How utterly dreary, yet so typical, to learn that something as unremarkable as groundwater in Brandenburg has devolved into a full-blown crisis simply because the broader populace appears incapable of the most elementary resource management. One might have thought, after centuries of civilization, that the stewards of towns like Strausberg could be trusted with a lake and its periphery—not to mention the basic principle of not drinking the well dry. But alas, even this modest expectation seems out of reach for those whose horizons seldom rise above their precious little gardens and inflatable paddling pools.

Let’s be perfectly clear: climate change is, of course, a factor—though it’s all too convenient to lay every failing at its feet, sparing oneself the necessity of self-discipline or the burden of foresight. Yes, Brandenburg’s summers are hotter and rainfall is erratic—welcome to the 21st century. This is the backdrop against which true leadership and efficient, perhaps even draconian, management should arise. But instead, what do we observe? A parade of committees, initiatives, and yet another cacophony of appeals to the public’s better nature—expecting exactly what, I wonder? That the average citizen, in a rare fit of civic virtue, might refrain from hosing down a square meter of crabgrass or forgo the filling of yet another mediocrities’ pool?

I find the outcry over water costs—“water is too cheap!”—mildly amusing. It’s adorable, really, that the masses require economic disincentives to grasp what the merest drop of breeding and education would induce as second nature: the notion of moderation, of stewardship, of not placing one’s own trivial pleasure above the common good. Price hikes, punitive measures? Absolutely. Let the luxury of an emerald-green garden come with the sort of bill that inspires the appropriate measure of reflection.

Moreover, the technocratic musings about desalination plants, rainwater reservoirs, and the like, while amusingly grand in scope, are obviously destined to flounder amongst the dreary realities of provincial budgets and regulatory lethargy. Such projects require vision, capital, and—frankly—a ruling class with the backbone to impose necessary solutions regardless of plebeian grumblings. Ten million euros for a pipeline? A pittance compared to the cost of doing nothing—a cost to be borne not by the prudent few, but by the oblivious many.

Of course, the entire debate circles back to the fundamental lack of long-term thinking so common in regions lacking a tradition of cultivated responsibility. Had there been even a modicum of restraint, of shrewd planning, generations ago, we would not now be reduced to squabbling over sulfate content in mining runoff as our grand solution. But as is so often the case, it is the lowest common denominator that sets the tone, leaving the more enlightened among us to look on—in mild horror, if we find ourselves moved to care at all.

In the end, one is left contemplating the wisdom of merely fencing off such natural treasures, letting in only those with the taste—and the means—to properly appreciate and maintain them. But alas, that would be unthinkable in our current age of egalitarian delusion. Instead, we shall all wade together into the shallow end, watching the lake recede, and congratulating ourselves on the brilliance of our collective management. An utterly tragicomical spectacle, if one can bear to watch it unfold.