By Sarah Hamilton

Groundwater sustains nearly half of the world’s irrigated agriculture and supplies drinking water for roughly four billion people, yet over 150 years of large-scale extraction, weak governance regimes have repeatedly permitted unsustainable use. Over time, this has depleted major aquifers in arid regions around the world, producing falling water tables, land subsidence, and widespread well failures. These problems are frequently described in deterministic terms that emphasize the unknowable nature of the underground and the impossibility of effective regulation. Such depictions elide the fact that poor groundwater management is a political outcome that can be traced to specific historical decisions. In arid regions around the world, major groundwater users have repeatedly captured and deflected regulatory oversight to continue overexploitation long after its consequences were widely recognized.
Groundwater basins are a classic example of what political scientist and Nobel laureate Elinor Ostrom described as common-pool resources: resources from which it is difficult to exclude users, and in which each user’s access reduces what remains for others. Ostrom identified several conditions necessary for the effective governance of such resources, including clear resource boundaries, accurate monitoring, mechanisms for collective decision-making and conflict resolution, and, in the case of large systems, “nested” or polycentric institutions in which local authorities operate within broader regulatory frameworks.
The Southern California groundwater basins that formed the core of Ostrom’s doctoral work in the 1960s met many of these conditions and developed comparatively durable forms of local groundwater governance. But this stood in stark contrast to the rampant overexploitation occurring slightly farther north in the San Joaquin Valley, one of the most productive agricultural regions in the world. Over the course of the twentieth century, the heavily capitalized groundwater users of the San Joaquin routinely captured local institutions and kept groundwater pumping off the statewide legislative agenda, successfully lobbying for massive public works projects that transferred water from the wetter northern regions of the state in order to relieve pressure on rapidly depleting aquifers. Such projects proved Sisyphean, as the new water largely went to newly irrigated land and thirstier permanent crops while groundwater pumping continued to increase. By the 1970s, with major infrastructure projects completed and irrigators continuing to call for more water transfers, groundwater levels in many parts of the San Joaquin Valley had fallen by hundreds of feet from their prewar levels, while the land itself was subsiding by as much as a foot per year.
Unlike the municipalities and water agencies that dominated groundwater use in Southern California, the major groundwater users of the San Joaquin Valley had little incentive to pursue collective management of their aquifers. Without statewide regulation or collective-choice arrangements, the largest operations could simply dig deeper wells and pump more water while their less heavily capitalized neighbors’ wells ran dry. San Joaquin groundwater governance was carried out by more than a hundred fragmented local institutions, most of them organized around property lines, surface water systems, or both, rather than hydrogeological realities. The problem was not the absence of local institutions, but the absence of institutions capable of coordinating groundwater management at the scale of the aquifer itself. The mismatch between governance institutions and the boundaries of the shared resource itself made effective local management all but impossible.
It was not until California passed the Sustainable Groundwater Management Act in 2014, becoming the last western state to comprehensively regulate groundwater, that it established the conditions for a more genuinely polycentric system of groundwater governance. Even now, the profound mismanagement of the twentieth century has left the San Joaquin Valley on a path-dependent trajectory of overuse and resistance to sustainable management. Read more broadly, the history of groundwater in the San Joaquin Valley demonstrates that unsustainable groundwater use often persists not because the resource is unknowable or inherently ungovernable, but because powerful interests successfully resist the creation of institutions capable of managing it collectively. Ostrom’s framework also helps identify the specific historical junctures and institutional failures that produced these unsustainable but deeply embedded practices.
Sarah Hamilton is an Associate Professor of environmental history and leader of the Environmental Humanities Research Group at the University of Bergen. Her work on water history engages with questions of regulation, conservation, and the generation and deployment of knowledge and ignorance. Her first book, Cultivating Nature: The Making of a Valencian Working Landscape (Washington University Press 2018) received the Turku Book Award from the European Society for Environmental History. This talk is part of a larger project on large-scale groundwater exploitation around the world, which has also produced publications in The Journal of Modern History, Modern American History, and Hydrogeology Journal.




