Spain's Water Crisis: Ebro Reservoirs Full While Catalonia Dries

Debate on drought and Ebro water

Can one autonomous community run out of water while the rest of the Ebro basin has abundant reserves? The debate highlights an uncomfortable paradox. According to circulating figures, the Ribarroja reservoir, located on the Ebro before reaching the delta, is at 90% capacity, and Mequinenza at 78%. At the other end, the Sau reservoir, which supplies Barcelona, stands at 4%, and Susqueda at 20%. For some participants, the drought is not a problem of water scarcity in Spain, but of where that water is located and who has the right to use it.

The hydrological map central to the debate

Comparing basins is the most repeated argument. While the Ter-Llobregat system reservoirs serving Barcelona and its metropolitan area are at critical levels, the large dams in the Ebro basin maintain much higher reserves. The Yesa reservoir, at the headwaters of the Ebro, is at 90%, according to the same data. Some participants conclude that the problem is not a lack of rain, but management and infrastructure.

Some argue that Catalonia has prioritized investments in embassies, public television, and linguistic immersion over water infrastructure for years. A circulating calculation is stark: it speaks of 6 million Catalans having their water cut off while money goes elsewhere. The desalination plant in Sagunto, in the Valencian Community, has become the symbol of this contradiction: a Valencian infrastructure that, according to these voices, could end up sending water to Barcelona.

The ghost of the transfer and the water war

The shadow of the National Hydrological Plan (PHN) looms over the entire debate. In 2003, José María Aznar’s government approved an Ebro water transfer that was never executed. With Zapatero coming to power in 2004, the repeal of the PHN became political currency. Convergència i Unió, then governing in Catalonia, had not shown special interest in the project, but the new socialist executive scrapped it within days. Desalination plants were presented as the definitive alternative.

Two decades later, those desalination plants operate at 15% of their capacity, although they supply 40% of Murcia’s drinking water. This data, drawn from journalistic reports, fuels the thesis that Spanish water policy has been built on patches and improvisations, not a coherent plan. For some, the current drought is not a climatic anomaly, but the result of political decisions that prioritized the short term.

Solidarity, plunder, and the return of victimhood

The argument for inter-territorial solidarity has two sides. One part of the analysis holds that if Catalonia had to send water to the Valencian Community or Murcia, the central government would accuse these regions of waste and poor management, while the Generalitat would speak of plunder and repeat the mantra that Spain robs Catalonia. Since the flow is reversed, it is time to be silent and solidary. According to this school of thought, the asymmetry of the narrative is evident.

At the other extreme, some defend that hatred towards Catalonia is reasonable but mistaken, because there are many Spaniards in Catalonia who suffer the consequences of pro-independence policies. The distinction between the political class and the population is a nuance that repeats itself. Not all Catalans are separatists, and many who are not, according to this view, look away instead of confronting nationalism.

From cava to Cacaolat: a catalog of imaginative solutions

The tone of the debate turns grotesque when listing supposed contributions. There is talk of sending tanker ships with kalimotxo from Bilbao, exporting pole, having Catalans drink cava or Cacaolat, or making infusions with esteladas flags. The drought becomes a recurring joke, a way to process territorial tension. Behind the humor lies a serious underlying issue: the feeling that the water problem is a symptom of a deeper political conflict.

The most repeated irony is that amnesty will end the drought. Jokes suggest that the former Catalan president, from his residence in Belgium, will perform the miracle of the loaves and fishes, or rather, of clouds and storms. It is dark humor about an uncomfortable reality: Catalan politics has been entrenched in confrontation for years, leaving basic management in the background.

What happens if it doesn’t rain in Catalonia?

The short answer is that restrictions will tighten. The Sau and Susqueda reservoirs, which supply much of the Barcelona metropolitan area, are at levels that do not allow much more waiting. Desalination plants can cover part of the demand, but their capacity is limited and their energy cost high. The alternative of a transfer from the Ebro remains on the table, but any government proposing it will face frontal opposition from pro-independence groups, who will label it as plunder.

The paradox is that water abounds in some basins and is scarce in others. The Ebro Delta, which gives its name to the conflict, is the symbol of a broken balance. The Ribarroja and Mequinenza dams could alleviate Barcelona’s thirst, but doing so would require a political agreement that seems impossible today. Meanwhile, the rain keeps falling where it is not needed. Not intentionally.