There was a whole folklore of water. People said a man had to make a dipperful go as far as it would. You boiled sweet corn, say. Instead of throwing the water out, you washed the dishes in it. Then you washed your hands in it a few times. Then you strained it through a cloth into the radiator of your car, and if your car should break down you didn’t just leave the water to evaporate in its gullet, but drained it out to water the sweet peas. Wallace Stegner, Wolf Willow, A History, a Story, and a Memory of the Last Plains Frontier.

As the above quote shows, the best water managers in the West have relied on imagination and creativity to get the most out of a drop of water. Some may argue, however, that the quote describes a far simpler time than the present. Today, we use vast amounts of water for purposes frontiersmen never dreamed; we’ve become a bit more particular about water quality, too.

In fact, if you have read the first seven chapters of this report and aren’t confused by now, then you haven’t been paying attention. Tucson’s water situation is a fiendishly complex, multi-dimensional conundrum. Each piece of the puzzle is linked to others, some in obvious ways, some in ways that are far more subtle.

This complexity comes from the innate nature of the resource, as well as the relationships among various factors. For instance, as a physical resource, water involves disciplines ranging from chemistry and microbiology to civil engineering and hydrogeology. In a larger context, water resources are often tied to issues like population growth, property rights and quality of life.

While individual aspects of a particular water issue may be well understood by the research community, the interactions are often poorly understood. This is true within the physical sciences, but is particularly acute when the interactions involve physical sciences, social sciences and the humanities.

To further complicate matters, only a limited community consensus exists on what we are trying to accomplish. We all want a reliable, bountiful, sustainable water supply. We demand that it be safe, palatable, and environmentally benign. And we want it provided to our homes, businesses and parks at the lowest possible cost.

We also want fairness, or equity, as each of us defines it. Here is where the consensus starts to break down. For some, equity means traditional uses of water are favored. Others demand economic equity — those who benefit, pay. In practice, this might mean that those continuing to pump groundwater should subsidize those who switch to renewable supplies. Some want political equity — those who are affected, should decide. This would require new political mechanisms whereby all water users could vote on the candidates and initiatives that determine their water future. And still others are concerned with inter-generational equity. They don’t want today’s consumption decisions to limit the options and quality of life of future Tucsonans.

We also would like less political strife over water. This can tempt us to put off difficult decisions, perhaps by calling for yet another study. Groundwater overdraft is the sort of problem that is easy to ignore. A declining water table is out of sight and out of mind. There is no perceived sense of urgency, no hard deadlines by which we absolutely must act. And so inaction becomes a tempting course.

As tempting and politically expedient as it may be, inaction is itself a form of decision- making, but one rarely based on sound analysis or the expressed preferences of citizens. There are other compelling reasons to act sooner rather than later. Options may diminish over time, or grow more expensive. Political costs often rise over time, too.

The decisions we make, or avoid making in the next few years are likely to have important, lasting consequences. Assuming we act, who should decide on our course? Are technocrats or self-appointed water experts best suited to make the hard decisions? Not likely. The former tend to have deep but narrow knowledge; the latter may offer appealingly simplistic but unproven solutions.

The authors of this report also decline to make recommendations, for two reasons. First, some of the most informed water researchers are among the least certain of how to proceed. (We get confused at times, too.) Second, and more importantly, physical and social scientists simply have no basis for making policy decisions. These water resource issues aren’t about right and wrong decisions. They are about values and priorities, expressed as choices with social consequences.

Does that mean voters must directly decide details of our water strategy, as they have been asked to do recently through initiatives? Is it fair or reasonable to expect a busy, preoccupied electorate to become informed on the nuances of groundwater hydrology and the finer aspects of alternative water purification systems? Clearly not. Rather, it is up to the technocrats to describe possible courses of action, and their respective costs and tradeoffs. Voters must express their beliefs, values, and preferences with respect to water. Then our elected officials must do the heavy lifting of turning this information into sound, long-term water policy.

How then can the reader help make decisions about Tucson’s water future? Part of the process is examining your personal goals and values and then considering what options will best achieve your objectives. No single “magic bullet” is available to assure a long-term, high-quality water supply. Most choices have both benefits and drawbacks.