Arguing about Water

I recently went to Columbus with a few of my friends. There are times where I can hold a wrong opinion in the face of overwhelming reason and data. That day was just such an occasion. On the car ride one of my friends stated that businesses, governments, and organizations were worried about water shortages and that it was quickly developing into a crisis on par with our current oil problems. She was saying this as a way to get a conversation started with all of us in the car, and most likely, especially with me. I knew it was a problem, but I really hated to agree with her.

What caused me to contradict her? Why did I have to win an argument even if I was wrong?

I countered by explaining that water was the most plentiful resource available and that desalination plants were advancing by leaps and bounds. I pointed out that people had similar misgivings about the amount of food that we have, and that current thought holds that our food supply will be okay until we hit about twenty-five billion people. Anyone with a modicum understanding of logic will see the above two fallacies.

My main problem wasn't the data itself, but rather what was being done with that data. Do the corporations actually use it to fix the problem, or do the governments, or does the populous; or do we gnash our teeth in our ivory towers and lament how we are all going to die in an hot, or dry, or foodless, or oilless world. If society is the individual writ large, than my own lamanentations about how insurmountable my own problems are should dictate that I would be better solving my problems than complaining about them. Human society would be best to learn this as well. I get agrevated by the doom and gloom of problems; and, I suppose, I would like things to be rosey and happy all the time like a bad movie.

So when the problem was brought to my attention, I argued against this friend of mine even though I had known her view to be correct. It is sad to admit this error in myself. I had argued her point a week or two earlier. I wasn't in control of the conversation and therefore my pride for wanting to hold the winning position trumped my desire for truth.

This is a common story with human relations. Bush's stance on the Iraq war, the Neocons' stance on the economy, or the Democrats' strong position on various social issues; show that our desire to be right will not only trump what is right but even our own notions of what is right. Admitting we are wrong means others are our equals or our superiors. In a world where we have become like God, we feel a need to set up a strata where we are on top; and being wrong means we are not perfect.

The irony is that the same sensation to tell my friend she was wrong was the same as our desire to not admit the problems with water, or oil, or global warming. I wish I could admit being wrong more often even with my friends.