By Adam Castillo, Asia Contributor
Often cited as the world’s worst man-made environmental disaster in history, the near disappearance of the Aral Sea—once the world’s fourth largest inland lake—has received some much deserved attention in recent years. Though most of the damage that has been done is deemed irreversible, it seems that enough concern for the survival of what remains of the once massive lake has prompted action that has not only stopped but reversed the receding waters, creating for those who once depended on the Aral a sense of hope for the first time in decades.
The Soviet Union, with its vision of strict self-reliance, set out to create through a series of programs its very own self-contained agricultural revolution. The arid steppes of Central Asia were designated for crops such as rice, wheat, and cotton—harvests necessary for the production of commodities vital for the maintenance of Soviet society. In order to create large swatches of arable land suitable for such cultivation, it was determined that the Amu Darya and the Syr Darya, the two rivers feeding the Aral Sea, would be diverted to irrigate the surrounding desert lands of the USSR’s Kazakh and Uzbek protectorates—today’s independent nations of Kazakhstan and Uzbekistan.
This project has been a proven success in terms of yield, over time establishing the region as an important global breadbasket. Today, Kazakhstan is among the world’s leaders in cereal production. Uzbekistan is now the world’s sixth largest producer of cotton and second largest cotton exporter. The success of these crops however, has come at detrimental costs.
In 1960 the Aral Lake spanned an area of approximately 68,000 square kilometers—around 26,250 square miles. Due to the diversion of its sources, by 2007 the Aral was a mere 10% of its original size. The receding waters have exposed hundreds of miles of lakebed that has partitioned what remains into three separate bodies, the North Aral or the Small Aral Sea, and the South or Large Aral Sea, which itself is now comprised of two separate basins.
The lakebed, which is now a salt-flat desert, is strewn with skeletons of abandoned fishing boats, remnants of an industry that once supported more than 60,000 people who lived and worked on the busy shore line that existed a hundred miles away from were the water’s edge is today. Once home to 24 native species of fish and capable of providing local fishermen with annual catches of over 40,000 metric tons, the Aral has since become unable to support life. Since 1960 its salinity levels have risen by 600% and industrial runoff and contamination from nearby Soviet Era weapons testing facilities have poisoned what little water remains.
The effects, however, go far beyond what even this post-apocalyptic imagery might suggest. The disappearance of the lake has drastically changed the climate and weather patterns of the region. Summers are now dryer and shorter and winters are longer and colder. Rain clouds that formed from evaporated lake water no longer accumulate, accelerating the process of desertification. This has resulted in a drastic reduction in the length of the vegetative season and decreased pasture productivity by almost half.
Salt, pollutants, and other hazardous chemicals that are blown unimpeded from the lakebed into surrounding areas or used intentionally to fertilize cotton crops affect the integrity of soil and food sources and compromise the health of those who live nearby. The Aral Sea region now has higher death and infant mortality rates than any other part of the former Soviet Union and incidents of cancer are disproportionally high and still on the rise.
This irrigation plan, which began in the 1940s, was in essence a rudimentary canal system that was inefficient and mismanaged. Experts estimate that due to the structural flaws in the canals, up to 60% of the water diverted from the Amu Darya and the Syr Darya over the past several decades was lost to evaporation and leaks, suggesting that this catastrophe is a case of negligence and was indeed preventable.
The government of Kazakhstan, home to the North Aral Sea, has in recent years taken steps to prevent the total disappearance of the small portion of the lake that remains within its borders. In 2005, thanks to an $86 million loan from the World Bank, they were able to construct the Kok-Aral Dam, which now separates the North Aral, which is fed by the Syr Darya, from the larger, more polluted southern portions, which lie across the border in Uzbekistan. Since the construction of the dam the North Aral has seen incredible improvements, increasing in size by nearly 40% according to Kazakh officials. Fish have returned and so have fishermen inspired by the 2,000 tons caught just last year. A second phase of the World Bank financed dam project reportedly costing nearly $300 million is scheduled to get underway sometime in 2009. Experts project that with the second dam’s completion, by 2010 the waters in the North Aral will reach ports they have not touched in more than 30 years.
In contrast, the Uzbek government has shown little interest in investing in what remains of the South Aral. To their credit, it appears to be a bad investment; the lake is too far gone for any hopes of redemption. Though the groundwork for this calamity was laid during the Soviet reign, 50% of the lake’s volume was lost between 1990 and 2000. Of course, there are a number of reasons one could present for why this happened; the crumbling of the Soviet Union and the ensuing economic crises that gripped its former states; the boom in the region’s agricultural sector, which unlike the 60,000 people supported by the Aral fishing industry, supports more than two million people and, in fact, a nation’s economy; a simple lack of resources and inability to administer in rural areas; or the intentional turning of a blind eye. Whatever the case—and they could all be the case—the devastating effects of neglecting the Aral were overlooked and will be long-lasting.
