deepening

For many Iranians, the most immediate threat is no longer just war, but water.

Years of drought, falling rainfall and unsustainable water use have pushed the country into severe water stress, depleting reservoirs, rivers and groundwater reserves. The US-Israel war on Iran has added further strain after reports of damage to desalination plants, pipelines and other civilian water infrastructure in the early weeks of the conflict.

Iran is classified by the World Resources Institute as facing “extremely high” baseline water stress, using more than 80 percent of its renewable water supplies each year.

In this visual explainer, Al Jazeera breaks down Iran’s worsening water crisis and what is driving it.

How Lake Urmia disappeared

One of the most striking examples of Iran’s water crisis can be seen from space.

A time-lapse display of Lake Urmia in northwestern Iran shows how the largest saltwater lake in the Middle East, which covered nearly 6,000sq km (2,300sq miles) in the 1990s, shrunk to just 581sq km (224sq miles), less than 10 percent of its former size.

Consecutive droughts, agricultural water use, river diversion, and groundwater extraction have transformed vast stretches of Lake Urmia into exposed salt flats.

More than 60 dams built on its feeder rivers choked off inflows, while farmers diverted water into irrigation channels and decades of groundwater extraction drained the aquifers below. Rising temperatures accelerated evaporation as precipitation fell.

Iran’s growing water deficit

To sustain its freshwater resources, a country must replenish at least as much water as it withdraws for agriculture, industry, and household use.

Iran has long been on the wrong side of that equation. Decades of dam construction, intensive farming, and groundwater extraction have pushed consumption far beyond what rainfall can replenish.

In 2025, Iran’s 92 million people consumed around 100 billion cubic metres of water, nearly 13 billion more than its renewable resources could provide.

Agriculture is by far the largest consumer of water in Iran, accounting for about 91 percent of all withdrawals, compared with seven percent for households and two percent for industry. Yet much of that water is lost before it reaches crops, as ageing and inefficient irrigation systems waste a significant share of the country’s most precious resource.

Disappearing dams around Tehran

Iran is one of the world’s major dam-building countries, and has constructed hundreds of large and small dams to store water, generate electricity, and manage shortages.

In recent years, dozens of reservoirs have dropped to extremely low levels, leaving several to nearly run dry.

Before-and-after satellite imagery of Lar Dam, Latyan Dam and Mamloo Dam, all clustered around Tehran and the southern slopes of the Alborz mountains and forming part of the main water supply system for the capital region, reveals how water levels have declined over time as drought and rising demand strain Tehran’s water system.

Drought displacing thousands

Water scarcity is increasingly reshaping where Iranians can live.

As wells run dry and farming becomes harder to sustain, many families are leaving rural communities in search of more secure livelihoods. According to Abdolkarim Hosseinzadeh, Iran’s vice president for Rural Development and Disadvantaged Regions, only 38,000 of the country’s 69,000 villages remain inhabited, while 31,000 villages have been abandoned.

The pressure extends far beyond abandoned settlements. According to Iran’s state-owned Water and Wastewater Company, about 27,000 villages, home to more than 10 million people, are currently experiencing water shortages. In total, more than 70 percent of Iran’s villages are facing some form of water crisis.

Many migrants head towards major cities such as Tehran, Mashhad, Isfahan, and Shiraz. Yet these cities are facing water pressures of their own. Home to more than nine million people, Tehran has seen growing strain on its water system as drought and demand continue to rise.

The map below shows how Iran’s population is concentrated in the western half of the country. Today, roughly 75 percent of Iranians live on less than 40 percent of the country’s land area, concentrating both people and water demand in a relatively small region.

The effects of water scarcity can also be seen along the Zayandehrud River, once one of central Iran’s most important waterways.

Satellite imagery of Zayandehrud Dam reveals declining water levels upstream after years of drought and overuse.

Further downstream, the consequences become visible in the heart of Isfahan. The historic Allahverdi Khan Bridge (Si-o-Se Pol) was built over a river that sustained the city for centuries.

Today, residents increasingly encounter dry riverbeds beneath its arches as sections of the Zayandehrud repeatedly run dry.

Only a tiny fraction from desalination

Desalination accounts for only about three percent of Iran’s water needs, a stark contrast to Gulf neighbours, which depend on it for the majority of their drinking water.

Most of Iran’s desalination plants are located along its southern coast on the Gulf. As a result, desalination is largely concentrated in coastal cities, while inland areas such as Tehran, Isfahan and most agricultural regions rely on other water sources.

Mogadishu, Somalia – Mustafa, 33, dreads election time in Somalia. He drives a bajaj — a three-wheeled taxi — and says that when tensions rise, as they always do when polls are near, the whole city feels it, and drivers like him are among the first.

On Wednesday, he was passing through the Hawl Wadaag district when heavy gunfire between government and opposition forces erupted all around him.

“I couldn’t even think. Everyone was shouting and running for their lives, and we all fled from the bullets,” he told Al Jazeera. “We haven’t seen fighting this bad in years.”

The shooting that began that afternoon around the homes of former Prime Minister Hassan Ali Khaire and, later, former President Sheikh Sharif Sheikh Ahmed, came as opposition figures were planning to organise protests against what they describe as an illegal term extension by incumbent President Hassan Sheikh Mohamud.

Khaire and Sharif Sheikh Ahmed were among opposition leaders spreadheading the planned protests amid rising tensions with the federal government.

The government said the planned protests would undermine security in a city still grappling with persistent armed violence.

Hundreds of families fled neighbourhoods near the fighting, and by the next day, many of the capital’s central areas had emptied. The sudden eruption of violence ended a period of improving security in Mogadishu, shattering the perception that the city had begun turning a corner.

“The most frustrating thing is that we have nothing to do with it, and it impacts so many of us,” Mustafa said. “We make our living in this city”.

Security forces sealed Maka al-Mukarama Road, one of Mogadishu’s main arteries, while Bakara market, the largest commercial hub in the city, was effectively closed for business.

“Look, it’s midday, and there’s almost no one here, shops are closed, and usually by this time the place is jammed,” Ahmed, a street vendor at Bakara market, told Al Jazeera, gesturing at shuttered stalls.

Ali Wardheere, the deputy central bank governor, estimated the direct cost to businesses and services at $3.8m, though he stressed the figure was a model-based projection, not an official or final tally.

Like most Somalis, Mustafa has never voted for a president or a member of parliament. The country has not held a direct election for national leadership since the late 1960s.

Since the state was re-established in 2012 after its 1991 collapse, leaders have been selected through an indirect system negotiated by clan elders and political elites.

As presidential terms near their end, low trust among political actors often leads to intense competition over power — and at times violence — as disputes over the electoral timetable come to a head.

At a press conference in late May, Sharif warned that the political deadlock could turn violent if negotiations failed.

“Where do things stand? [We say] Leave, and [you say] I won’t leave. What comes next? Bullets.”

The warning echoed events in 2021, when then-President Mohamed Abdullahi Farmaajo remained in office more than a year beyond the end of his term, triggering clashes in Mogadishu before a political agreement was reached.

Higher stakes this election

This time, the political standoff carries higher stakes.

President Hassan Sheikh Mohamud says that constitutional amendments approved by parliament extended his mandate by an additional year from May 15. The opposition rejects that and has begun referring to him as a “former president”.

Two of Somalia’s most influential federal states also reject the amendments, leaving the country divided over the constitutional framework governing the next election, with no constitutional court to resolve the dispute.

After parliament approved the changes, Mohamud declared that the “provisional constitution, and the provisional era, was a sun which set yesterday,” signalling that his administration would press ahead despite objections from its opponents.

Tensions had been building for days. Ahead of a protest planned for Thursday, opposition leaders left the heavily fortified “green zone” near Mogadishu’s airport and returned to their residences across the city.

Some opposition figures said they would deploy their own armed guards at the demonstration, a proposal Mohamud rejected. The dispute heightened fears of a confrontation before fighting eventually broke out.

Both sides blame the other for starting the clashes. Khaire accused Mohamud of directing a “sustained and indiscriminate military assault” that lasted more than 20 hours, a claim Sharif echoed after fighting reached his own residence.

Ahmed Moalim Fiqi, the defence minister, accused the opposition of militarising the standoff, likening it to Sudan’s Rapid Support Forces and alleging that opposition figures had “distributed mortars and artillery across the capital”.

“Force and militias,” he said, would no longer be allowed to “seize power or block the state.”

How it came to this

The roots of the crisis run back to the 2012 provisional constitution, which set up a federal, parliamentary system built on broad consensus and clan-based power-sharing, which every government since has promised to achieve and failed to attain.

This year, after a long review, parliament amended the constitution through a disputed process that split the political class. The government has insisted that the new constitution advances the statebuilding process and that the Somali public should be allowed to directly elect its representatives.

For Ahmed Abdi Koshin, a federal MP who boycotted the draft, the danger is that the whole settlement comes apart. The process, he said, “clearly doesn’t have buy-in,” and the original constitution, for all its faults — “an imperfect product of compromise” — was the “only glue holding Somalia together”.

Koshin is not against a direct vote in principle, he said, but does not believe the country is ready for one. “We don’t have legislation for a direct vote; censuses and the security situation remains compromised. It really is up to the president to either reach a deal and save Somalia, or watch it fall apart,” he said.

The opposition, organised as a coalition known as the Somali Future Council and including two serving federal-state presidents, former prime ministers and a former president, has pressed Mohamud to accept that his mandate has ended and negotiate a new electoral framework, as in past transitions.

It alleges that his push for a direct vote is a pretext for extending his term and potentially securing another.

The government rejects that, casting a national one-person, one-vote election — the first since the 1960s — as essential to a drawn-out state-building project. When electoral talks collapsed on May 15, the Ministry of Information accused the opposition of bringing demands that ran counter to “the citizen’s fundamental right to vote and to be voted for”, and vowed to press ahead.

Mohamed Ibrahim Moalimuu, a lower-house MP who backed the amendments, said further delay could not be justified. “We’ve waited for more than 12 years,” he told Al Jazeera.

“If they had arguments against them, they should have taken part in the process and raised their issues. A constitution isn’t a Quran, and they should come back and work through parliament to make their views clear.”

A whole generation of Somalis, he noted, have never cast a ballot, and a real election “would be a major milestone and would bring some hope”.

The old indirect system, he added, was notoriously corrupt, with parliamentary seats changing hands for anywhere from $100,000 to as much as $1.3m. “This system is too dirty and keeps people out,” said Maliumuu. “It needs to be changed.”

A deeper problem

A regional official, speaking on condition of anonymity because he was not authorised to talk to the media, described an elite “divided strategically over what type of country they want, whether a strong centralised state or a weak decentralised one, and tactically over who the right candidate is to take them there”.

Mohamud, the official said, had moved from a decentralised vision for Somalia that embraces federalism towards a stronger executive, and his early, promising relationships with the federal-state leaders had since soured.

Those fractures have opened on several fronts at once.

Somaliland, which declared independence in 1991 and has stayed out of the constitutional review entirely, was recognised by Israel late last year after earlier courting Ethiopia.

Puntland and Jubaland, two of Somalia’s six federal states, have withdrawn from the federal system over the new constitution, while more than 100 MPs and senators from both boycotted the final vote.

Broader regional crises, from Sudan’s civil war to disease outbreaks elsewhere on the continent, have pushed Somalia further down the list of international priorities, leaving international engagement more fragmented and inconsistent.

The country is also grappling with a deepening humanitarian crisis and aid cuts, prompting famine monitors to warn of a heightened risk of hunger in parts of Somalia.

Yusuf Aynte, a veteran religious leader and former MP, said Somalia’s leaders needed to build consensus rather than push through changes that risk deepening divisions.

“The president says what he is doing is good, and that may be so,” he told Al Jazeera. “But the most important thing is what everyone can agree on.

“At the moment, Somalia has too many problems, and can’t afford to be distracted like this.”

Jamal Shiil, a youth activist, told Al Jazeera that Somalia’s large youth population would ultimately bear the cost of the persistent instability.

“Young people want to make a living here, for Somalia to be peaceful and not to have to leave because of the problems,” he said. “But if things don’t change it won’t leave them much of a choice”.

Cuba has begun distributing donated powdered milk from Mexico and Uruguay as the island faces severe shortages and a deepening economic crisis. Officials say young children, pregnant women and paediatric facilities will be prioritised.