Gabriel Eckstein, Texas A&M University and Rosario Sanchez, Texas A&M University

Immigration and border security will be the likely focus of U.S.-Mexico relations under the new Trump administration. But there also is a growing water crisis along the U.S.–Mexico border that affects tens of millions of people on both sides, and it can only be managed if the two governments work together.

Climate change is shrinking surface and groundwater supplies in the southwestern U.S. Higher air temperatures are increasing evaporation rates from rivers and streams and intensifying drought. Mexico is also experiencing multiyear droughts and heat waves.

Growing water use is already overtaxing limited supplies from nearly all of the region’s cross-border rivers, streams and aquifers. Many of these sources are contaminated with agricultural pollutants, untreated waste and other substances, further reducing the usability of available water.

As Texas-based scholars who study the legal and scientific aspects of water policy, we know that communities, farms and businesses in both countries rely on these scarce water supplies. In our view, water conditions on the border have changed so much that the current legal framework for managing them is inadequate.

Unless both nations recognize this fact, we believe that water problems in the region are likely to worsen, and supplies may never recover to levels seen as recently as the 1950s. Although the U.S. and Mexico have moved to address these concerns by updating the 1944 water treaty, these steps are not long-term solutions.

Growing demand, shrinking supply

The U.S.-Mexico border region is mostly arid, with water coming from a few rivers and an unknown amount of groundwater. The main rivers that cross the border are the Colorado and the Rio Grande – two of the most water-stressed systems in the world.

The Colorado River provides water to more than 44 million people, including seven U.S. and two Mexican states, 29 Indian tribes and 5.5 million acres of farmland. Only about 10% of its total flow reaches Mexico. The river once emptied into the Gulf of California, but now so much water is withdrawn along its course that since the 1960s it typically peters out in the desert.

The Rio Grande supplies water to roughly 15 million people, including 22 Indian tribes, three U.S. and four Mexican states and 2.8 million irrigated acres. It forms the 1,250-mile (2,000-kilometer) Texas-Mexico border, winding from El Paso in the west to the Gulf of Mexico in the east.

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Other rivers that cross the border include the Tijuana, San Pedro, Santa Cruz, New and Gila. These are all significantly smaller and have less economic impact than the Colorado and the Rio Grande.

At least 28 aquifers – underground rock formations that contain water – also traverse the border. With a few exceptions, very little information on these shared resources exists. One thing that is known is that many of them are severely overtapped and contaminated.

Nonetheless, reliance on aquifers is growing as surface water supplies dwindle. Some 80% of groundwater used in the border region goes to agriculture. The rest is used by farmers and industries, such as automotive and appliance manufacturers.

Over 10 million people in 30 cities and communities throughout the border region rely on groundwater for domestic use. Many communities, including Ciudad Juarez; the sister cities of Nogales in both Arizona and Sonora; and the sister cities of Columbus in New Mexico and Puerto Palomas in Chihuahua, get all or most of their fresh water from these aquifers.

A booming region

About 30 million people live within 100 miles (160 kilometers) of the border on both sides. Over the next 30 years, that figure is expected to double.

Municipal and industrial water use throughout the region is also expected to increase. In Texas’ lower Rio Grande Valley, municipal use alone could more than double by 2040.

At the same time, as climate change continues to worsen, scientists project that snowmelt will decrease and evaporation rates will increase. The Colorado River’s baseflow – the portion of its volume that comes from groundwater, rather than from rain and snow – may decline by nearly 30% in the next 30 years.

Precipitation patterns across the region are projected to be uncertain and erratic for the foreseeable future. This trend will fuel more extreme weather events, such as droughts and floods, which could cause widespread harm to crops, industrial activity, human health and the environment.

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Further stress comes from growth and development. Both the Colorado River and Rio Grande are tainted by pollutants from agricultural, municipal and industrial sources. Cities on both sides of the border, especially on the Mexican side, have a long history of dumping untreated sewage into the Rio Grande. Of the 55 water treatment plants located along the border, 80% reported ongoing maintenance, capacity and operating problems as of 2019.

Drought across the border region is already stoking domestic and bilateral tensions. Competing water users are struggling to meet their needs, and the U.S. and Mexico are straining to comply with treaty obligations for sharing water.

Cross-border water politics

Mexico and the United States manage water allocations in the border region mainly under two treaties: a 1906 agreement focused on the Upper Rio Grande Basin and a 1944 treaty covering the Colorado River and Lower Rio Grande.

Under the 1906 treaty, the U.S. is obligated to deliver 60,000 acre-feet of water to Mexico where the Rio Grande reaches the border. This target may be reduced during droughts, which have occurred frequently in recent decades. An acre-foot is enough water to flood an acre of land 1 foot deep – about 325,000 gallons (1.2 million liters).

Allocations under the 1944 treaty are more complicated. The U.S. is required to deliver 1.5 million acre-feet of Colorado River water to Mexico at the border – but as with the 1906 treaty, reductions are allowed in cases of extraordinary drought.

Until the mid-2010s, the U.S. met its full obligation each year. Since then, however, regional drought and climate change have severely reduced the Colorado River’s flow, requiring substantial allocation reductions for both the U.S. and Mexico.

In 2025, states in the U.S. section of the lower Colorado River basin will see a reduction of over 1 million acre-feet from prior years. Mexico’s allocation will decline by approximately 280,500 acre-feet under the 1944 treaty.

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This agreement provides each nation with designated fractions of flows from the Lower Rio Grande and specific tributaries. Regardless of water availability or climatic conditions, Mexico also is required to deliver to the U.S. a minimum of 1,750,000 acre-feet of water from six named tributaries, averaged over five-year cycles. If Mexico falls short in one cycle, it can make up the deficit in the next five-year cycle, but cannot delay repayment further. https://www.youtube.com/embed/IgWSMgg9TmE?wmode=transparent&start=0 The U.S. and Mexico are struggling to share a shrinking water supply in the border region.

Since the 1990s, extraordinary droughts have caused Mexico to miss its delivery obligations three times. Although Mexico repaid its water debts in subsequent cycles, these shortfalls raised diplomatic tensions that led to last-minute negotiations and large-scale water transfers from Mexico to the U.S.

Mexican farmers in Lower Rio Grande irrigation districts who had to shoulder these cuts felt betrayed. In 2020, they protested, confronting federal soldiers and temporarily seizing control of a dam.

U.S. President Donald Trump and Mexican President Claudia Scheinbaum clearly appreciate the political and economic importance of the border region. But if water scarcity worsens, it could supplant other border priorities.

In our view, the best way to prevent this would be for the two countries to recognize that conditions are deteriorating and update the existing cross-border governance regime so that it reflects today’s new water realities.

Gabriel Eckstein, Professor of Law, Texas A&M University and Rosario Sanchez, Senior Research Scientist, Texas Water Resources Institute, Texas A&M University

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

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Daniel T. Kim, Albany Medical College

I sit on an ethics review committee at the Albany Med Health System in New York state, where doctors and nurses frequently bring us fraught questions.

Consider a typical case: A 6-month-old child has suffered a severe brain injury following cardiac arrest. A tracheostomy, ventilator and feeding tube are the only treatments keeping him alive. These intensive treatments might prolong the child’s life, but he is unlikely to survive. However, the mother – citing her faith in a miracle – wants to keep the child on life support. The clinical team is distressed – they feel they’re only prolonging the child’s dying process.

Often the question the medical team struggles with is this: Are we obligated to continue life-supporting treatments?

Bioethics, a modern academic field that helps resolve such fraught dilemmas, evolved in its early decades through debates over several landmark cases in the 1970s to the 1990s. The early cases helped establish the right of patients and their families to refuse treatments.

But some of the most ethically challenging cases, in both pediatric and adult medicine, now present the opposite dilemma: Doctors want to stop aggressive treatments, but families insist on continuing them. This situation can often lead to moral distress for doctors – especially at a time when trust in providers is falling.

Consequences of lack of trust

For the family, withdrawing or withholding life-sustaining treatments from a dying loved one, even if doctors advise that the treatment is unlikely to succeed or benefit the patient, can be overwhelming and painful. Studies show that their stress can be at the same level as people who have just survived house fires or similar catastrophes.

While making such high-stakes decisions, families need to be able to trust their doctor’s information; they need to be able to believe that their recommendations come from genuine empathy to serve only the patient’s interests. This is why prominent bioethicists have long emphasized trustworthiness as a central virtue of good clinicians.

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However, the public’s trust in medical leaders has been on a precipitous decline in recent decades. Historical polling data and surveys show that trust in physicians is lower in the U.S. than in most industrialized countries. A recent survey from Sanofi, a pharmaceutical company, found that mistrust of the medical system is even worse among low-income and minority Americans, who experience discrimination and persistent barriers to care. The COVID-19 pandemic further accelerated the public’s lack of trust.

In the clinic, mistrust can create an untenable situation. Families can feel isolated, lacking support or expertise they can trust. For clinicians, the situation can lead to burnout, affecting quality and access to care as well as health care costs. According to the National Academy of Medicine, “The opportunity to attend to and ease suffering is the reason why many clinicians enter the healing professions.” When doctors see their patients suffer for avoidable reasons, such as mistrust, they often suffer as well.

At a time of low trust, families can be especially reluctant to take advice to end aggressive treatment, which makes the situation worse for everyone.

Ethics of the dilemma

Physicians are not ethically obligated to provide treatments that are of no benefit to the patient, or may even be harmful, even if the family requests them. But it can often be very difficult to say definitively what treatments are beneficial or harmful, as each of those can be characterized differently based on the goals of treatment. In other words, many critical decisions depend on judgment calls.

Consider again the typical case of the 6-month-old child mentioned above who had suffered severe brain injury and was not expected to survive. The clinicians told the ethics review committee that even if the child were to miraculously survive, he would never be able to communicate or reach any “normal” milestones. The child’s mother, however, insisted on keeping him alive. So, the committee had to recommend continuing life support to respect the parent’s right to decide.

Physicians inform, recommend and engage in shared decision-making with families to help clarify their values and preferences. But if there’s mistrust, the process can quickly break down, resulting in misunderstandings and conflicts about the patient’s best interests and making a difficult situation more distressing. https://www.youtube.com/embed/MY4e4l-eAFk?wmode=transparent&start=0 Moral distress in health care.

Moral distress

When clinicians feel unable to provide what they believe to be the best care for patients, it can result in what bioethicists call “moral distress.” The term was coined in 1984 in nursing ethics to describe the experience of nurses who were forced to provide treatments that they felt were inappropriate. It is now widely invoked in health care.

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Numerous studies have shown that levels of moral distress among clinicians are high, with 58% of pediatric and neonatal intensive care clinicians in a study experiencing significant moral distress. While these studies have identified various sources of moral distress, having to provide aggressive life support despite feeling that it’s not in the patient’s interest is consistently among the most frequent and intense.

Watching a patient suffer feels like a dereliction of duty to many health care workers. But as long as they are appropriately respecting the patient’s right to decide – or a parent’s, in the case of a minor – they are not violating their professional duty, as my colleagues and I argued in a recent paper. Doctors sometimes express their distress as a feeling of guilt, of “having blood on their hands,” but, we argue, they are not guilty of any wrongdoing. In most cases, the distress shows that they’re not indifferent to what the decision may mean for the patient.

Clinicians, however, need more support. Persistent moral distresses that go unaddressed can lead to burnout, which may cause clinicians to leave their practice. In a large American Medical Association survey, 35.7% of physicians in 2022-23 expressed an intent to leave their practice within two years.

But with the right support, we also argued, feelings of moral distress can be an opportunity to reflect on what they can control in the circumstance. It can also be a time to find ways to improve the care doctors provide, including communication and building trust. Institutions can help by strengthening ethics consultation services and providing training and support for managing complex cases.

Difficult and distressing decisions, such as the case of the 6-month-old child, are ubiquitous in health care. Patients, their families and clinicians need to be able to trust each other to sustain high-quality care.

Daniel T. Kim, Assistant Professor of Bioethics, Albany Medical College

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

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Patrick Megonigal, Smithsonian Institution

Firefighters battling the deadly wildfires that raced through the Los Angeles area in January 2025 have been hampered by a limited supply of freshwater. So, when the winds are calm enough, skilled pilots flying planes aptly named Super Scoopers are skimming off 1,500 gallons of seawater at a time and dumping it with high precision on the fires.

Using seawater to fight fires can sound like a simple solution – the Pacific Ocean has a seemingly endless supply of water. In emergencies like Southern California is facing, it’s often the only quick solution, though the operation can be risky amid ocean swells.

But seawater also has downsides.

Saltwater corrodes firefighting equipment and may harm ecosystems, especially those like the chaparral shrublands around Los Angeles that aren’t normally exposed to seawater. Gardeners know that small amounts of salt – added, say, as fertilizer – does not harm plants, but excessive salts can stress and kill plants.

While the consequences of adding seawater to ecosystems are not yet well understood, we can gain insights on what to expect by considering the effects of sea-level rise.

A seawater experiment in a coastal forest

As an ecosystem ecologist at the Smithsonian Environmental Research Center, I lead a novel experiment called TEMPEST that was designed to understand how and why historically salt-free coastal forests react to their first exposures to salty water.

Sea-level rise has increased by an average of about 8 inches globally over the past century, and that water has pushed salty water into U.S. forests, farms and neighborhoods that had previously known only freshwater. As the rate of sea-level rise accelerates, storms push seawater ever farther onto the dry land, eventually killing trees and creating ghost forests, a result of climate change that is widespread in the U.S. and globally.

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In our TEMPEST test plots, we pump salty water from the nearby Chesapeake Bay into tanks, then sprinkle it on the forest soil surface fast enough to saturate the soil for about 10 hours at a time. This simulates a surge of salty water during a big storm.

Our coastal forest showed little effect from the first 10-hour exposure to salty water in June 2022 and grew normally for the rest of the year. We increased the exposure to 20 hours in June 2023, and the forest still appeared mostly unfazed, although the tulip poplar trees were drawing water from the soil more slowly, which may be an early warning signal.

Things changed after a 30-hour exposure in June 2024. The leaves of tulip poplar in the forests started to brown in mid-August, several weeks earlier than normal. By mid-September the forest canopy was bare, as if winter had set in. These changes did not occur in a nearby plot that we treated the same way, but with freshwater rather than seawater.

The initial resilience of our forest can be explained in part by the relatively low amount of salt in the water in this estuary, where water from freshwater rivers and a salty ocean mix. Rain that fell after the experiments in 2022 and 2023 washed salts out of the soil.

But a major drought followed the 2024 experiment, so salts lingered in the soil then. The trees’ longer exposure to salty soils after our 2024 experiment may have exceeded their ability to tolerate these conditions.

Seawater being dumped on the Southern California fires is full-strength, salty ocean water. And conditions there have been very dry, particularly compared with our East Coast forest plot.

Changes evident in the ground

Our research group is still trying to understand all the factors that limit the forest’s tolerance to salty water, and how our results apply to other ecosystems such as those in the Los Angeles area.

Tree leaves turning from green to brown well before fall was a surprise, but there were other surprises hidden in the soil below our feet.

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Rainwater percolating through the soil is normally clear, but about a month after the first and only 10-hour exposure to salty water in 2022, the soil water turned brown and stayed that way for two years. The brown color comes from carbon-based compounds leached from dead plant material. It’s a process similar to making tea.

Our lab experiments suggest that salt was causing clay and other particles to disperse and move about in the soil. Such changes in soil chemistry and structure can persist for many years.

Sea-level rise is increasing coastal exposure

While ocean water can help fight fires, there are reasons fire officials prefer freshwater sources – provided freshwater is available.

U.S. coastlines, meanwhile, are facing more extensive and frequent saltwater exposure as rising global temperatures accelerate sea-level rise that drowns forests, fields and farms, with unknown risks for coastal landscapes.

Patrick Megonigal, Associate Director of Research, Smithsonian Environmental Research Center, Smithsonian Institution

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

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