1. Introduction
Artificial ice reservoirs (AIRs) have emerged as climate adaptation technologies to cope with the insufficiency and seasonal unavailability of water in the cryospheric environments of Ladakh, India. While climate change is affecting the availability, distribution, and quality of water worldwide (Mills-Novoa et al., Reference Mills-Novoa, Boelens, Hoogesteger and Letcher2022), hydrology in cryospheric environments is especially affected (Rasul & Molden, Reference Rasul and Molden2019). In response to these challenges, adaptation solutions are increasingly advanced through technologies that can create or deepen existing water inequalities, reshaping the way water flows and is managed, although some solutions do provide space for positive action (Budds & Sultana, Reference Budds and Sultana2013; Mills-Novoa et al., Reference Mills-Novoa, Boelens, Hoogesteger and Letcher2022). In the era of climate change, it is now increasingly pertinent to study those technologies that are positioned and promoted as climate adaptation solutions to uncover the power relations that are enmeshed within these technologies (Budds & Sultana, Reference Budds and Sultana2013). In this paper, we study these dynamics that are particularly visible in high-altitude regions where climate and cryospheric changes have prompted technological interventions such as AIRs to address seasonal and worsening water scarcity, affecting irrigated agriculture.
The Himalayan region contains large reservoirs of freshwater in the form of glaciers, snow, and permafrost, feeding several river basins, giving it the name ‘Third Pole’ (Soheb et al., Reference Soheb, Bastian, Schmidt, Singh, Kaushik, Ramanathan and Nüsser2024; Wester et al., Reference Wester, Chettri, Jackson, Maharajan, Nepal and Steiner2023). Several studies have shown that climate change has had a massive impact on the Himalayan region, leading to accelerated glacier melting, declining snow cover, unpredictable precipitation patterns, and permafrost thaw that have effects on regional hydrology (Bolch, Reference Bolch2019; Bolch et al., Reference Bolch, Kulkarni, Kääb, Huggel, Paul, Cogley, Frey, Kargel, Fujita, Scheel, Bajracharya and Stoffel2012; Schmidt & Nüsser, Reference Schmidt and Nüsser2012, Reference Schmidt and Nüsser2017; Wester et al., Reference Wester, Chettri, Jackson, Maharajan, Nepal and Steiner2023). This affects the provision of water for drinking and agriculture and can affect water and food security for upstream and downstream communities (Dame & Nüsser, Reference Dame and Nüsser2011).
The cryosphere-fed irrigation network in Ladakh has always been prone to water scarcity in spring (Schmidt & Nüsser, Reference Schmidt, Nüsser, Humbert-droz, Dame and Morup2023). Depending on the altitude, some villages in Ladakh begin irrigation with complete flooding of the fields between March and April, prior to the melting of the high-altitude glaciers (Balasubramanian et al., Reference Balasubramanian, Hoelzle and Waser2023), which can be further delayed following extended cloudy periods (Nüsser, Dame, Kraus, et al., Reference Nüsser, Dame, Kraus, Baghel and Schmidt2019). This creates a situation wherein there is an increased demand for water during a period of reduced supply at the beginning of the agricultural season, especially between March and May (Ibid.). However, climate change has produced environmental shifts that have resulted in increased temperatures, changes in annual levels of precipitation, and melting glaciers and snowfields at high altitudes, which have had major effects on overall water availability for agriculture (Bajracharya et al., Reference Bajracharya, Mool and Shrestha2008; Dawa et al., Reference Dawa, Dana, Namgyal, Chalise and Banskota2000; Malone, Reference Malone2010; Norphel & Tashi, Reference Norphel, Tashi, Nibanupudi and Shaw2015). As consequences of even small climatic shifts and changes in the cryosphere influence water storage and run-off (Schmidt & Nüsser, Reference Schmidt and Nüsser2017), important for the functioning of irrigated agriculture, these environmental shifts have over time created further challenges concerning water availability for performing irrigated agriculture in Ladakh (Norphel & Tashi, Reference Norphel, Tashi, Nibanupudi and Shaw2015).
To cope with this insufficiency and seasonal unavailability of water, and extended challenges concerning water availability for agriculture, adaptive technologies for meltwater management and distribution have been introduced (Nüsser, Dame, Parveen, et al., Reference Nüsser, Dame, Parveen, Kraus, Baghel and Schmidt2019). One such adaptation technique is AIRs, of which ‘artificial glaciers’ and ‘ice stupas’ are two forms (Clouse, Reference Clouse2016). These technologies do not exist in a vacuum. They exist alongside traditional water infrastructures that are operated and maintained by traditional institutions of water governance. In this paper, we argue that climate adaptation solutions, such as AIRs, are intertwined with inherently political processes, although the literature often portrays these interventions and solutions in technical, apolitical, and economic terms (Budds & Sultana, Reference Budds and Sultana2013; Islar et al., Reference Islar, Johansson, Sinisalo and Gómez-baggethun2025; Mukherji et al., Reference Mukherji, Sinisalo, Nüsser, Garrard and Eriksson2019). With a complex network of actors involved in the innovation and development of these technologies, it becomes pertinent to uncover the plural objectives and complementary or conflicting dynamics that emerge between actors (Gonda, Reference Gonda and Gonda2026; Vos & Hinojosa, Reference Vos and Hinojosa2016), especially to understand how these technologies are developed, adopted, and implemented by different actors. Water-related development, especially in the Global South, must be understood as having uneven and complex socio-natural power relations that affect the lives and opportunities of billions (Budds & Sultana, Reference Budds and Sultana2013). Thus, a critical reflection of how ‘hydrosocial relations’ are produced and transformed in cryospheric environments through AIR technologies that are aimed at providing water during scarce seasons is required.
While existing research on hydrosocial relations in Ladakh has focused on traditional water management practices (Kumar & Saizen, Reference Kumar and Saizen2023), the role of ‘place’ in the constitution of hydrosocial relationships (Sharma, Reference Sharma2019), and on urban mountain waterscapes (Müller et al., Reference Müller, Dame and Nüsser2020), our research offers different analytical, empirical, and theoretical contributions. The analytical contributions of this paper seek to understand AIRs, specifically ice stupas, as a climate adaptation technology by conceptualising these technologies as being situated within a hydrosocial cycle and as (re)configuring hydrosocial relations. It also presents certain limitations of AIRs, not previously discussed in the literature, that influence the adoption and implementation of these technologies. Empirically, we take ice stupas in rural Ladakh as a case with a focus on the hydrosocial relations between actors in multi-scalar networks. We undertake this study by using political ecology perspectives on water and by using hydrosocial theory. By using qualitative methods, we answer the following research questions: How are hydrosocial relations (re)configured in the development, adoption, and implementation of climate adaptation technologies such as AIRs in Ladakh? What role does social power play in these processes? In doing so, our research contributes to the growing literature on the political ecology of water governance, water-related development interventions, and climate adaptation solutions in cryospheric environments.
2. Background: water governance and AIR technologies in Ladakh
The high-altitude semi-arid Trans-Himalayan region of Ladakh lies in the upper Indus basin at the western edge of the Himalayas. Communities in Ladakh largely depend on meltwater discharge from cryospheric sources for irrigated agriculture (Nüsser et al., Reference Nüsser, Schmidt and Dame2012). Nestled between the Karakoram and Great Himalayan Mountain ranges, Ladakh experiences a rain shadow effect, with mean annual precipitation in Leh, the capital city of Ladakh, located at 3506 m a.s.l. (above sea level), totalling less than 100 mm (Ibid.). Due to Ladakh's semi-arid conditions and comparatively high temperatures in this region, glaciers in central Ladakh are relatively small and are located at altitudes above 5200 m a.s.l. (Schmidt & Nüsser, Reference Schmidt and Nüsser2012). Despite their small size, the water stored in these glaciers is important for irrigated agriculture, which is the main source of livelihood in rural parts of Ladakh (Ibid.). While most of the snow input into the glacial system occurs in winter, some precipitation may fall in the summer at higher altitudes (Ibid.).
Rural resource governance in Ladakh, including water governance and distribution, is maintained by traditional governance systems known as the goba and churpon systems. The goba, who is the head of the village, oversees all village matters, including maintaining customary laws and organising cultural events, and communication between households, between different villages, with the monastery, and government agencies (Ladon & Garkoti, Reference Ladon and Garkoti2024). The goba also presides over the management of resources under their governance, such as common land, agriculture and water access, and community pasture lands. They are also responsible for keeping a record of the various government schemes introduced in the village and a list of which village member has received which scheme. Churpon, or ‘water lord’ in Ladakhi, is the person who presides over the management of water in villages and is elected in the same vein as the goba, by consensus of the village members. The churpon works under the goba and is responsible for the distribution of the snowmelt and glacier stream water to every household in the village (Angchok & Singh, Reference Angchok and Singh2006; Kumar & Saizen, Reference Kumar and Saizen2023). The churpon is responsible for deciding from which side of the village the water distribution will begin, how the water will flow, and even if it is across villages or from one zing (reservoir) to the next. While not all villages have a churpon, for example, Phyang and Takmachik do not have a churpon, all villages will have a goba. A village might not have a churpon as they have an abundance of water, and those villages that experience water stress are more likely to elect a churpon (Bajpai et al., Reference Bajpai, Kothari, Namgail, Sonam and Deachen2022). When a village does not have a churpon, the decisions regarding water management are made through the chhurez system, wherein the goba is responsible for the equitable distribution of water in the village and, in this regard, differs from the churpon system (Ladon & Garkoti, Reference Ladon and Garkoti2024), or a system in which water is distributed through a common understanding amongst the villagers, as is the case in Phyang.
National-level policies have also been introduced in Ladakh to provide drinking water supply. Notably, the Jal Jeevan Mission (JJM), a national-level policy, was introduced by the Indian government in 2019, with the vision of providing adequate quantities of drinking water supply on a regular and long-term basis to every rural household and public institution through functional tap connections. In Ladakh, although the focus of JJM is limited to drinking water, it lies outside the purview of the traditional local governance systems and, thus, does not carry any of the existing water rights and norms (Kumar & Saizen, Reference Kumar and Saizen2023). Under this scheme, new infrastructure has been installed to supply drinking water to households, including pipes and borewells; in some villages, solar panels have been installed to harvest solar energy to pump groundwater up using borewells (such as in Phey). In some instances, JJM pipes are also installed near the same source of water used for irrigation. The operational guidelines of JJM mention the challenges in operation in high-mountain cold desert regions such as Ladakh, including the freezing of pipelines in winter and recommend solutions that include using the traditional water harvesting infrastructure of zing and the creation of AIRs.
AIRs are water harvesting structures and frozen design interventions that act as adaptive technologies to address the seasonal unavailability of water and challenges concerning water availability for agriculture in the cryosphere-fed irrigation network region of Ladakh (Clouse, Reference Clouse2016; Nüsser, Dame, Kraus, et al., Reference Nüsser, Dame, Kraus, Baghel and Schmidt2019). By reducing the velocity of the run-off, which is a hydrological process known as icing, under local conditions of frequent freeze-thaw cycles, AIRs capture water during autumn and winter, freeze it, and release water in the spring season when it flows down to irrigate the fields (Balasubramanian et al., Reference Balasubramanian, Hoelzle and Waser2023; Nüsser, Dame, Kraus, et al., Reference Nüsser, Dame, Kraus, Baghel and Schmidt2019). While glacier grafting, snow and ice harvesting have been practised in Ladakh since historical times (Clouse, Reference Clouse2019), since the 1980s, with the help of various NGOs (Non-Governmental Organisation) and the involvement of local communities, a form of AIR commonly known as ‘artificial glaciers’ was introduced in Ladakh. These artificial glaciers are designed to enhance the natural accumulation of aufeis, that is, the laminated ice accumulations that form as a result of successive freezing of water overflows in winter that seep from the ground, originate from springs, or emerge through cracks from below river or lake ice (Brombierstäudl et al., Reference Brombierstäudl, Schmidt, Soheb and Nüsser2024). In Ladakh, aufeis play a crucial role in coping with spring season scarcity (Ibid.). The artificial glaciers are built on tributaries of the Indus River and consist of small parallel stone walls across the tributaries to store water in the form of ice (aufeis) during winter months (Nüsser et al., Reference Nüsser, Schmidt and Dame2012). They are located above the irrigated fields and below the natural glaciers at altitudes between 3900 and 4600 m a.s.l. With these artificial glaciers, melting starts early in spring due to the lower altitudes at which they are located, increasing water availability for the fields (Ibid.).
A more recent form of AIRs, known as ‘ice stupas’, was introduced in the winter of 2013–14. The name comes from the appropriation of Buddhist religious symbolism that is popular around the region and is an example of how technical innovations can be linked to religious and cultural ideals to advocate for environmental management (Clouse, Reference Clouse2016, Reference Clouse and Geva2023), in this case, of glacier meltwater. Although ice stupas are more technologically and engineering-intensive than artificial glaciers, the basic principles are similar; that is, ice stupas also act as an ice reserve during the winter months, and when the outside temperatures increase during spring and summer, the ice melts and enters channels that divert the water from the valley to the villages located further downstream (Shaheen, Reference Shaheen2016).
The basic design of the ice stupa includes three components: the diversion channel, the metal frame and conical structure which forms the main site, and the distribution channels (Shaheen, Reference Shaheen2016). The diversion channel includes pipes that are laid to bring down the water from the glacier streams to the main site, where it is funnelled through a pipe that is raised well above the ground (Clouse, Reference Clouse2016). The combination of gravity and water pressure pushes the water to exit the pipe, and the water is projected into the cold air in a form similar to that of a sprinkler. Due to the cold temperatures, the water freezes almost immediately on a dome-like structure forming the AIR, an ice stupa (Clouse, Reference Clouse2016). The dome-like structure has a tunnel inside that is used to carry out repairs (Shaheen, Reference Shaheen2016). Ice stupas do not have any fixed form, although they resemble some abstract pyramid or conical shape. More recent versions of this technology include automated systems and monitoring technologies that control the flow of water, ensure precise distribution and optimal conditions for ice formation, track the weather patterns and water levels in real time, enabling adjustments to be made promptly (Balasubramanian et al., Reference Balasubramanian, Hoelzle and Waser2023; Himalayan Institute of Alternatives, Ladakh, n.d.).
Despite the engineering marvels of ice stupas, compared to artificial glaciers, ice stupas store less water (Clouse, Reference Clouse2016). Historically, ice stupa projects have also received criticism due to diverting water away from fields to feed the ice stupa and creating conflicts between upstream and downstream communities, as can be seen in the case of Phey and Phyang (Sharma, Reference Sharma2019). Studies have shown that AIRs, including ice stupas, are unlikely to be effective climate adaptation strategies in the long term due to their dependence on winter freeze-thaw cycles, their ability to only address water stress in the spring season, and their sensitivity to climatic conditions (Nüsser, Dame, Kraus, et al., Reference Nüsser, Dame, Kraus, Baghel and Schmidt2019). Still, there has been increased global attention to ice stupas that are marketed as an innovative local response to climate change through strategic messaging, the use of social media, and international media (Hock et al., Reference Hock, Rasul, Adler, Cáceres, Gruber, Hirabayashi, Jackson, Kääb, Kang, Kutuzov, Milner, Molau, Morin, Orlove, Steltzer, Pörtner, Roberts, Masson-delmotte, Zhai, Tignor, Poloczanska, Mintenbeck, Alegría, Nicolai, Okem, Petzold, Rama and Weyer2019; Sharma, Reference Sharma2019).
3. Theoretical framework: hydrosocial relations in cryosphere environments
Political ecology perspectives on water emphasise the intertwined relationship between the hydrological cycle and the relations of socio-cultural and political-economic power (Bakker, Reference Bakker2000; Swyngedouw, Reference Swyngedouw2009). Early work in this field is linked to critical geographies of water, mostly in urban studies, that identify a productive combination of ‘Marxian understanding of capitalist accumulation and development in correspondence with multifarious theories of power and scale often described as post-structuralist’ (Ross & Chang, Reference Ross and Chang2020, p. 1445). Building on this thinking, hydrosocial research has emerged as a holistic way of understanding water, wherein the hydrological cycle is defined as a socio-natural flow that connects society and nature (Swyngedouw, Reference Swyngedouw2009) and in the process ‘water and society make and remake each other over space and time’ (Linton & Budds, Reference Linton and Budds2014, p. 175).
Using hydrosocial theory to study technologies such as the AIRs and, more specifically, ice stupas, allows us to unpack the social relations and political dynamics of glaciers and meltwater flows in cryospheric environments (Islar et al., Reference Islar, Johansson, Sinisalo and Gómez-baggethun2025). Different from other integrated water studies paradigms based on quantitative studies such as socio-hydrology, hydrosocial studies prioritise qualitative research and in-depth accounts from actors to understand their relationship with water flows and power (Ross & Chang, Reference Ross and Chang2020; Wesselink et al., Reference Wesselink, Kooy and Warner2017). Drawing on the multilayered theories of power, hydrosocial theory helps us to examine how power is exercised by various actors in discursive and material ways within a multi-scalar network (Ibid.). When different agencies overlap, combine, or intervene, a vast and complex network of actors unfolds (Gonda, Reference Gonda and Gonda2026). Thus, we conceptualise that AIRs, including ice stupas, are situated within a hydrosocial cycle that consists of actors embedded in legal-political and social-cultural institutions, technology, and the environment (Boelens et al., Reference Boelens, Hoogesteger, Swyngedouw, Vos and Wester2016; Hommes & Boelens, Reference Hommes and Boelens2017). In the context of AIRs, this includes water users, traditional institutions of resource management and governance, technology developers, NGOs, private donors, and engineers (Kumar & Saizen, Reference Kumar and Saizen2023; Nüsser et al., Reference Nüsser, Schmidt and Dame2012) who influence the circulation of water.
Research also shows that the plural objectives of actors within these multi-scalar networks can create complementary or conflicting dynamics of water governance (Vos & Hinojosa, Reference Vos and Hinojosa2016). Recent studies informed by political ecology perspectives on water highlight value conflicts between different actors and call for a need to integrate plural valuation methods of nature with climate change policies (Islar et al., Reference Islar, Johansson, Sinisalo and Gómez-baggethun2025). Value conflicts can arise when the objectives of those with power (e.g. multinational financing organisations and multinational NGOs) are exercised over local values, imaginaries, and knowledge (Vos & Hinojosa, Reference Vos and Hinojosa2016). For example, in the context of irrigation and glacier changes in Ladakh, Nüsser et al. (Reference Nüsser, Schmidt and Dame2012) show how social and political relations between actors over historical phases of development and irrigation interventions affect the way water is circulated and managed, influencing agricultural livelihoods.
Hydrosocial relations are also produced and transformed through development interventions that provide and manage water (Budds & Sultana, Reference Budds and Sultana2013), which in this case refers to climate adaptation technologies such as AIRs. The varying plans and projections of how to organise AIR technologies within hydrosocial spaces by different actors within the multi-scalar network can influence livelihoods, production, and regional development trajectories (Boelens et al., Reference Boelens, Hoogesteger, Swyngedouw, Vos and Wester2016).
The production of knowledge about water also influences the water infrastructures, rules, rights, and institutions and pushes local users and livelihoods to fit into those imagined power hierarchies operating at multiple scales (Boelens et al., Reference Boelens, Hoogesteger, Swyngedouw, Vos and Wester2016; Nüsser & Baghel, Reference Nüsser, Baghel, Meusburger, Freytag and Suarsana2016). Understanding AIRs and ice stupas as being situated within a hydrosocial cycle can also spotlight the historical, hydrological, political, and technological circumstances that produce a certain meaning and knowledge of ‘water’, or in our case glacier meltwater, and consider what might bring about a change in these understandings (Linton & Budds, Reference Linton and Budds2014). For instance, technology development is often embedded in glaciological knowledge that is co-constituted by gendered discourses of science and knowledge, and colonial, militarised, and geopolitical domination (Carey et al., Reference Carey, Jackson, Antonello and Rushing2016). This can influence resource use, governance, and management in discursive or material ways, often producing unequal outcomes (Carey et al., Reference Carey, Jackson, Antonello and Rushing2016). Further, the physical location of a technology may conflict with already existing water management regimes such as commons or private use rights, as well as ownership mechanisms and user rights in relation to river basins and land (Islar, Reference Islar2012).
4. Methods
This study uses a qualitative case study approach to examine how hydrosocial relations are (re)configured in the development, adoption, and implementation of climate adaptation technologies such as AIRs in Ladakh. Data was collected using semi-structured interviews and focus group discussions (FGDs) in two consecutive rounds of fieldwork in Ladakh. This was complemented by a literature study of published empirical work on AIRs in Ladakh and document analysis of relevant policy documents such as Operational Guidelines for the Implementation of JJM 2019 and the Draft Ladakh Industrial Land Allotment Policy 2023.
The first round of fieldwork took place in March and April 2024. During this round, we visited an ice stupa in Phyang, a village in Leh district. Semi-structured interviews about the technical aspects of ice stupa construction were conducted with two engineers from a Private Limited Company. The engineers were identified through a purposive sampling strategy. One key informant interview with Chewang Norphel, the ‘ice man of India’ who pioneered the artificial glacier in Ladakh in 1989, was also conducted with the purpose of understanding the history of AIRs in Ladakh. In April 2024, we attended a workshop on water management using ice reservoirs in Ladakh, which was organised by the Private Limited Company that builds AIRs in Ladakh. During this workshop, we had the opportunity to join group discussions regarding the role and importance of AIRs in Ladakh with NGO members from Ladakh, individuals from the tourism sector, academics, and village heads.
The second round of fieldwork took place in April and May 2025. Ice stupas in two villages were visited: Phyang and Tarchit, both in Leh district. The benefit of visiting the ice stupa in Phyang over two consecutive years and in different seasons (in 2024 we visited the ice stupa in the winter season, and in 2025 we visited the ice stupas in the spring season) was that it allowed us to have discussions with the engineers and observe how the ice stupas function differently depending on the season. The changes in the technology and advances in automation and what it means for the functioning of the ice stupa were also discussed with the engineers responsible for developing the ice stupa in Phyang.
During this second round of fieldwork, we did in-depth interviews with engineers involved with AIR construction in Ladakh. In this paper, the term engineer is used broadly to account for all those individuals who work with the technical aspects of AIRs, including installation, automation, and innovation. A purposive sampling strategy was used to identify and narrow down engineers from one Private Limited Company, from the Ice Stupa Project, and from one research institute. The research institute had engineers who were former participants in the Ice Stupa Project, a group that pioneered ice stupa innovation in Ladakh. One FGD with six engineers from the research institute was conducted. The interview questions addressed topics of participation of various actors, the value of water, internal workings of the organisation and company, upstream-downstream measures and relations, and access to water. In total, over the two rounds of fieldwork, nine engineers were interviewed (including FGD) for this study.
A total of eighteen key in-depth interviews were conducted with villagers in Tarchit and Phyang, where there are ice stupas. In Tarchit, villagers use the ice stupa for irrigation, while in Phyang, the ice stupa is used more for tourism purposes and for automation prototyping by engineers, although minimal meltwater from the ice stupa does mix with other water sources to support irrigation. Six interviews were done with villagers in Takmachik, a village in Leh district, where, at the time of the visit, there was no ice stupa, but the village has a history of building ice stupas with the involvement of NGOs. The ice stupa project in Takmachik had been abandoned in the past few years. Fifteen interviews were also done in Phey village that lies downstream from Phyang in Leh district and has a history of shared water management (aside from the ice stupa) with Phyang. Apart from focused questions on AIRs and ice stupas, general questions on water management practices and mountain livelihoods, as part of our larger study, were asked in all villages visited. This provided a contextual understanding of the role and relevance of ice stupas in the broader hydrosocial relations of the region. All the villagers interviewed were identified through snowball sampling methods. A table detailing the profile of the villages included in this study can be found in Table 1, and a visual representation of field sites can be found in Figure 1.
Profile of villages visited for the study
Table 1 Long description
Village profiles list altitude range in meters above sea level, area in hectares, and population from the 2011 census for Phey, Phyang, Takmachik, and Tarchit. Phey has an altitude range from 3180 m to 3186 m, an area of 113.7 hectares, and a population of 331. Phyang has an altitude range from 3300 m to 4100 m, an area of 550 hectares, and a population of 2036. Takmachik has an altitude range from 2878 m to 3000 m, an area of 129.1 hectares, and a population of 607. Tarchit has an altitude range from 3796 m to 3950 m, an area of 75.7 hectares, and a population of 167.
Map of the field sites in Ladakh, India. The black points mark the towns and villages where interviews were conducted. Small pink points indicate the locations of the ice stupas visited. Data on political administrative boundaries are from Runfola et al. (Reference Runfola, Anderson, Baier, Crittenden, Dowker, Fuhrig, Goodman, Grimsley, Layko, Melville, Mulder, Oberman, Panganiban, Peck, Seitz, Shea, Slevin, Youngerman and Hobbs2020). Map design by Emma Johansson.
Figure 1 Long description
Field sites in Ladakh, India, with a focus on villages, towns and ice stupas visited for a study. Villages mentioned in the study are marked with black points, including Takmachik, Phyang, Phey and Tarchit. Towns are marked with blue points, such as Leh. Ice stupas visited for the study are indicated with pink points, located in Phyang and Tarchit. The map includes a scale bar showing distances of 0, 10 and 20 kilometers. An inset map in the top right corner provides a broader view of India, highlighting the location of Ladakh. Geographic coordinates are marked along the borders, with latitude at 34 degrees N and longitude at 78 degrees E. The map illustrates the terrain and river systems in the region, providing context for the study sites.
Interviews were conducted in Ladakhi, Hindi, and English. Interviews in English and Hindi were conducted by the first author, and interviews in Ladakhi were conducted with the help of a translator. Interviews lasted from thirty minutes to an hour. All interviews were recorded and transcribed, and transcribed interviews were stored in a secure location. Notes were taken during the interviews of key points mentioned by interviewees so that follow-up questions could be asked, following the process of doing semi-structured interviews. A thematic analysis approach was used to identify, analyse, and report the themes and patterns in our data set in accordance with our theoretical framework (Braun & Clarke, Reference Braun and Clarke2006). This approach allowed us to combine deductive codes from the theoretical framework and research questions (e.g., social power, hydrosocial relations, water governance, technology, etc.) with inductive codes emerging from the data. NVivo 15 was used for the coding process.
5. Results and discussion: hydrosocial relations of social power, technology and water
Hydrosocial relations are (re)configured when new technologies, such as ice stupas, are integrated into existing infrastructures and institutional arrangements. Previously constructed values and principles regarding water governance are renegotiated, and new ones are introduced, resulting in complementary dynamics within hydrosocial spaces (Vos & Hinojosa, Reference Vos and Hinojosa2016).
The case of ice stupa development in Tarchit is an example of this. Community members from the village approached the research institute to build the ice stupa. A survey of the village was done together to decide where to build the ice stupa. A community meeting was organised, and the ice stupa was built in collaboration with the goba of the village. An older man from the village explained that several people from the village volunteered to build the ice stupa. The man also mentioned that the land near the water source and the land on which the ice stupas have been built are common lands. This makes the co-construction process of the ice stupa pertinent (interview, Tarchit, April 2025).
The way water and society remake each other is observed in the integration of new technologies within existing infrastructures. The older man interviewed in Tarchit mentioned that the village receives mixed water for irrigation that includes water from the ice stupa, stream, and spring water. The melting water from the ice stupa joins with existing infrastructure, zings and canals, built for glacier streams and springs, and mixes with other sources of water to contribute to the total water that the village can use for irrigation during the spring season. This mixed water is distributed following the traditional water management system wherein all households receive water in a rotational manner, where one day is reserved for one household. Although the village does not have a churpon system, the volunteer mentioned that everyone in the village is collectively responsible for managing the water (interview, Tarchit, April 2025). In this regard, the integration of the ice stupa to the existing infrastructure and institutional arrangements helps the village with irrigation, as it provides support to the existing sources of water. Here, we see how water is distributed based on values and principles that are renegotiated based on collective development and implementation between the engineers from the research institute building the ice stupas, the community that receives the meltwater, and the community members who are also involved in the construction of the ice stupa. The distribution and management of water is done through the traditional governance institutions, making the communalisation of new technology easier, as shared values are maintained in the introduction of new technologies.
On the contrary, there are examples where hydrosocial relations around water and technology can reflect value conflicts due to varied perceptions of the benefits of these technologies, and the lack of integration into existing ways of water governance and traditional infrastructure. In a round table discussion with development NGO representatives, tourism company operators, village heads, and researchers in a workshop on water management in Ladakh that was organised in 2024, the goba of a village mentioned that ‘outsiders’, referring to engineers, do not have the same respect for the sacred streams, nagas, and spirits as the locals do, and this leads to some hesitation from the villagers to accept this technology (workshop participant, personal communication, April 2024). The participants in the round table discussion also mentioned some challenges with ice stupas in comparison to the older forms of artificial glaciers, including technological and social exclusion, increased expenses, use of plastic, and being more dependent on technical labour (workshop participant, personal communication, Leh, April 2024). They said that when the artificial glaciers are combined with the traditional water management system and traditional infrastructure (zing), it is better, as it bears a better sense of community, is less labour-intensive in terms of technical work, uses natural materials, and the water that collects in the zing from these artificial glaciers brings down more silt with it, which is better for agriculture (workshop participant, personal communication, Leh, April 2024). In Takmachik, while there used to be an ice stupa that was an initiative by an NGO, the village elders we interviewed in 2025 mentioned that they no longer had one because they did not find it useful, as there was uncertainty regarding whether the meltwater was reaching the zing, since it mostly seeped underground (interview, Takmachik, April 2024).
Fragmented implementation of AIR technologies and confusion regarding the uses of water can potentially lead to conflicts. This is because when new technologies are introduced into a hydrosocial space with existing water regimes, such as commons and traditionally stipulated user rights, it may lead to contestations (Islar, Reference Islar2012). Fragmented planning is observed in the operational guidelines of the JJM. The document identifies the challenges of water provision for domestic purposes in high mountain cold desert regions such as Ladakh, including the freezing of pipelines in winter. The document recommends solutions such as using the traditional water harvesting infrastructure of zing and the construction of AIRs. However, this recommendation overlooks the varied institutional arrangements that exist in the hydrosocial space. This institutional ambiguity risks reconfiguring hydrosocial relations in uneven and contested ways. While zings are under the purview of the churpon, goba, and the community (yulpa), AIRs are initiatives and interventions by private companies, research institutes, NGOs, and sometimes the yulpa. There are no guidelines provided on how the mixed water, merged from various sources, and the different technologies and infrastructures will be governed, maintained, and used for drinking water purposes. Further, there are no guidelines on how the uses of water for various purposes will be delineated by different governing institutions since the AIRs have varied uses, zings are mostly used to store water for irrigation, and infrastructure under JJM is meant to provide drinking water.
Hydrosocial relations are also configured through adaptation of the technology to emerging challenges experienced by communities and to the particular biophysical and hydrological conditions of the villages. The case of the two ice stupas in Tarchit can illustrate this process. During our observations in Tarchit in April 2025, the engineers from the research institute who were involved with the construction of the ice stupa showed us two ice stupas in the village. A larger one upstream that is fed by a mixed source of water, including glacier meltwater and spring water; and a smaller one from the previous year located downstream that was fed by a mixed source of water, including snowfields and spring water. The engineers mentioned that the smaller ice stupa from the previous year is currently inactive, and what was observed were remnants from the previous year. They also mentioned that the location of the ice stupa was changed in 2025 for two reasons. One, the villagers from Tarchit who had their houses and fields in the upper part of the village close to the ice stupa said that their crops were affected by the cold air from the ice stupa. The second reason was the change in the direction the spring flowed. The engineers integrated the communities’ experiences of water use into redesigning the technology (interview, Tarchit, April 2025). This is an example of how experiential knowledge from communities is combined with the technical knowledge of the engineers to build ice stupa technologies adapted to the diverse microclimatic conditions and watersheds in the valleys of Ladakh, and to the changing needs and perceptions of ice stupas by the community. Engineers from the research organisation mentioned that by working with communities in building ice stupas and in surveying the region, they are able to build different types of AIRs that are adapted to the diverse microclimates and conditions of every valley (interview, Tarchit, April 2025). This may or may not be ice stupas, but the idea is to develop and build an AIR that can help with the different water challenges being experienced by villages. During the FGD, an engineer from the research organisation said, ‘Every village is visited as it is the villager who know where the stream is. This is the traditional knowledge and wisdom that they have’ (FGD, Phyang, April 2025). He also mentioned that the research organisation has developed a free ice stupa manual that is available online and can be used by people to build their own ice stupas. Based on that, many villages have built their own ice stupas in Ladakh and in other regions such as Baltistan and Kyrgyzstan, which the organisation came to know about much later.
Understandings of the sacredness of commons, especially water and land, are integrated in the process of developing ice stupas. When asked about the sacredness of the water channelled to make the ice stupa in Tarchit, an elderly woman farmer mentioned that the entire valley is sacred (interview, Tarchit, April 2025). To illustrate that, an older man from Tarchit showed the Buddhist stupas that were built near the stream next to the ice stupa and acknowledged that the reverence for the stream has remained even after the ice stupa was built. He said that since the source of water and the spring are far away from the village and the ice stupa is built downstream, the sacredness is maintained (interview, Tarchit, April 2025). The research institute involved with building the ice stupa in Tarchit also mentioned that in the past, in other villages in Ladakh where they built ice stupas, the communities were concerned with the use of green plastic nets as they considered it polluting the sacred spaces. Since the push from communities to stop using plastic, the organisation has now switched to using coconut fibres, jute ropes and sticks in a way to respect the sacredness of the space and to have shared values (FGD, Phyang, April 2025). Here, we show how a collective understanding of the sacredness of water and land between the local community and the engineers influences how ice stupa technologies are modified.
Existing hydrosocial relations can also be altered due to the poor management of upstream-downstream relations when it comes to developing and implementing ice stupas. The conflict between Phey (downstream village) and Phyang (upstream village) over an ice stupa that was built in Phyang and diverted water away from fields in Phey illustrates how technological interventions can reconfigure hydrosocial relations by reshaping access to water and violating existing customary rights regarding water governance and water distribution between villages. In 2015, the Ice Stupa Project, in collaboration with the Phyang monastery, constructed an ice stupa to irrigate a poplar plantation on monastery land (Sharma, Reference Sharma2019). In 2017, residents of Phey, who rely on the winter meltwater from Phyang to recharge their groundwater and support the needs of agriculture, noticed a significant loss of winter water from the main canal, which they attributed to the diversion of water for the ice stupa after the capacity of the pipes was increased (Clouse, Reference Clouse2019; Sharma, Reference Sharma2019). According to the residents of Phey, this was a violation of their traditional rights that are ascribed in the bandobast (land revenue settlement reform introduced in 1908 that aimed at supporting long-distance Central Asian trade through Ladakh [Wacker, Reference Wacker, Bray and Shakspo2007]). Residents of Phey also stated that the ice stupa project was a threat to the peace between the two villages (Sharma, Reference Sharma2019).
When we interviewed residents of Phey regarding this conflict, one villager said, ‘They (referring to Phyang) were dividing the water and taking it for the ice stupa construction. So, the water that was meant to be ours was being diverted and taken to build the ice stupa. If they take it even once in a year, then the rest of the year we won't get water’ (interview, Phey, May 2025). In contrast, engineers interviewed from the Ice Stupa Project employed a techno-managerial understanding of the problem. One engineer from the Ice Stupa Project mentioned that the argument posed by the villagers in Phey could be easily debunked, as the ice stupa used a very small percentage of water from the stream that flows from Phyang to Phey, which would not make any difference in the availability of water to downstream residents. He added that back in 2015, the ice stupas were only using the winter water that is of no use to anyone for farming or for plantations, although it does drain into the Indus River (FGD, Phyang, April 2025). Another engineer from the Ice Stupa Project stated that Phey does not need water in winter, and that residents of Phey were not used to new ideas, which is what impeded the implementation and adoption of the ice stupa. He added that the only water that was being channelled to be stored as ice in the ice stupa was the wasteful flow in the winter (interview, Phyang, May 2025). Although the dispute ended and the ice stupa ceased to function, the case of Phey and Phyang highlights the value conflicts between actors and the tensions that lie in the plural understanding of a problem. The example shows how technologies, technocratic knowledge, and fragmented planning that does not fully consider the upstream-downstream relations and older established ways of managing water can pose threats to customary rules, cause rifts between upstream and downstream communities, and thus reconfigure traditional hydrosocial relations. It also shows how there are hierarchies in knowledge about water, oftentimes technical and managerial knowledge occupying higher positions in this hierarchy, that influence the water infrastructures, rules, rights, and institutions. This pushes local users to fit into those imagined power hierarchies operating at multiple scales (Boelens et al., Reference Boelens, Hoogesteger, Swyngedouw, Vos and Wester2016).
6. Concluding remarks
Through qualitative methods, including semi-structured in-depth interviews, a FGD, a literature study of published empirical work on AIRs in Ladakh, and document analysis of relevant policy documents, we show that hydrosocial relations in the context of AIRs, including ice stupas, are configured in many ways. Hydrosocial relations are configured through shared values and principles regarding water management and governance, and through the integration of new technologies into existing traditional infrastructures. We also see hydrosocial relations being configured through the integration of different knowledges, experiential and technical, in the development of AIR technologies that are adapted to the diverse microclimatic conditions and watersheds in the valleys of Ladakh, and to the changing needs and perceptions of ice stupas by the community. Hydrosocial relations are also configured through the collective understanding of the sacredness of water and land between communities and engineers. On the other hand, we also observe how value conflicts and varied perceptions of the benefits of these technologies between actors, and the lack of integration into existing ways of water governance and traditional infrastructure, can lead to a reluctance to accept the AIR technologies. It can also lead to discontinuing maintenance of these technologies by villagers, fragmented implementation of the technologies, and confusion regarding the uses of meltwater, which can potentially lead to conflicts.
Although ice stupas are promoted as climate adaptation technologies, critical reflection is required on how hydrosocial relations are (re)configured in cryospheric environments through AIR technologies that are aimed at providing water during scarce seasons. This reflection is pertinent in understanding how these technologies are developed, adopted, and implemented. Using hydrosocial theory to study ice stupas allows us to consider the social power dynamics that exist amongst different actors regarding their use and management of meltwater. It also allows us to consider the complex socio-natural power relations embedded within these technologies and in their implementation. Our findings show that ice stupas and AIRs exemplify how climate adaptation technologies and water-related development interventions are not neutral, but socio-technical, cultural, and political artefacts that affect how hydrosocial relations are configured.
In conclusion, in this paper we unpack the power dynamics of AIR technologies, including ice stupas in Ladakh in the context of climate change-related glacier retreat. Through this study, we add to the growing literature on hydrosocial studies of climate adaptation in the context of water governance interventions and technical solutions in cryospheric environments. We also show that not every power relation is necessarily visible and constantly rooted in resource conflict. In solution-building, competing knowledge systems can be negotiated, tested and modified with direct results on the acceptance of climate adaptation technologies such as AIRs.
We recommend that more studies are needed to connect the embeddedness of local technologies in global discourses. While ice stupas emerge from local contexts and local concerns of water availability in the spring season, they are increasingly folded into global discourse regarding climate adaptation technologies and innovation. While this can lead to funding and more resources, it also subjects local challenges to global logics, where success is measured less by equitable water distribution and more by the production of replicable local engineering solutions. This can also conceal problems regarding the material performance of ice stupas (e.g., melt rates, irrigation adequacy), especially when it fails to align with discursive promises of climate adaptation at the global scale. Future studies should also consider community-led ice stupa initiatives that are an important part of the story of climate adaptation technologies in Ladakh and also pay attention to the gendered components of knowledge production regarding climate adaptation technologies.
Acknowledgements
The authors would like to thank local communities of Ladakh and various organisations in Ladakh responsible for ice stupa innovations for their time and valuable inputs for this article. Thank you also to members from the Local Futures Ladakh chapter for helping with the data collection. We also thank Emma Johansson for designing the map used in this article. We would also like to thank Dr. Nithya Natarajan, Dr. David Harnesk, and Dr. Mayank Shah for comments on the early stages of this paper.
Author contributions
S.S. and M.I. conceptualised the study, S.S. led the writing process of the manuscript, and M.I. reviewed and revised the manuscript. S.S. and M.I. conducted data collection in 2024; S.S. conducted data collection in 2025.
Funding statement
The authors would like to thank FORMAS (Swedish Research Council for Sustainable Development), grant number 2022-01756. S.S. was also supported by the Swedish South Asian Studies Network at Lund University for the South Asia Travel Grant for Doctoral Students.
Competing interests
The authors declare that they have no conflict of interest.
Open access
