Why do we let protesters dictate energy policy?

Cuadrilla withdraws from oil expansion in West Sussex.

The activists have won. For now. UK based energy firm Cuadrilla announced last night it is to withdraw from its oil exploration in the village of Balcome in West Sussex.

The firm said that the move is based on police advice due to fears that the protesters would soon embark on a campaign of mass civil disobedience at the heavily fortified site.

Cuadrilla has been drilling for oil in the village but has yet to use the controversial fracking technique the No Dash for Gas group are fighting against.

The move to pull out of the site follows a piece by David Cameron in the Telegraph this week urging the country to get behind fracking operations in the UK not just in the desolate north as Tory peer Lord Howell claimed last month.

In the piece, Cameron talks of the cost of bills, the creation of jobs, the money the work will bring to the local neighbourhoods and finally the minimum damage to our countryside, not once mentioning the larger effects the work will have on the environment, outside that which directly affects the human population and over what timescale.

Though the firm has decided to suspend operations for the time being it will has said it will begin drilling for oil as soon as it is safe to do so, betting that protesters will quickly loose interest while there is no work going on.

But while the protesters have managed to get operations suspended for now, is the way they’ve gone about it helping their cause?

When a firm cites reasons of safety for the temporary end to operations in an industry which, more often than not, works in conditions far less safe than the English countryside you do have to wonder whether the campaigner’s means are justifying the end.

It is headline grabbing, sure, and it is entirely possible that people (especially the papers) would not have the same reaction to the issue without the civil disobedience that so often comes with a large scale protest. But on issues which are far less than black and white, such as that of renewable energy and climate change, should we allow protesters to intimidate and restrict legal operations when the far less harmful and threatening channels of protest remain open to them?

A protest sign in West Sussex. Photograph: Getty Images

Billy Bambrough writes for Retail Banker International at VRL financial news.
 

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Let's face it: supporting Spurs is basically a form of charity

Now, for my biggest donation yet . . .

I gazed in awe at the new stadium, the future home of Spurs, wondering where my treasures will go. It is going to be one of the architectural wonders of the modern world (football stadia division), yet at the same time it seems ancient, archaic, a Roman ruin, very much like an amphitheatre I once saw in Croatia. It’s at the stage in a new construction when you can see all the bones and none of the flesh, with huge tiers soaring up into the sky. You can’t tell if it’s going or coming, a past perfect ruin or a perfect future model.

It has been so annoying at White Hart Lane this past year or so, having to walk round walkways and under awnings and dodge fences and hoardings, losing all sense of direction. Millions of pounds were being poured into what appeared to be a hole in the ground. The new stadium will replace part of one end of the present one, which was built in 1898. It has been hard not to be unaware of what’s going on, continually asking ourselves, as we take our seats: did the earth move for you?

Now, at long last, you can see what will be there, when it emerges from the scaffolding in another year. Awesome, of course. And, har, har, it will hold more people than Arsenal’s new home by 1,000 (61,000, as opposed to the puny Emirates, with only 60,000). At each home game, I am thinking about the future, wondering how my treasures will fare: will they be happy there?

No, I don’t mean Harry Kane, Danny Rose and Kyle Walker – local as well as national treasures. Not many Prem teams these days can boast quite as many English persons in their ranks. I mean my treasures, stuff wot I have been collecting these past 50 years.

About ten years ago, I went to a shareholders’ meeting at White Hart Lane when the embryonic plans for the new stadium were being announced. I stood up when questions were called for and asked the chairman, Daniel Levy, about having a museum in the new stadium. I told him that Man United had made £1m the previous year from their museum. Surely Spurs should make room for one in the brave new mega-stadium – to show off our long and proud history, delight the fans and all those interested in football history and make a few bob.

He mumbled something – fluent enough, as he did go to Cambridge – but gave nothing away, like the PM caught at Prime Minister’s Questions with an unexpected question.

But now it is going to happen. The people who are designing the museum are coming from Manchester to look at my treasures. They asked for a list but I said, “No chance.” I must have 2,000 items of Spurs memorabilia. I could be dead by the time I finish listing them. They’ll have to see them, in the flesh, and then they’ll be free to take away whatever they might consider worth having in the new museum.

I’m awfully kind that way, partly because I have always looked on supporting Spurs as a form of charity. You don’t expect any reward. Nor could you expect a great deal of pleasure, these past few decades, and certainly not the other day at Liverpool when they were shite. But you do want to help them, poor things.

I have been downsizing since my wife died, and since we sold our Loweswater house, and I’m now clearing out some of my treasures. I’ve donated a very rare Wordsworth book to Dove Cottage, five letters from Beatrix Potter to the Armitt Library in Ambleside, and handwritten Beatles lyrics to the British Library. If Beckham and I don’t get a knighthood in the next honours list, I will be spitting.

My Spurs stuff includes programmes going back to 1910, plus recent stuff like the Opus book, that monster publication, about the size of a black cab. Limited editions cost £8,000 a copy in 2007. I got mine free, as I did the introduction and loaned them photographs. I will be glad to get rid of it. It’s blocking the light in my room.

Perhaps, depending on what they want, and they might take nothing, I will ask for a small pourboire in return. Two free tickets in the new stadium. For life. Or longer . . . 

Hunter Davies is a journalist, broadcaster and profilic author perhaps best known for writing about the Beatles. He is an ardent Tottenham fan and writes a regular column on football for the New Statesman.

This article first appeared in the 16 February 2017 issue of the New Statesman, The New Times