Is Water Wet? A Scientific and Philosophical Question Explored

Although it may seem like a simple or even silly question, asking "Is water wet?" pushes us to investigate more profoundly the fundamental nature of water and the very idea of wetness. Our daily encounters with water make its nature seem obvious, yet even its most basic properties involve some complex and subtle science. Those properties, in turn, connect to the fundamental forces and kinds of matter that make up the physical world.

First, let's start with a definition of "wet." Wetness is usually understood as the state of being saturated with a liquid, and water is the liquid we most often think of when we think of wetness. An object can only be truly wet, in the way we understand the term, if it has water on it. Take, for example, a towel. When a towel has water in it, the towel is wet—at least on those parts of the towel where the water is present. Those water molecules are clinging to the fibers of the towel, and they're doing it in a way that makes it impossible for the individual fibers to be in something other than their most basic state—a fibrous state. But this isn't the whole story, is it?

Scientifically, wetness is an interaction that occurs when a liquid is in contact with a solid surface. For something to be considered wet, it must be a solid covered by a liquid. That clearly doesn't apply to water. Even a droplet of water is not wet in and of itself, because it doesn't have a solid surface that is covered by another liquid. The only time that water creates a condition of wetness is when it is in contact with something that is not water.

Nonetheless, this argument can be countered by considering the properties of water at the molecular level. Water molecules exhibit both cohesive and adhesive properties due to hydrogen bonding. Cohesion refers to the attraction between water molecules, and adhesion refers to the attraction between water molecules and other substances. When water comes into contact with a solid, it adheres to the surface, creating the layer of H2O that our brains interpret as wet. So one could say water is wet because it has the ability to make the surfaces it interacts with adhere to its way of being, which is also the "way of being" associated with adhesiveness and, hence, with wetness.

From a philosophical standpoint, whether water is wet broaches issues of semantics and the use of language in the formation of concepts. Our understanding of a concept is often molded by the words we use to express it. The word "wet" may not successfully express the idea of water and the complex behaviors it exhibits. Some philosophers might assert that wetness is a property exhibited by materials that interact with water. From this viewpoint, water can't be said to be wet in the absence of a solid referent to interact with. This interpretation shines a light on the concept of context with respect to usefulness in definitions and also raises the specter of what's supposed to be the "absolute" in quality judgments.

In addition, the wetness of water can also be looked at from the angle of perception. Our understanding of what wetness is stems mostly from the kinds of experiences we have with it. When we get water on our hands, do we slide our fingers over the surface of a still pond, or do we immerse them in the flowing Colorado River? The way we touch water and the way water interacts with us are mostly in the realm of experience, and they inform our ideas about what wetness is. So here's the thing: If you take the idea of "being wet" as a kind of base level understanding of what a sensory experience can be, then water is experiencing being wet to the greatest possible degree.

In practical terms, the question of whether water is wet may hold little importance in the grand scheme of things. We apply the word "wet" to our encounters with water and other liquids without much fretting over what the word actually means—at least not in any definitive way. Yet, to ponder the question of water's wetness can lead to all sorts of fun and interesting discussions—about language, perception, and the physical properties of materials. And those discussions might shed some light on what it actually means to categorize and define the world around us.

To conclude, the question "Is water wet?" is an interesting way to get into discussions about the nature of liquids, the properties of water, and the philosophy of definitions. From a scientific viewpoint, you might say that water is not wet in the usual sense of the word because "wet" usually describes the condition of a substance in contact with water. In that case, wetness is a kind of description that applies to things that aren't water themselves. But it's hard not to think of water as wet when you consider that, from our perception, it's the most "wet" substance we ever encounter. That's questions—and their seemingly stupid parts—that make philosophy and definitions fun. It's also what can make talk about science and philosophy intersect in our everyday lives.