In a lakeside community in Tanzania, local leaders explained a dilemma that has no easy answer. As I listened to my colleagues share their experience of Lake Bassotu, it rings familiar with watersheds here in the Ottawa Valley. The lake, once a steady source of life, has swelled in recent years with floods brought by unpredictable rains, shoreline erosion, and land use surrounding the lake. Under local bylaws, no one is permitted to build or farm within 60 metres of the shoreline. But as the lake rises, the boundary shifts, the rules tighten, and the available farmland shrinks even more.
One man had already lost his fields and half his income. He wasn’t asking for international negotiations on “loss and damage.” He was asking how he would feed his family and maintain his livelihood next year.
This scene, and the conversations around it, have stayed with me since returning from Tanzania earlier this month. I was there as part of the Behavioural Adaptation for Water Security and Inclusion project, part of the Climate Adaptation and REsilience (CLARE) programme. CLARE is a flagship research programme on climate adaptation and resilience, funded mostly (about 90 percent) by UK Aid through the Foreign, Commonwealth and Development Office (FCDO), and co-funded by the International Development Research Centre (IDRC), Canada. CLARE bridges critical gaps between science and action by championing Southern leadership to enable socially inclusive and sustainable action to build resilience to climate change and natural hazards.
Connecting social and psychological science with climate adaptation and water management can be complex work. But at its core, it asks a simple question: How do people actually adapt in response to a changing climate, and what helps them do it sustainably?
What struck me most in those meetings was not the data or models, but the power of local knowledge. The people who live these realities every day understand adaptation better than anyone. They already innovate, negotiate, and compromise in real time, often with limited resources. Yet too often, decisions about funding, research, and priorities still flow from the Global North, shaped by frameworks that don’t always fit local contexts.
The traditional power dynamics of donor and recipient countries are shifting, but our systems haven’t caught up. In global development, we tend to still measure process more than impact, outputs more than outcomes. Our measures of success need to balance the economic priorities of the global north and south while targeting the consequences borne by regions and countries most often left behind.
That must change. We must define impact to address such consequences.
If there was one lesson from this trip, it’s that water sits at the centre of everything. When the lake’s quality declines, the water treatment plant downstream, which WaterAid helped establish, falters. When rainfall data is collected and shared, as farmers are doing in Burkina Faso, entire communities can plan when to plant crops, reducing conflict over scarce water resources and improving food security. Water connects health, climate, gender equality, and the economy. It is the “blue thread” that runs through every goal of sustainable development.
This idea, the centrality of water, is not just a development principle. It’s a blueprint for stability and prosperity, both abroad and here at home.
WaterAid’s research shows that every dollar invested in safe water, sanitation and hygiene could generate up to 21 times more value than expenditure in economic and social benefits. Clean water keeps healthcare systems functioning, prevents disease outbreaks, and frees up time, especially for women, to participate in education and economic life. Globally, 90 percent of natural disasters are water-related, and the World Bank estimates that water scarcity could shrink GDP by up to 6 percent in some regions by 2050.
Inaction costs far more than prevention. A lack of climate-resilient water and sanitation infrastructure, and governance systems to support their sustained use, fuels instability, displacement, and humanitarian crises that inevitably reach global shores. When we invest early, we prevent the emergencies that later demand billions in aid and response.
As world leaders and policy thinkers gather in Brazil for COP30, they are expected to deliberate, and ideally adopt, new indicators for the Global Goal on Adaptation that, for the first time, include water and sanitation among its core targets.
We must move beyond the question of if we will invest in global water security, to how we will do it — effectively, equitably, and with measurable results.
As I reflect on my time in Tanzania, I keep returning to one thought: behind every policy, every acronym, every international conference, there are real people. Their stories rarely make it into summit speeches or budget documents. But they are the measure of whether our systems work.
We cannot allow global policy on water and climate to become detached from the human realities it is meant to address. The farmer by the lake in Tanzania doesn’t care about process, he cares about outcomes. And so should we.
As Prime Minister Carney, and Minister Champagne deliver this government’s first budget, they must know that Canada’s investment in water is not just about pipes, pumps, or policies. It’s about building resilience in communities abroad and in the systems we rely on for a stable, secure world. Water is the thread that connects us all. And for millions of people facing a changing climate, water cannot wait. Canada’s leadership is as critical as ever.
This article draws on work supported by UK Aid from the UK government and by the International Development Research Centre, Ottawa, Canada, as part of the CLARE (Climate Adaptation and Resilience) research programme. The views expressed herein do not necessarily represent those of the UK government, IDRC or its Board of Governors. Learn more about CLARE.
Julie Truelove, Head of Policy and Advocacy, WaterAid Canada