After nearly four decades working on water issues across the West, I’ve learned that the only constant in this business is change. I’ve seen reservoirs rise and fall, policies shift with political tides, and family farms hang in the balance of decisions made thousands of miles away. Through it all, one truth has remained clear: water connects everything in the West. If we lose our ability to manage it wisely and fairly, we risk losing far more than irrigation—we risk losing the fabric of our rural communities.
Whether you run cattle in Nevada, raise hay in Idaho or grow specialty crops in California, reliable irrigation is what allows western agriculture to exist at all. The rivers and ditches that carry water don’t recognize state borders or agency jurisdictions—they connect people and landscapes. And when shortages or regulations choke those systems, everyone feels the impact.
Throughout my career, I’ve seen that ranchers, farmers and irrigation districts share more common ground than they sometimes realize. They all face the same rising costs, aging infrastructure and competing demands from growing cities and environmental mandates. They work within systems shaped by policies that don’t always reflect how water behaves on the ground. Increasingly, they share the same frustration that decisions about their livelihoods are being made by people far removed from the realities of western agriculture.
It’s easy to get drawn into the blame game when water runs short. Certain litigious environmentalists blame agriculture, agriculture blames regulation, states point fingers at each other. But the West’s water challenges are bigger than any single interest group. They’re the product of decades of increasing regulation, neglected federal infrastructure and forests, and extreme swings in weather that can’t be wished away.
Instead of pitting neighbor against neighbor, we need to focus on what works. Across the West, I’ve seen creative, cooperative efforts—local water banks, irrigation modernization projects and voluntary conservation agreements—that deliver real results without top-down mandates. These examples prove that when people are given the flexibility to innovate, they rise to the challenge. What doesn’t work is endless litigation, political grandstanding or the false notion that one side must win for another to survive.
Western irrigated agriculture isn’t asking for handouts; it’s asking for tools. We need to modernize aging dams, canals and pumps. We need to expand flexible storage—both surface and groundwater—and update policies to reflect how communities actually use and manage water. And we need regulatory frameworks, from the Endangered Species Act to the Clean Water Act, applied with consistency and common sense.
These aren’t new ideas. Many of us have advocated for them for years. What’s changed is the urgency. Drought cycles are intensifying, and the margin for error is shrinking. Federal funding from recent infrastructure legislation is a welcome step, but it must be paired with local empowerment—policies that encourage problem-solving instead of prescribing it.
Some see agriculture and environmental protection as opposing forces. I don’t. Western producers are among the best land and water stewards in the country. They maintain open space, habitat and carbon sinks that benefit everyone. I’ve sat at tables with producers who have reworked their operations to improve fish passage, upgrade irrigation efficiency or share water during drought—all while staying in business. These efforts rarely make headlines, but they’re where real progress happens.
That’s why I believe the most productive conversations about western water begin not with politics but with respect—respect for the people who work the land, for the science that informs good management and for the complexity of the systems we rely on.
After 37 years in this field, I’ve learned to keep a long view. The West has faced tough water years before, and we’ve adapted. But the challenges ahead—climate shifts, population growth and legal uncertainty—will test us in new ways. Meeting them will take more than technical expertise; it will take trust.
That means farmers and ranchers engaging constructively with policymakers and conservation partners. It means agencies listening to the people who know the land best. And it means keeping the focus on workable solutions rather than ideology.
At its heart, this isn’t just a policy issue—it’s about preserving a way of life that sustains food production, wildlife habitat and rural economies across the region. The West’s water future won’t be secured by division or nostalgia. It will depend on collaboration, pragmatism and the quiet determination of those who understand that shared challenges demand shared commitment.
I’ve spent a career watching people who depend on water learn to live with its unpredictability. That same resilience can guide us now—if we let it. Because when the last irrigation turn of the season comes and the ditches run dry, the one thing we all count on is each other. — Dan Keppen, Klamath Falls, OR
Dan Keppen has spent nearly four decades working on western water issues as an engineer, manager and advocate for irrigated agriculture. He will be stepping down at the end of October after serving 20 years in his position as executive director of the Family Farm Alliance.
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