The price of tidal power

When did it become OK to save our wildlife at the expense of everyone else’s?

There’s no joy in it but it’s got to be done. We have to press ahead with harvesting the tidal energy of the River Severn, despite the havoc it is likely to wreak on local wildlife, because these days there is no such thing as local wildlife.

When we talk about living in a globalised world, we don’t usually think about nations sharing wildlife. But we are now getting other people’s fish. Bluefin tuna and anchovies are increasingly common in British waters and no doubt we’ll be getting into fights with foreign fishing fleets about them soon. Elsewhere, species of Japanese coral are migrating northwards. A few weeks ago, Australian scientists issued a report into the ocean biodiversity in their region. Rather shockingly, their tropical fish are moving away – those that aren’t dying off in the rapidly warming water are migrating southwards, following the plankton that are being carried on currents that are rising in strength.

You won’t be surprised to hear that the blame for all this flux lies with global warming. Rising temperatures leave the inhabitants of the ocean no choice but to embrace change. Paradoxically, though, taking measures to combat global warming – such as building the Severn barrage to reduce our dependence on fossil fuels – will also force changes on the natural world. It’s now a question of whether we value our creatures more than everyone else’s.

The Severn provides Britain with a golden opportunity to exploit lunar power. The moon’s pull causes earth’s water to bulge out from the surface and the geometry of the Severn creates a bigger bulge than most. The difference between its high and low tide is the second largest in the world; only Canada’s Bay of Fundy can beat the Severn’s 14-metre pile of water.

Hold that heap of water back until just the right moment and the resulting torrent on release is a renewable source of energy. A Severn barrage would provide enough lunar electricity to power 5 per cent of Britain’s homes, equivalent to three nuclear or gas-fuelled power stations. It would also last three times longer – at least. According to projections, the barrage could operate for over a century, compared to the few decades of lifetime offered by a nuclear plant.

A cross-party group of MPs is backing a campaign for the barrage to be built and David Cameron has recently instructed the Energy Secretary, Ed Davey, to look at the proposal. It still might not take off, however. That is because, from a local perspective, it will be an environmental tragedy.

As with any hydroelectric project, holding back the water floods areas that would usually be dry. In the case of the Severn barrage, many of those areas are mudflats designated as sites of special scientific interest: feeding grounds for important bird species. It’s also worth mentioning that forcing the water through electricity-generating turbines at high pressure cannot help but hurt fish populations, too.

No pain, no gain

The consortium looking to build the barrage has come up with a design that, it claims, reduces mudflat loss by 60 per cent and operates at lower pressures, easing the toll on the Severn’s fish. Perhaps there are other mitigation efforts that can be made, such as constructing artificial mudflats at the water’s new edge. Either way, it is hard to see how we can justify holding back the barrage now. We will have to sacrifice some of our cherished natural environment.

As far as carbon-free, sustainable energy generation goes, this is the low-hanging fruit. If we don’t grab it, our continued emissions will have a similar, maybe greater, impact on biodiversity in other places. Yes, it will hurt but when did it become OK to save our wildlife at the expense of everyone else’s?

 

Surfers ride the Severn Bore along the River Severn. Photograph: Getty Images

Michael Brooks holds a PhD in quantum physics. He writes a weekly science column for the New Statesman, and his most recent book is At the Edge of Uncertainty: 11 Discoveries Taking Science by Surprise.

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Byron burgers and bacon sandwiches: can any politician get away with eating on camera?

Memo to aspirant world leaders: eating in public is a political minefield.

Miliband’s sandwich. Cameron’s hot dog. Osborne’s burger. The other Miliband’s banana. As well as excellent names for up-and-coming indie bands, these are just a few examples of now infamous food faux pas committed by British politicians.

During his entire mayoral campaign, Sadiq Khan refused to eat anything in public. When journalist Simon Hattenstone met him in his local curry house for the Guardian, the now-mayor didn’t eat a single bite despite “dish after dish” arriving at the table. Who can blame him? Though Ed Miliband had been pictured blunderingly eating a bacon sandwich an entire year earlier, the national furore around the incident had not yet died down. “He can make me look Clooneyesque or make me look like Ed eating a bacon sandwich,” Khan said of the photographer at the time.

Miliband’s bacon sandwich is now so infamous that I need offer no explanation for the event other than those words. There is an entire Wikipedia page dedicated to the photograph of Ed, lips curled and eyes rolling, as he tucks into that fateful sarnie. Yet politicians frequently bite off more than they can chew – why did Ed’s mishap inspire multiple headlines and an entire front page of The Sun?

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“The momentum got behind the bacon sandwich story because he was awkward, it showed him in a light which was true - he was an awkward candidate in that election,” says Paul Baines, a professor of political marketing at Cranfield University. “He didn’t come across right.”

The photograph of Miliband fit neatly within a pre-existing image of the politician – that he was bumbling, incompetent, and unable to take control. Similarly, when David Cameron was pictured eating a hot dog with a knife and fork months later, the story reinforced popular notions of him as a posh, out-of-touch, champagne-swilling old Etonian. Though Oxford-educated, two-kitchen Miliband is nearly as privileged as Cameron, and Brexit-inducing Dave equally as incompetent as Ed, the pictures would not gain the same popularity in reverse. There are many, many less-than-flattering pictures of Cameron eating, but they didn’t fit into a workable narrative.

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No one, for example, focused on the price of Ed’s sandwich. Purchased at New Covenant Garden Market, it was undoubtedly more expensive than Greggs’ £1.75 bacon roll – but no one cared. When George Osborne was pictured eating an £8 Byron burger whilst cutting £11.5 million from the British budget, however, the picture spoke to many. The then-chancellor was forced to explain that “McDonalds doesn't deliver”, although, as it turned out, Byron didn’t either.

“The idea was to try and display him in a good light – here's a guy eating a burger just like everyone else. The only problem was it was a posh burger and of course he didn't look like everyone else because he was spending ten quid on a burger,” explains Baines.

But Dave, Ed, and George are just the latest in a long, long line of politicians who have been mocked for their eating habits. Across the ocean, Donald Trump has been lambasted for liking his steak well done, while in 1976, Gerald Ford was mocked after biting into the inedible corn husk of a tamale. Why then, do politicians not copy Khan, and avoid being pictured around food altogether?

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“Food connects everybody, food is essentially a connection to culture and the 'every person',” explains Baines. “[Nigel] Farage's appearance in the pub has definitely had a positive impact on how he's perceived by a big chunk of the working class electorate which is an important, sizeable group.” Though Cameron, too, has been pictured with pints, his undeniably weird grasp on the glass make the pictures seem inauthentic, compared to Farage whose pints are clearly at home in his hands. In America, Joe Biden managed to capture the same authenticity with an ice-cream cone.

“I think when it comes across badly is when it comes across as inauthentic,” says Baines. “If I were advising, I certainly wouldn't advise Theresa May to be seen in the pub having a pint, that would not shine with her particular character or style. But could Tim Farron come across better in that way? Possibly but it does have to be authentic.”

Food, then, can instantly make a politician seem in or out of touch. This is especially true when food connects to national identity. Tony Blair, for example, publicly claimed his favourite dish was fish and chips despite earlier saying it was fettuccine with olive oil, sundried tomatoes and capers. In the 1980s, Lord Mandelson allegedly mistook mushy peas for guacamole, insulting us all. In the States, you’d be hard pressed to find a politician who hasn’t been pictured with a hot dog, and there are entire articles dedicated to US politicians who eat pizza with a knife and fork. Again, the food fits a narrative – politicians out of touch with the common person.  

Then again, sometimes, just sometimes, no narrative is needed. We’d advise any candidate who seriously wants a shot in the 2017 General Election to not, under any circumstances, be pictured casually feeding a Solero to an unidentified young woman. 

Amelia Tait is a technology and digital culture writer at the New Statesman.

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