The Desalination Trap

The Gulf turned seawater into survival and oil into power. But the technology that made desert life possible is energy-hungry, vulnerable in war and increasingly hard to sustain

MARCO MAGRINI

THE MIDDLE EAST RUNS ON TWO LIQUIDS – oil made it wealthy; desalinated water made it habitable. The future of the Gulf states hangs in the balance of both.

If the war with Iran exposed one kind of asymmetry, water dependency reveals another. The countries of the Gulf Cooperation Council (GCC) are among the most vulnerable. Kuwait and Qatar rely on desalination for their entire potable water supply. Bahrain depends on it for roughly 95 per cent, Oman for 86 per cent, Saudi Arabia for 70 per cent and the UAE for more than 40 per cent. Iran, on the opposite shore, depends far less on desalination, as it has rivers and dams, though its groundwater is dangerously depleted.

Around the time oil was first discovered in Persia in 1908, a primitive desalination technology also emerged – boil seawater, collect the steam, condense it. In the Sixties, massive thermal plants were adopted, in which seawater was heated and ‘flashed’ into steam across multiple chambers at progressively lower pressures. Then something better arrived. In the human body, the natural process of osmosis causes water to move across cell membranes from areas of low salt concentration to areas of high salt concentration. Reverse osmosis does the opposite, applying intense pressure to force water through ‘nanopore’ membranes that leave dissolved sodium ions behind.

The list of drawbacks is long. The first is security. As the new conflict has shown, desalination plants can become legitimate military targets. A large-scale missile or drone strike that hits its target could upend the lives of entire cities within days, as strategic water reserves are limited. But even in peacetime, the problems are serious.

More than 30 million cubic metres of hyper-saline brine, laced with heavy metals and chemicals, are discharged into the Persian Gulf every day. This brine harms marine ecosystems, contributing to coral bleaching and the decline of fish populations. At the same time, it makes desalination itself more demanding – brine discharges raise salinity at intake points, which means more energy is needed, and then more brine is released.

Reverse osmosis is far less energy-intensive, yet roughly half of the desalination plants in the oil-rich states are still on the thermal system. There are no official statistics, but it is estimated that, every day, the GCC nations burn half a million barrels of oil to turn some of the most saline waters in the world into something drinkable. Isn’t this appalling?

Then comes the second crucial issue. At some point in this century, the world’s hydrocarbon bonanza will come to an end. Its decline could be triggered by a global shift to clean energy sources, whose progress may indeed be accelerated by the current oil shock. Or it could be driven by declining reserves. At current production rates, Kuwait is estimated to have enough oil for another century. Saudi Arabia and the UAE have between 66 and 70 years left, though this is disputed; Qatar has 35 to 40 years; Oman 15 to 20, while Bahrain has nearly exhausted its endowment.

Depletion does not mean simply ‘running out’. Oilfields do not go from full to empty like a petrol tank. They follow a curve: production rises, plateaus and then declines as pressure drops and extraction becomes harder and more expensive.

The GCC states know this well. Each now has its own national vision plan. The aim is to raise non-oil revenues through tourism, financial services, AI and real estate, while investing heavily in solar energy. Yet the sheer scale of the capital required was already vulnerable to the market fluctuations in oil prices. Now, current geopolitical instability could delay – if not derail – many of these projects.

And it does not end there. Fifty years from now, the Gulf states will not only need far more water for larger populations. They will also need to redesign cities like space stations, with climate-controlled walkways. It is the brutal boomerang effect of hydrocarbon opulence and profligacy – a century of oil-fuelled carbon emissions has helped alter the atmosphere. After 2070, according to a paper published last January by a team at King Abdulaziz University, summer peak temperatures in some Gulf regions could increase by as much as 5.9°C. Applied to today’s seasonal highs, that would push temperatures well beyond 55°C – making prolonged outdoor exposure potentially lethal.

This unforeseen conflict adds a thick layer of uncertainty. Yet one thing is certain. Fifty years from now, the region will need to become the world’s most advanced laboratory for human survival.

Published in the May 2026 issue of Geographical Magazine