In the dry, sunbaked city of Cochabamba, Bolivia, the year 2000 marked more than just the start of a new millennium. It marked a turning point in the global debate over water: who controls it, who profits from it, and who ultimately pays the price. When the Bolivian government handed over control of Cochabamba’s water system to Aguas del Tunari—a consortium led by the U.S. corporation Bechtel—the logic followed a familiar script. The private sector, it was said, would manage water more efficiently, invest in needed infrastructure, and finally solve the city’s chronic water shortages.
Instead, what followed was a social explosion.
Almost overnight, the cost of water tripled. Residents were forced to pay for water even when it came from rain barrels or private wells. Families who once lived on a few dollars a day had to choose between buying water and feeding their children. What had once been a lifeline became a luxury. The people resisted. In an extraordinary uprising known now as the “Cochabamba Water War,” thousands marched through the streets, demanding that water return to the hands of the public. Their struggle became a powerful symbol of resistance to water commodification, and in the end, they won. The government was forced to terminate the privatization contract, and water was placed back under public control (Olivera, 2004).
Cochabamba was not the first city to privatize its water, nor was it the last. But its story illuminated a truth that has only become clearer in the decades since: water, when treated as a commodity, often leads to inequality, exclusion, and public discontent. As global water needs rise alongside urbanization and climate change, the urgency to reverse privatization and reclaim public control has never been greater.
The case for privatization was built on a promise—greater efficiency, better management, and sustainable funding. The private sector, it was claimed, would correct the inefficiencies of bloated public utilities and bring professionalism into service delivery. But reality has repeatedly failed to match the rhetoric. In city after city, privatized water services have led to skyrocketing prices, inadequate maintenance, and neglect of low-income communities. In places like Jakarta, the Philippines, Ghana, and parts of the United States, the legacy of privatization has often been higher rates, non-transparency, and deteriorating infrastructure (Lobina & Hall, 2007).
In contrast, experiences with public water management—when properly supported—have been far more promising. Consider Paris. For 25 years, two private water giants—Veolia and Suez—managed the city’s water system. Yet in 2010, the Paris city government decided to remunicipalize its water services. A new publicly owned company, Eau de Paris, was established with full transparency and accountability at its core. The results were swift and impressive. Water prices dropped by 8% in the first year alone. The savings from cutting out corporate profit margins were reinvested into system improvements. Citizen participation increased, and the city began treating water not just as a resource but as a shared civic responsibility (Pigeon, 2012).
What Paris and Cochabamba both reveal—despite being separated by geography, language, and context—is that when people are given a voice in managing their water, the results are not only more just but also more sustainable. Ending water privatization, then, begins with a shift in consciousness. Water must no longer be viewed through the lens of supply and demand, cost and profit. It must be understood as a commons—a shared, universal resource essential to life itself. This conceptual shift is vital. When water is framed as a commons, its management prioritizes equity over profit, long-term sustainability over short-term gain, and the well-being of communities over the balance sheets of shareholders.
This vision has already begun to take hold. In 2010, the United Nations General Assembly officially recognized access to clean water and sanitation as a human right (UNGA Resolution 64/292). This recognition laid a critical legal and moral foundation for countries to resist and even reverse water privatization. Uruguay took this principle even further. In 2004, the country held a national referendum in which the people voted to amend the constitution, declaring that water and sanitation services must be provided exclusively by public authorities. The amendment made it illegal to privatize the water supply, a bold move that positioned Uruguay as a leader in the global water justice movement.
However, laws alone are not enough. Public ownership must be accompanied by public investment. Many public water utilities, especially in the Global South, have suffered from decades of underfunding, making them vulnerable to privatization narratives. Strengthening these utilities means equipping them with the financial and technical resources they need to operate effectively. It also means investing in the human side of public service—training engineers, planners, and community managers who are committed to delivering clean water not for profit but for people.
Community involvement is another pillar in this transformation. When water systems are governed transparently and with genuine public participation, trust is restored. People feel a sense of ownership, not just over the infrastructure but over the future. This participatory model is visible in places like Bogotá and Berlin, where residents have successfully campaigned to bring water systems under democratic control. The participatory budgeting process in Porto Alegre, Brazil, offers another inspiring example of how citizens can shape public services—including water—through deliberative democracy.
The movement to end water privatization is also transnational. Across continents, civil society organizations, trade unions, and municipal leaders are forming coalitions to resist privatization efforts and promote public solutions. Networks such as the Transnational Institute’s Public Futures project and Public Services International are connecting activists, policymakers, and researchers to share strategies, expose corporate abuses, and build political pressure. The result is a growing body of knowledge and action known as the “remunicipalization” movement. According to a 2020 report, more than 300 cases of water remunicipalization have occurred in the last 20 years, across 37 countries (Kishimoto et al., 2020).
None of this is easy. Privatization contracts are often locked into place with binding international agreements. Corporate lobbying remains powerful. And public trust in government—damaged by decades of austerity and mismanagement—takes time to rebuild. But the tide is turning.
Ending water privatization is not a utopian dream. It is a practical necessity. It is rooted in the lived experience of millions who have suffered under profit-driven systems. It is supported by evidence, upheld by communities, and now increasingly backed by international law.
As climate change intensifies water scarcity and as urban populations swell, the imperative is clear: we must reclaim water as a public good. This is not simply about technical management. It is about justice. It is about democracy. It is about the future we wish to leave behind.
Cochabamba taught us that ordinary people, when united, can stop even the most powerful corporations. Paris taught us that cities can govern water fairly and effectively. And the world today teaches us that we have both the responsibility and the capacity to end water privatization—once and for all.
Let the flow return—not to the pipelines of profit, but to the hands of the people.
