Every Thursday at noon, outside the west door of Valencia’s cathedral, nine black-cloaked figures – one wearing a banded cap and with a ceremonial harpoon by their side – gather for their weekly meeting, as they have done for hundreds of years. This is the Tribunal de les Aigües (Tribunal of Waters) – a water court that may be the oldest institution of justice in Europe.
It may seem like a relic of the past, but in fact, in the midst of a global water crisis, the tribunal is more relevant than ever. We are a civilisation at risk of committing aquacide. Due to droughts caused by climate change, expanding industrial agriculture and growing urbanisation, one in every four people will be affected by water scarcity over coming decades, with cities from Los Angeles and Cairo to Melbourne and São Paulo facing acute shortages. Water conflicts are on the rise, both within and between nations – we are increasingly fighting over water rather than oil and land. Moreover, in countries such as the UK, private water companies are jacking up prices and siphoning off super-profits while dumping sewage in the rivers.
Yet there is hope to be found in that old Spanish ritual. Each member of the Tribunal of Waters is a representative of one of the local irrigation canals that provide water for the city’s rich agricultural hinterland, and has been democratically elected by farmers. The tribunal ensures that the scarce waters are shared fairly and holds public hearings where farmers who have taken more than their agreed allocation, or failed to take care of their canal, may be fined.
The tribunal ranks among the most remarkable examples of democratic resource self-management in the world, although its origins are shrouded in mystery. As one of its attendants told me when I visited recently, it may be rooted in sophisticated water-management systems that emerged in Valencia after the Islamic conquest of Spain in the 8th century, when farmers dug irrigation canals to grow olives, nuts, aubergines and fruit. When the region was reconquered by Christians in 1238, they adopted the existing rules to settle water disputes. By the 15th century, the regular meetings outside the cathedral’s Door of the Apostles had been firmly established.
It is, of course, not a perfect system. The tribunal is backed up by hired guards who make sure nobody steals water from their neighbours. And when I asked the attendant why the tribunal members were all elderly men – some of whom found it hard to get up the cathedral stairs – he replied a little defensively that these lifelong farmers were great repositories of knowledge and that the first woman had been elected in 2011.
The very longevity of the Tribunal of Waters is, however, a signal of its success. Every time you bite into a juicy Valencia orange, remember that you are the beneficiary of 1,000 years of dedicated communal water governance.
The tribunal was of special interest to Elinor Ostrom, winner of the Nobel prize for economics in 2009, who considered it an ideal example of “the commons”, where communities around the world have devised rules for sustainably sharing and managing their scarce resources, from waterways to fisheries to forests. It is a direct counter to the mistaken idea of the “tragedy of the commons”: the belief that, left to our own devices, self-interest will necessarily drive us towards overusing shared resources. Examples like Valencia, as well as the water boards (waterschappen) in the Netherlands that manage canals and Bali’s subak system that has functioned to share water among rice farmers for the last millennium, reveal this to be a myth.
So what are the lessons for today? Britain’s Labour government says it will not nationalise the failing water companies but just put them into “special measures”. Yet why not consider more innovative solutions like Valencia-style community management of water, or at the very least giving local stakeholders a seat on company boards?
It’s a model that can also be scaled up. Take, for instance, the International Commission for the Protection of the Danube River (ICPDR), which for 81 million people in 19 countries manages the waters of the Danube river basin, flowing from the Black Forest into the Black Sea. While playing a useful role in bringing together public officials, scientists and civil society organisations to control pollution and flooding, the ICPDR could be given a true democratic commons design by integrating a regional citizens’ assembly that holds it to account.
Valencia’s water court may even hold lessons for the parched countries of the Middle East. More than a decade ago, leading Palestinian hydrologist Abdelrahman Al Tamimi suggested they should “import and adapt the model of the Tribunal of Waters … not only to resolve conflicts between farmers, but to reduce tensions between Israelis, Palestinians and Jordanians”. Without such mechanisms, he believed, there was little chance of developing the grassroots trust and dialogue to manage water scarcity effectively. “We can fight for water or cooperate for it – it depends on us,” said Tamimi. “The first step is to trust each other.” The current conflict has only heightened the need for long-term water collaboration.
Our blue planet may be 71% covered in water, but the name is deceptive: of every 10,000 drops of water on Earth, less than one is accessible freshwater found in rivers and lakes. The living history of the Tribunal of Waters may offer the hope we need for global water justice to fairly distribute and preserve such a precious resource that is a common treasury for all.
History for Tomorrow by Roman Krznaric (Ebury Publishing, £22). To support the Guardian and Observer, order your copy at guardianbookshop.com. Delivery charges may apply.
