable docks

For farmers in the vast US Midwest, the Mississippi is an indispensable part of their transportation network.

But drought has left the river narrower and shallower, limiting shipping capabilities.

The bottleneck is ill-timed: early autumn is when farmers are working flat out to harvest soybeans and corn. With river shipping limited, they scramble to deal with massive buildups of stocks.

On the river in Osceola, Arkansas, Jeff Worsham manages an agricultural port. But two of its three docks are unusable due to the low water.

Louisiana resident Larry Louviere (C) confronts local officials about the saltwater intrusion in their drinking water, linked to drought conditions and low river levels.

A barge is tied up at the only accessible dock as soybeans are shot from a huge metal spout into its hold.

The vessel's capacity equals that of roughly 80 trucks—but for now, it can only be filled to 50 or 60 percent capacity so the craft does not run the risk of getting stuck in the mud.

To ensure operations at all three docks next year, Worsham says, "we have made plans to do some dredging next year."

'Extreme weather'

The overriding fear is that the water crisis will become the new normal.

Last year, a record that had stood since 1988 was broken. It was broken again this September, and yet again in October.

A drought that began last year in the Mississippi's vast watershed (covering 40 percent of the continental United States) "lingered into this year, and it's gotten worse," Anna Wolverton, a National Weather Service specialist, told AFP.

A Louisiana man looks at a grass-covered field that would normally be underwater; the Mississippi River has been at record low levels.


"It's not normal for us to see this in back-to-back years."

The river's flow has grown so weak that in southern Louisiana, salt water from the Gulf of Mexico has been encroaching, contaminating drinking water in some towns and forcing inhabitants to rely on bottled water.

Around Memphis, gauges that monitor the Mississippi's depth have been left high and dry by the receding waters, explained Sarah Girdner, a hydrologist with the Army Corps of Engineers.

"Over the past 10 to 15 years, we've seen extreme weather on both spectrums," she told AFP aboard the Hurley. "We've seen more historic floods, and we've seen more historic droughts."

When asked what explained the conditions, she said, "We don't necessarily use the term 'climate change,' because causality is attached to that, but we do know that weather patterns are changing."

'Frightening'

In 50 years working around the Mississippi, Pete Ciaramitaro has seen the changes.

An Army Corps of Engineers employee looks on as a cargo ship navigates the Mississippi River -- the Corps is responsible for keeping US waterways navigable.


But what Ciaramitaro, director of river operations for the Southern Devall shipping company, has not seen is two consecutive autumns with so little water.

While droughts used to occur roughly once every 25 years, he said, "It looks like it's going to be an annual thing to me. And that's frightening."

Of the dozen professionals interviewed by AFP, Ciaramitaro was the only one to link the drought explicitly to climate change—a politically sensitive term in the United States.

"If somebody else has got a better explanation for it, I'd love to hear it," he said. "But it's the only one I can come up with—climate change."


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