The case for onshore wind

The Chancellor’s crusade against onshore wind, whatever the merits with his own backbenchers, is economically ill-judged.

In a straight political fight between George Osborne and Ed Davey, few pundits would have put their money on the Chancellor losing. Not only has the Department of Energy and Climate Change recently lost its Permanent Secretary, in what can only be described as strange circumstances, but a much-trailed cut in subsidy support for onshore wind was kicked into the long grass of the Parliamentary summer recess.

So how is it that when the extent to which subsidies would be cut was finally determined this week it was announced that it would be DECC’s 10 per cent cut rather than the Chancellor’s preferred cut of 25 per cent? There has been so much political debate around wind power that, perhaps, the economic case has been overlooked. Osborne’s case against onshore wind is simply this: wind does not blow all the time, so why should we subsidise a technology that is intermittent, cannot provide the base load of electricity supply and despoils some of the most beautiful landscape in the country which, incidentally, happens to be in Conservative-held seats?

The answer, of course, is that in the long-term we should not. Subsidies should never be a permanent feature of any market. They should be introduced only to address market failure and they should be withdrawn gradually as those distortions in the market are addressed. Treasury economists no doubt recognise the economic rectitude of such a position; whether they can square it with their ongoing subsidies to fossil fuels is entirely a different matter.

Last year, the OECD estimated that in 2010 the subsidies for coal, gas and petrol in the UK amounted to £3.6bn on top of which the Chancellor, in the 2012 budget, has announced further exploration and production subsidies of £65m to develop the West of Shetland fields. Quite what market failures these subsidies are being used to redress is unclear. On the contrary, it would appear that the fossil fuels has an entrenched subsidy culture where such taxpayer handouts are regarded as a right rather than a means of addressing what is an otherwise unlevel playing field. The total subsidy paid to onshore wind amounted to less than £400m in 2010-11 or £6 on the annual bill of the average household. This gives some better sense of proportion about the subsidy onshore wind currently enjoys against the £3.6bn in consumption subsidies that fossil fuels enjoy before the cost of carbon emissions is even factored in.

The real market failure is that the environmental, social and economic cost of greenhouse gas emissions is not properly factored into our fossil fuel price. The government has recognised this and has tried to attribute a price to carbon emissions through the EU Emissions Trading Scheme (ETS). Unfortunately the carbon price has neither been stable enough nor high enough to redress this market failure even for the 40% of the UK’s carbon emissions that are covered by the ETS. This means that fossil fuels are operating in a market that is tilted distinctly in their favour.  Renewables such as onshore wind, and which do not produce polluting carbon emissions, are perhaps entitled to claim therefore that there is a clear justification for being subsidised. Bringing new technologies to the market can be difficult and many technologies have died in the valley that lies between demonstrator prototype and full commercial development. If the UK is to develop world leading renewable technology the Government must be prepared to support them to market. The Renewable Obligation subsidy, brought in under Labour, was designed to do this - supporting new wind generation as technology is successively improved and economies of scale reduce production costs. It is worth noting that it is precisely the positive trajectory of onshore wind that led DECC to argue that the subsidy could be reduced by 10% in the first place.

This trajectory leads some in the industry to predict that onshore wind will be cost competitive with gas by 2020. For this reason the subsidy should progressively be reduced, but, at the same time, the gas sector should increasingly pay the full cost of its carbon emissions which it is currently failing to do. Even if average household electricity consumption remains unchanged (and we should all sincerely hope it reduces dramatically) and even if the subsidy remains unchanged (and it has already come down and will further) the additional cost to a household bill in 2020 as a result of the most optimistic growth forecast in onshore wind would still only be £13 per year. Yet gas produces significant carbon emissions and onshore wind produces none.

The Chancellor’s crusade against onshore wind, whatever the merits with his own backbenchers, is economically ill-judged. What compounds his mistake though, is that he has now demanded additional measures to subsidise gas. Should policy change to ensure we meet our carbon budgets, these investments will prove to be redundant as we will require electricity produced at approximately 50 grams of CO₂e per kilowatt/hour. Gas-fired power stations cannot achieve this. The Chancellor is using public money to subsidise investment in a technology that will be incapable of meeting the legal requirements of the UK’s climate Change Change Act.

Barry Gardiner is the Labour MP for Brent North and Ed Miliband's Special Envoy on Climate Change and the Environment

The Whitelee onshore windfarm in Scotland. Photograph: Getty Images

Barry Gardiner is Labour MP for Brent North and shadow minister for Energy and Climate Change. 

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Why do the words “soup, swoop, loop de loop” come to mind every time I lift a spoon to my lips?

It’s all thanks to Barry and Anita.

A while ago I was lending a friend the keys to our house. We keep spare keys in a ceramic pot I was given years ago by someone who made it while on an art-school pottery course. “That’s er . . . quite challenging,” the friend said of the pot.

“Is it?” I replied. “I’d stopped noticing how ugly it is.”

“Then it’s a grunty,” she said.

“A what?” I asked.

“A grunty. It’s something you have in your house that’s hideous and useless but you’ve stopped noticing it completely, so it’s effectively invisible.”

I was much taken with this idea and realised that as well as “grunties” there are also “gruntyisms”: things you say or do, though the reason why you say or do them has long since been forgotten. For example, every time we drink soup my wife and I say the same thing, uttered in a strange monotone: we say, “Soup, swoop, loop de loop.” How we came to say “soup, swoop, loop de loop” came about like this.

For a married couple, the years between your mid-thirties and your late forties might be seen as the decade of the bad dinner party. You’re no longer looking for a partner, so the hormonal urge to visit crowded bars has receded, but you are still full of energy so you don’t want to stay in at night, either. Instead, you go to dinner parties attended by other couples you don’t necessarily like that much.

One such couple were called Barry and Anita. Every time we ate at their house Barry would make soup, and when serving it he would invariably say, “There we are: soup, swoop, loop de loop.” After the dinner party, as soon as we were in the minicab going home, me and Linda would start drunkenly talking about what an arse Barry was, saying to each other, in a high-pitched, mocking imitation of his voice: “Please do have some more of this delicious soup, swoop, loop de loop.” Then we’d collapse against each other laughing, convincing the Algerian or Bengali taxi driver once again of the impenetrability and corruption of Western society.

Pretty soon whenever we had soup at home, Linda and I would say to each other, “Soup, swoop, loop de loop,” at first still ridiculing Barry, but eventually we forgot why we were saying it and it became part of the private language every couple develop, employed long after we’d gratefully ceased having soupy dinners with Barry and Anita.

In the early Nineties we had an exchange student staying with us for a year, a Maori girl from the Cook Islands in the southern Pacific. When she returned home she took the expression “soup, swoop, loop de loop” with her and spread it among her extended family, until finally the phrase appeared in an anthropological dissertation: “ ‘Soup swoop, loop de loop.’ Shamanistic Incantations in Rarotongan Food Preparation Rituals” – University of Topeka, 2001. 

This article first appeared in the 21 July 2016 issue of the New Statesman, The English Revolt