Reviving Qanats to Quench Iran’s Thirst

Date: 30 July 2025 - 21:38

News ID: ۱۴۲۰۲۶

TEHRAN -- Amidst Iran’s pressing water crisis, a voice from the arid heartlands of Kerman calls not for innovation, but for remembrance.
Amin Mahani, director of the Gohar-riz-e Joupar Iranian Qanat World Heritage Site, is among a growing chorus of experts urging a national return to an ancient, indigenous solution: the qanat.
Qanats—ingenious underground aqueducts that channel groundwater from mountainous mother wells to arid plains—have shaped Iran’s agricultural and cultural landscapes for over two millennia.
Unlike deep wells or industrial water systems, qanats draw water sustainably, relying on gravity rather than energy-intensive pumping. They represent not only engineering marvels but deeply rooted social and ecological systems.
“There is no water shortage,” Mahani insists. “What we have is a management crisis, and a failure to protect our civilizational heritage.”
His warning is stark: Iran has drilled nearly one million wells in recent decades—placing immense strain on subterranean aquifers—while 40,000 qanats, quieter and far more sustainable, languish under neglect.
Gohar-riz-e Joupar, with a documented history of over 600 years, is one of eleven qanats inscribed on UNESCO’s World Heritage List in 2016 under the collective file The Persian Qanat.
Its waters still flow, nourishing 300 hectares of agricultural land and connecting six historical neighborhoods in Joupar. According to Mahani, its output fluctuates between 60 and 240 liters per second—evidence of remarkable stability in a climate increasingly prone to drought.
Yet the qanat is more than a hydraulic structure. It is a living cultural landscape. Its presence has shaped urban planning, social organization, religious rituals, and economic systems for centuries.
“Qanats are like cooperative companies,” Mahani explains. “They have stakeholders, share systems, managers, even local rituals tied to their maintenance and flow.”
A traditional council of stakeholders—farmers, technicians (muqannīs), water distributors (mīrābs), and community elders—oversees cleaning, repairs, and water distribution.
Even the terminology reflects this social embeddedness: at the maqsum, or water division point, water is allocated according to familial or communal shares. Festivals like Āb-Āsh, still celebrated in Joupar during Muharram, underscore the qanat’s place in spiritual and seasonal life.
Preservation efforts continue, but challenges remain. While annual budgets from Iran’s Ministry of Cultural Heritage, Tourism, and Handicrafts have enabled partial restoration—such as repairing the earthen walls of Joupar’s historical core and completing pedestrian pathways near the qanat’s outflow—Mahani notes that underfunding and unchecked development threaten long-term sustainability.
Urban sprawl, misguided agriculture, and demographic pressure have upended traditional land-use models. “We’ve disrupted seasonal livelihoods, destroyed 1,000-year-old orchards, and replaced self-sufficiency with dependence and overextraction,” he laments. “If we continue, we’re not only drying up water—we’re erasing our resilience.”
Today, Gohar-riz stands not only as a testament to ancient ingenuity but also as a model for future sustainability.
“Qanats are the last bastion of water resilience on the Iranian plateau,” Mahani says. “In an age of climate upheaval, they remind us that the answers may lie not ahead—but beneath our feet, quietly flowing for centuries.”