183
between agricultural and water-related institutional structures. The latter still relied
on the rules for allocating water to the cash crop-producing state farms, while the
need to allocate water between different uses (cash crops of cotton and wheat, but
also privately planted crops like rice and vegetables) and different levels of decisionmaking increased. Abdullaev and Mollinga ( 2010 , pp. 93–98) provide an institutional analysis of water-related decision-making, pointing to the fact that, in addition
to the newly created water users associations, agricultural quotas for cotton and
wheat production, ancient rules about “water turns”, neighbourhood relationships
and clans also had a major impact on de facto decision-making. As a result, water
users associations are not seen primarily as an organisation that represents the needs
of water users but rather as another water administration body imposed on farmers
in a top-down manner (Abdullaev et al. 2010 , p. 1035). As one reaction, in addition
to water users associations, water user groups emerged, as “true” representatives of
farmers and water users (Abdullaev and Mollinga 2010 ), where the “farmers have
taken water management into their own hands” (Moss and Hamidov 2015 , in thi s
volume, pp. 149–167).
It is not necessary to go into the details of institutional change here. Rather, the
key argument here is that water users associations, as the decisive organisational
units for solving water irrigation issues, were (and still are) relatively weak so that
there has been no opportunity to introduce pricing at this level. As the water users
associations are not fi nanced by the state, they depend heavily on the fees and
charges they impose on farmers. However, these fees and charges rarely refl ect the
situation of water scarcity, as they are usually based on farm size and the type of
crop (Moss and Hamidov 2015 , in this volume, pp. 149–167). Consequently, the
incentives for using water more effectively are relatively weak. The payment is seen
more as a membership contribution (rather like a tax) than as a fee or charge that is
imposed in exchange for services received. There is no connection between the
water use and the revenues raised, as it is not water itself but the area of land that is
subject to taxation; the tax base and the tariff also lack incentives for effi cient water
use. Needless to say that the prerequisites for monitoring – which requires metering
not only at the level of the main canals but also at the level of secondary and tertiary
canals and grids – are not met (Weinthal 2006 , p. 19). Also, compliance is not
achieved as many members of WUAs just do not pay the charges imposed on them.
The result is, as Kenjabaev ( 2014 , p. 27) notes, “neither WUAs nor farmers and
other water users have an incentive to know the applied and delivered amount of
water as no price is set for water in Uzbekistan.”
It is not surprising that water allocation in many cases does not refl ect the rules
of the WUAs, but is embedded in historical decision-making, which means that
former elites and power constellations are more important than written rules.
Against this background, the pricing of water resources has no chance of being
introduced and implemented. Recalling once more Walter Eucken’s ( 1952/1990 )
observation that there is an “interdependence of orders”, pricing as one element of
dealing with water scarcity makes little sense if other issues such as well-defi ned
12 Theory, the Market and the State: Agricultural Reforms in Uzbekistan…
between agricultural and water-related institutional structures. The latter still relied
on the rules for allocating water to the cash crop-producing state farms, while the
need to allocate water between different uses (cash crops of cotton and wheat, but
also privately planted crops like rice and vegetables) and different levels of decisionmaking increased. Abdullaev and Mollinga ( 2010 , pp. 93–98) provide an institutional analysis of water-related decision-making, pointing to the fact that, in addition
to the newly created water users associations, agricultural quotas for cotton and
wheat production, ancient rules about “water turns”, neighbourhood relationships
and clans also had a major impact on de facto decision-making. As a result, water
users associations are not seen primarily as an organisation that represents the needs
of water users but rather as another water administration body imposed on farmers
in a top-down manner (Abdullaev et al. 2010 , p. 1035). As one reaction, in addition
to water users associations, water user groups emerged, as “true” representatives of
farmers and water users (Abdullaev and Mollinga 2010 ), where the “farmers have
taken water management into their own hands” (Moss and Hamidov 2015 , in thi s
volume, pp. 149–167).
It is not necessary to go into the details of institutional change here. Rather, the
key argument here is that water users associations, as the decisive organisational
units for solving water irrigation issues, were (and still are) relatively weak so that
there has been no opportunity to introduce pricing at this level. As the water users
associations are not fi nanced by the state, they depend heavily on the fees and
charges they impose on farmers. However, these fees and charges rarely refl ect the
situation of water scarcity, as they are usually based on farm size and the type of
crop (Moss and Hamidov 2015 , in this volume, pp. 149–167). Consequently, the
incentives for using water more effectively are relatively weak. The payment is seen
more as a membership contribution (rather like a tax) than as a fee or charge that is
imposed in exchange for services received. There is no connection between the
water use and the revenues raised, as it is not water itself but the area of land that is
subject to taxation; the tax base and the tariff also lack incentives for effi cient water
use. Needless to say that the prerequisites for monitoring – which requires metering
not only at the level of the main canals but also at the level of secondary and tertiary
canals and grids – are not met (Weinthal 2006 , p. 19). Also, compliance is not
achieved as many members of WUAs just do not pay the charges imposed on them.
The result is, as Kenjabaev ( 2014 , p. 27) notes, “neither WUAs nor farmers and
other water users have an incentive to know the applied and delivered amount of
water as no price is set for water in Uzbekistan.”
It is not surprising that water allocation in many cases does not refl ect the rules
of the WUAs, but is embedded in historical decision-making, which means that
former elites and power constellations are more important than written rules.
Against this background, the pricing of water resources has no chance of being
introduced and implemented. Recalling once more Walter Eucken’s ( 1952/1990 )
observation that there is an “interdependence of orders”, pricing as one element of
dealing with water scarcity makes little sense if other issues such as well-defi ned
12 Theory, the Market and the State: Agricultural Reforms in Uzbekistan…