You should spend about 20 minutes on questions 1-14 based on this passage.
Water under Pressure: Rethinking Supply in an Age of Scarcity
For centuries, many societies behaved as if freshwater were a resource that would renew itself indefinitely. Rivers rose and fell, wells recovered after dry spells, and seasonal shortages were often treated as temporary inconveniences rather than structural problems. That assumption is now increasingly untenable. In many parts of the world, water stress is no longer the result of a single drought or an unusually hot summer. Instead, it reflects a convergence of pressures: rising population, rapid urbanization, industrial demand, agricultural expansion and climatic volatility. As these pressures intensify, governments are being compelled not only to find more water, but also to reconsider what should count as a usable supply.
One reason the issue has become so acute is that the quantity of water available cannot be separated from its quality. A region may appear well supplied on paper because it has rivers, reservoirs or underground aquifers, yet much of that water may be unsuitable for use. Freshwater sources in many countries have been compromised by sewage, agricultural runoff and industrial discharge. Once contamination reaches a certain level, a lake or river ceases to be a practical asset, even if its physical volume remains unchanged. In this way, degraded quality creates a hidden form of shortage: the resource exists, but its utility has been eroded.
Distribution presents a further complication. Water is seldom located precisely where demand is greatest. Some countries rely on dependable rainfall, while others depend on seasonal storms or mountain snowmelt. Even within national borders, one region may have relative abundance while another faces chronic shortage. Moving water across long distances is technically possible, but it is costly, politically contentious and sometimes environmentally damaging. Where rivers or groundwater reserves are shared, decisions about allocation can acquire strategic significance. Water policy, in such cases, begins to resemble resource diplomacy rather than routine administration.
This pressure has driven many states to invest in desalination, the process of removing salt from seawater. The method has proved especially attractive in arid coastal regions, where the sea is abundant but freshwater is limited. Its appeal lies in the apparent reliability of the source: unlike rainfall, seawater is not subject to seasonal failure. Cities that once depended heavily on overused aquifers or distant reservoirs can, at least in theory, secure a more dependable supply by turning to the coast.
However, desalination is not a universal remedy. It is energy-intensive, which makes it expensive, and if powered by fossil fuels, it may deepen environmental problems rather than solve them. The process also produces concentrated brine, which must be discharged with care because it can disrupt marine habitats. For that reason, desalination has been adopted most readily by wealthier states or by places where conventional sources are under exceptional strain. Even so, technical refinements and the growing use of renewable energy have made it less prohibitive than it once was.
A different response has been the reuse of wastewater. In the past, the idea often met with instinctive resistance. For many people, objections arose less from scientific evidence than from perception. Yet after advanced treatment, wastewater can be used safely for agriculture, industry and, in some cases, even for drinking water systems. This approach is attractive because it transforms what was previously treated as waste into a recoverable asset. Instead of following a linear path from source to drain, water is recirculated through the urban system.
Singapore is frequently cited as a notable example of this strategy. With limited natural freshwater and a long-standing concern about water security, it invested in high-grade purification technology and public education at the same time. Much of the treated water is used in industry, and some is added to reservoirs. What made the policy effective was not merely the engineering. Authorities also recognised that public trust had to be cultivated deliberately; otherwise, a scientifically sound system might still fail through lack of acceptance. The success of water reform, therefore, depends not only on infrastructure but also on persuasion.
Alongside these high-profile methods, some countries and cities have rediscovered the value of rainwater harvesting. The principle is straightforward: rain that would otherwise run off roofs and paved surfaces is collected and stored. In areas with irregular rainfall, even modest storage systems can provide a useful buffer during dry periods. On a larger scale, urban planners may channel water into recharge systems that replenish depleted aquifers. Rainwater harvesting is rarely sufficient on its own, but it can serve as a supplementary measure that reduces pressure on centralised supplies.
Equally important is the question of efficiency. In many places, substantial quantities of water are lost not because nature has failed to provide it, but because human systems use it badly. Leaking pipes, outdated irrigation and careless consumption all magnify scarcity. Repairing infrastructure may appear less impressive than constructing a vast new plant, yet it can yield immediate gains. Drip irrigation, for instance, delivers water directly to plant roots, reducing waste significantly. In this sense, prudent management may be as valuable as technological innovation. For nations confronting water stress, the challenge is not simply to locate new sources, but to govern existing ones with greater intelligence.
