Tom Bishop is executive chairman for Europe, Middle East and India at URS
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New perceptions

The long-term benefits of an “infrastructure renaissance” will never be realised unless we tackle the engineering skills gap at classroom level.

Transport Secretary Patrick McLoughlin must be thanking his lucky stars that he took up office at such a promising time for British infrastructure. Back in the depths of the financial downturn, just a few short years ago, his predecessors could scarcely have dreamt of presiding over such a potential upturn in the nation’s transport system.

Today, plans for HS2 are steaming ahead and the coalition government is putting together an Infrastructure Act to kickstart major projects amounting to £36bn. Innovative forms of project finance are expected, which should attract significant funding from overseas investors.

While I share Mr McLoughlin’s general optimism, there are, however, some big questions that may be easily overlooked in the broader public debate about Britain’s hoped-for transport renaissance.

First, how committed is the government to taking a more long-term approach to infrastructure planning? Can it escape the understandable short-term demands of party politics? We will hopefully hear more about the government’s broader approach in the forthcoming Infrastructure Act, or indeed in the 2014 Autumn Statement, expected in early December.

Second, and of equal importance, where are we going to find the army of highly qualified British engineers needed to build all these ambitious projects? The challenges of long-term infrastructure development go far beyond transport policy. Both phases of HS2 are unlikely to be completed before the early 2030s, for example, and if ministers are looking at projects with outcomes measured in decades, it is critical that we address an education system that is apparently failing to interest young people in engineering.

The UK faces a growing shortage of suitably qualified graduates. And the skills shortfall will continue to deteriorate, with an estimated 2.2 million entrants to the industry needed nationally over the next five to ten years. That is what it will take to satisfy a projected 40 per cent growth rate in a sector that already makes up nearly a fifth of the total UK workforce.

Slim chance, however, that our schools are well positioned to meet this demand when, according to industry surveys, only half of 11 to 14-year-olds would consider engineering as a career, and only around 7 per cent aspire to join the profession.

Efforts, admittedly, are being made, through initiatives such as Tomorrow’s Engineers, which seeks to incorporate engineering into school curricula. Yet the challenge goes, perhaps, far deeper than education policy. It touches the entire way in which the profession is viewed by the general public. Astonishingly, around 60 per cent of Britain’s engineers believe that the term “engineer” is not properly understood in the wider world. It is hard to imagine doctors or lawyers feeling the same level of misunderstanding.

Changing such deep-rooted perceptions will be no easy task. But such an important issue surely merits a reappraisal of our approach to education if Britain is to fully exploit the job-creating potential of long-term infrastructure projects. And that needs to start in the classroom. Initiatives to promote engineering ought to be considered as a core plank of curriculum planning, backed up by a campaign of mentoring and special financial incentives to promote interest in degrees.

As a first step, I’d call for a dedicated steering group of industry figures, education leaders and relevant government figures to tackle this important challenge.

Perhaps such a proposal could be integrated into the kind of independent commission on infrastructure proposed by Sir John Armitt, the chairman of the Olympic Delivery Authority and former chief executive of Network Rail? In many respects, Sir John’s thinking helps address my concern about Britain’s ability to benefit from all the advantages of a growing transport infrastructure. I support his proposals to focus our strategic thinking on transport requirements over the next 25 to 30 years, in a way which transcends party political boundaries.

As things stand, there is a risk of investment priorities being chopped and changed with every new government. Hence, how then can the big engineering employers plan for the future? How can the dependent supply chains look for any sustainable long-term revenue growth, recruiting to their fullest with real confidence that the demand for new jobs will be maintained?

With these uncertainties, one begins to see why engineering is struggling to win over potential recruits.

Unless steps are taken to shore up the long-term sustainability of the industry, the nation’s talented youngsters will continue to choose more reliable careers.

I have no doubt that our Transport Secretary can contribute much to this debate. But cross-party consensus is vital if we are to build a deep-rooted infrastructure policy that is truly fit for the future.

Tom Bishop is executive chairman for Europe, Middle East and India at URS

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Why is it called Storm Doris? The psychological impact of naming a storm

“Homes being destroyed and lives being lost shouldn’t be named after any person.”

“Oh, piss off Doris,” cried the nation in unison this morning. No, it wasn't that everyone's local cantankerous old lady had thwacked our ankles with her stick. This is a different, more aggressive Doris. Less Werther’s, more extreme weathers. Less bridge club, more bridge collapse.

This is Storm Doris.

A storm that has brought snow, rain, and furious winds up to 94mph to parts of the UK. There are severe weather warnings of wind, snow and ice across the entire country.

But the real question here is: why is it called that? And what impact does the new Met Office policy of naming storms have on us?

Why do we name storms?

Storm Doris is the latest protagonist in the Met Office’s decision to name storms, a pilot scheme introduced in winter 2015/16 now in its second year.

The scheme was introduced to draw attention to severe weather conditions in Britain, and raise awareness of how to prepare for them.

How do we name storms?

The Name our Storms initiative invites the public to suggest names for storms. You can do this by tweeting the @metoffice using the #nameourstorms hashtag and your suggestion, through its Facebook page, or by emailing them.

These names are collated along with suggestions from Met Éireann and compiled into a list. These are whittled down into 21 names, according to which were most suggested – in alphabetical order and alternating between male and female names. This is done according to the US National Hurricane Naming convention, which excludes the letters Q, U, X, Y and Z because there are thought to be too few common names beginning with these letters.

They have to be human names, which is why suggestions in this list revealed by Wired – including Apocalypse, Gnasher, Megatron, In A Teacup (or Ena Tee Cup) – were rejected. The Met Office received 10,000 submissions for the 2016/17 season. According to a spokesperson, a lot of people submit their own names.

Only storms that could have a “medium” or “high” wind impact in the UK and Ireland are named. If there are more than 21 storms in a year, then the naming system starts from Alpha and goes through the Greek alphabet.

The names for this year are: Angus (19-20 Nov ’16), Barbara (23-24 Dec 2016), Conor (25-26 Dec 2016), Doris (now), Ewan, Fleur, Gabriel, Holly, Ivor, Jacqui, Kamil, Louise, Malcolm, Natalie, Oisín, Penelope, Robert, Susan, Thomas, Valerie and Wilbert.

Why does this violent storm have the name of an elderly lady?

Doris is an incongruous name for this storm, so why was it chosen? A Met Office spokesperson says they were just at that stage in their list of names, and there’s no link between the nature of the storm and its name.

But do people send cosy names for violent weather conditions on purpose? “There’s all sorts in there,” a spokesperson tells me. “People don’t try and use cosy names as such.”

What psychological impact does naming storms have on us?

We know that giving names to objects and animals immediately gives us a human connection with them. That’s why we name things we feel close to: a pet owner names their cat, a sailor names their boat, a bore names their car. We even name our virtual assistants –from Microsoft’s Clippy to Amazon’s Alexa.

This gives us a connection beyond practicality with the thing we’ve named.

Remember the response of Walter Palmer, the guy who killed Cecil the Lion? “If I had known this lion had a name and was important to the country or a study, obviously I wouldn’t have taken it,” he said. “Nobody in our hunting party knew before or after the name of this lion.”

So how does giving a storm a name change our attitude towards it?

Evidence suggests that we take it more seriously – or at least pay closer attention. A YouGov survey following the first seven named storms in the Met Office’s scheme shows that 55 per cent of the people polled took measures to prepare for wild weather after hearing that the oncoming storm had been named.

“There was an immediate acceptance of the storm names through all media,” said Gerald Fleming, Head of Forecasting at Met Éireann, the Irish metereological service. “The severe weather messages were more clearly communicated.”

But personalising a storm can backfire. A controversial US study in 2014 by PNAC (Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences) claimed that hurricanes with female names lead to higher death tolls – the more “feminine” the name, like Belle or Cindy, the higher the death toll. This is not because female names are attached to more severe storms; it is reportedly because people take fewer steps to prepare for storms with names they perceive to be unintimidating or weak.

“In judging the intensity of a storm, people appear to be applying their beliefs about how men and women behave,” Sharon Shavitt, a co-author of the study, told the FT at the time. “This makes a female-named hurricane . . . seem gentler and less violent.”

Names have social connotations, and affect our subconscious. Naming a storm can raise awareness of it, but it can also affect our behaviour towards it.

What’s it like sharing a name with a deadly storm?

We should also spare a thought for the impact sharing a name with a notorious weather event can have on a person. Katrina Nicholson, a nurse who lives in Glasgow, says it was “horrible” when the 2005 hurricane – one of the fifth deadliest ever in the US – was given her name.

“It was horrible having something so destructive associated with my name. Homes being destroyed and lives being lost shouldn’t be named after any person,” she tells me over email. “I actually remember at the time meeting an American tourist on a boat trip in Skye and when he heard my name he immediately linked it to the storm – although he quickly felt guilty and then said it was a lovely name! I think to this day there will be many Americans who hate my name because of it.”

Anoosh Chakelian is senior writer at the New Statesman.