Sat. Mar 15th, 2025

The Yukon River in Whitehorse, Yukon, in June 2024. The U.S. has been proposing a plan for decades s that would divert water from the Yukon and other western rivers to American agricultural areas. (Photo by Mike Thomas/THE CANADIAN PRESS)

The Yukon River in Whitehorse, Yukon, in June 2024. The U.S. has been proposing a plan for decades s that would divert water from the Yukon and other western rivers to American agricultural areas. (Photo by Mike Thomas/THE CANADIAN PRESS)

Interest from the United States in Canada’s water is concerning, though nothing new. In the most recent development, the U.S. has paused negotiations the Columbia River Treaty, a key water-sharing agreement between both countries.

Geopolitical tensions, when coupled with demand that is outpacing a decreasing supply under a changing climate, are posing an imminent and very real threat to Canada.

An abandoned water project known as the North American Water and Power Alliance (NAWAPA) was tabled by the U.S. Army Corps of Engineers in the 1950s. It’s considered a zombie project, always resurfacing, never dead.

The $80 billion plan proposed construction of 369 structures that would divert water from the Yukon, Liard and Peace Rivers through a “Rocky Mountain trench” connecting Alaska to the Mississippi and Colorado River basins, and Alberta to the Great Lakes.

The goal was to convey massive volumes from the “water-rich” north to “water-deficient” but highly productive agricultural landscapes. Marc Reisner — an American environmentalist and author of Cadillac Desert, an account of water management and development across the Midwest — estimated that “six nuclear power plants worth of energy” would be required to pump the required volume of water across the Rockies.

Sounds like science fiction, except that it was — and remains — a genuine threat to Canadian water security.

Canadians not interested

Canada was simply in the way decades ago. Benefits from an American perspective were clear: improving water security and agricultural dominance of the American Midwest, and massive energy (hydropower) generation potential.

However, within the project’s blueprint is some of the most ecologically sensitive and protected wilderness in North America.

NAWAPA would have profound consequences for Indigenous communities and the environment. If enacted, it would alter the Rocky Mountain landscape and open the door to cross-border water trading. When first proposed, Canadians had little appetite for the plan.

The need for water in the U.S. has and always will be greater than Canada’s due to its population and industrial dominance; therefore Canadian justification to hold back water is regarded as weak from an American perspective.

NAWAPA has always walked a fine line politically, with water being exempt from free-trade agreements and opinions on water export historically divisive in Canada. Decades ago, the Canadian government was resistant to bilateral talks on water, and NAWAPA was considered impractical. That was until there was a “change of heart and attitude” in Canada. But in 2025, Canadian officials appear back to being firmly opposed.

While NAWAPA has not been seriously considered since the 1970s, there is growing speculation about whether it’s truly dead or just buried in bureaucracy, which is why it’s been coined a zombie project.

Trump’s water moves

Talk of NAWAPA recently resurfaced amid construction of BC Hydro’s Site C that would reportedly enable water transfers east of the Rockies and south to Texas.

A few key moments of the first Trump administrations have also resembled the early days of NAWAPA. In 2018, a memorandum of understanding gave the Secretary of the Department of the Interior a mandate to secure more water for the arid Midwest.

Soon after, the Columbia River Treaty between the U.S. and Canada was opened for renegotiation with the intent of optimizing energy generation in the U.S. through water storage on the Canadian side, despite an increased potential flood risk for Canada.

Significant concerns were also raised at the time over highly sensitive fish populations, the need to ensure adequate habitats for sensitive species and spawning, as well as Indigenous water rights and allocations.

This was followed by a 2020 executive order by Trump to modernize America’s water resource management and water infrastructure. The order was aimed at improving co-ordination among U.S. agencies managing water or infrastructure issues and streamlining resources to improve the efficiency of water management.

Through this order, a mandate was issued to “increase water storage, water supply reliability and drought resiliency” through internal co-ordination, but also to seek new external opportunities.

In late 2024 — at the end of President Joe Biden’s term — an agreement in principle between Canada and the U.S. was reached on the Columbia River that appeared to strike a compromise over many of the aforementioned concerns by adjusting the timing of when water could be stored, how much could be stored and when it would be released.

Trump’s recent “Putting People Over Fish” executive order, however, makes clear his stance on some of the Columbia River issues, calling into question whether the new treaty terms negotiated under the Biden administration will ever be ratified by Congress, especially now that final negotiations have been officially paused.

Boundary Waters Treaty disregarded?

Trump’s “Unleashing American Energy” executive order highlights the over-reach of his administration as it deliberately defies the National Environmental Policy Act to ensure water and energy supply is allocated to people first, disregarding environmental and ecological concerns.

For Canada, this has important implications for the 1909 Boundary Waters Treaty, which oversees sharing of international waters along the Canada-U.S. border. In some cases, the treaty allows Canada to hold back or divert water from the U.S., provisions that would be in direct violation of the Unleashing American Energy executive order even though Canada isn’t mentioned explicitly.

The Boundary Waters Treaty has long since been the envy of other nations struggling to come to agreeable terms over transboundary water-sharing and rights. Historically, it has been framed as a sign of a mutually beneficial, co-operative relationship between Canada and the U.S., a state of affairs that seemingly no longer exists under the Trump administration.

One thing is clear — despite uncertain times, Canadians must hold firm when it comes to water. Former Alberta premier Peter Lougheed perhaps said it best when he warned against sharing Canada’s water, reminding Canadians that “we should communicate to the United States very quickly how firm we are.”The Conversation

This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.

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