More than 1 billion people do not have access to clean drinking
water.
Australia has
suffered a decade-long, continent-wide
drought. Even seemingly water rich places, like
Atlanta,
Georgia, can’t
get enough water. Many are talking of a
global water crisis. Except, as
Charles
Fishman aptly states it in
The Big
Thirst, “There is no global water crisis, there are a thousand water
crises, each distinct.”
I think the story of Atlanta and
Lake Lanier,
as told recounted by Fishman, is especially instructive. Lake Lanier on the
Chatahoochee
River is the source of 75 percent of the water used by Atlanta, 5 million
gallons a day. A drought in
2007-
2008 brought the
level of the lake dangerously low, prompting downstream states to sue over the
amount of water Atlanta was taking. The
federal court declared that Atlanta had been illegally receiving water from the
lake and had to find another source.
Atlanta has a lot of resources, barely tapped conservation efforts, reuse,
and alternative supplies, but with a lack of
political
will,
leadership,
and vision, it leaders threw up their hands in impotent defiance of the court
and whined they must have Lake Lanier water.
When the lake was built, Atlanta passed on paying for a piece of it
thinking it would never be needed, and now they think they can’t live without
it.
Part of the point Fishman makes it that water crises are more often
than not political crises. There is a
lack of political will and sense of necessity, even though the problems can be
plain and the solutions within reach.
The Big Thirst includes examples from
around the world (the
United States,
India, and
especially Australia) where people are facing water problems. Happily, many of them have taken a more
realistic and reasonable approach than Atlanta.
Fishman is going for something deeper, though. Our political and
economic
stumbling in the area of water
management
stems for our
cultural
relationship with water. It is obviously
necessary for life. We also consider it
beautiful, it is part of our landscape, and in some places it has important
religious
significance. Even so, we have
difficulty understanding the value of water, comparing one use to another,
assigning responsibility for its distribution and quality, acknowledging the
infrastructure needed to have water when and where it is needed. It the West, where for the last century we
have enjoyed incredible access to abundant water, we hardly ever think about
water unless we have some professional connection to it.
We can’t continue to be mindless of water. The systems of water abundance we built in
the last century aren’t sustainable without major ongoing investment. In light of
climate
change, they may be altogether unsustainable. Even without climate change, much of our
water
policy
dates to a time of unusual water abundance.
Fishman encourages water mindfulness.
We need to reconnect to water. In
part, this reconnecting means understanding what it means to have water in our
homes and in our streams. It is also
connecting to how critical water is to
food,
energy,
commerce,
health,
and almost every aspect of life. Our
decisions about water need to be rooted in reality.
If you’re interested in this book, you may also be interested in
This review of The Big Thirst
by Charles Fishman appears courtesy of Keenan’s
Book Reviews, were you can find
more books about water.
