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The NS Interview: Bjørn Lomborg

“I didn’t want to be the gay guy who talks about the environment”.

You started life as a statistician. What sparked your interest in the environment?
I found university a little dispiriting. I thought I would enter the great halls of Plato, but instead I entered the halls of an intellectual sausage factory. I wanted to do something not on the main course, and chose the environment.

What is your position on global warming?
Global warming is real - it is man-made and it is an important problem. But it is not the end of the world.

You have been branded a climate-change denier. Have you changed your mind?
No, I haven't changed my mind, but the global warming debate is so polarised that there is space for only two possible viewpoints: either it's the end of the world, or you think it is the greatest hoax ever perpetrated. Because I dared to be sceptical, a lot of people pushed me into the deniers' camp.

Are you still sceptical?
I have been sceptical all along, but about the ­solution. Our current solution - the Kyoto approach - doesn't work.

What's not working?
The UN summits are PR vehicles for politicians so they can all get together and look like they're doing something.

What's your view of the UN Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change?
I would say 90 per cent of what the panel tells us is right, which is pretty good for a very complex subject. But the UN-led policy solutions are incredibly poor.

So what's your solution?
We need to invest dramatically in green energy, making solar panels so cheap that everybody wants them. Nobody wanted to buy a computer in 1950, but once they got cheap, everyone bought them.

How did it feel when critics accused you of being scientifically dishonest in your book The Sceptical Environmentalist?
I always felt, when people were attacking me, that they were attacking the idea. When the dishonesty decision got reviewed by the Danish ministry of science, they found that it was factually vacuous, so it was overturned.

Do you enjoy provoking controversy?
No. A lot of people think I do, but I would love the day when we don't need my voice in the debate any more.

What was your view of the Climategate scandal at the University of East Anglia?
There was poor intent and bad will involved on the part of the researchers, but I also think it was vastly overplayed.

Do you think it had a damaging effect? Fewer people now believe in climate change.
Climategate was only a touch point for that; it is not the main reason. We have been scared silly for a number of years and eventually you tire of being scared silly.

Do you blame the activists for that?
It's not just activists; there's Al Gore, for example. We shouldn't base policy decisions on fear.

Are you involved in politics?
No. I have great respect for politicians; they do a difficult and often thankless job. But I'm not politically active.

Do you believe David Cameron will deliver the "greenest government ever"?
I'm not surprised that's a quotation from him, but that doesn't seem to be where they're putting their money. In Britain, I see an incredible split between stating what you'd like to see and making the policies for that to happen.

Do you have religious faith of any kind?
I tentatively believe in a God. I was brought up in a fairly religious home. I think the world is compatible with reincarnation, karma, all that stuff. But fundamentally, you have to do good in this life towards your fellow man, so I guess I'm a humanist with the potential of [believing in] a God.

You've said that being openly gay is a civic responsibility. What do you mean?
When I grew up, I didn't see many likeable role models. You could either be a ballet dancer or someone extreme whom people would snigger at. I'd like to show the next generation that you can be regular, ordinary and successful.

How has your sexuality affected your career?
I didn't want to be the gay guy who talks about the environment. I wanted to be the guy who talks about the environment who happens to be gay. I think that has turned out pretty well.

Is there a plan?
In the larger scheme, no. There have been meso plans, but not meta plans.

Are we all doomed?
No. If you look across the centuries, we have created problems, but we've solved more. Our ingenuity seems to be an unlimited resource.

Defining Moments

1965 Born on 6 January
1994 Receives PhD from the University of Copenhagen
1998 Publishes his first articles on the environment, causing media furore
2001 Publishes his book The Sceptical Environmentalist
2003 Cleared of "scientific dishonesty"
2004 Launches Copenhagen Consensus
2010 Calls for $100bn to be invested each year to fight climate change

Sophie Elmhirst is features editor of the New Statesman

This article first appeared in the 27 September 2010 issue of the New Statesman, The 50 people who matter

Biteback and James Wharton
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“It was the most traumatic chapter of my life”: ex-soldier James Wharton on his chemsex addiction

One of the British Army’s first openly gay soldiers reveals how he became trapped in a weekend world of drug and sex parties.

“Five days disappeared.” James Wharton, a 30-year-old former soldier, recalls returning to his flat in south London at 11pm on a Sunday night in early March. He hadn’t eaten or slept since Wednesday. In the five intervening days, he had visited numerous different apartments, checked in and out of a hotel room, partied with dozens of people, had sex, and smoked crystal meth “religiously”.

One man he met during this five-day blur had been doing the same for double the time. “He won’t have been exaggerating,” Wharton tells me now. “He looked like he’d been up for ten days.”

On Monday, Wharton went straight to his GP. He had suffered a “massive relapse” while recovering from his addiction to chemsex: group sex parties enhanced by drugs.

“Crystal meth lets you really dig in, to use an Army term”

I meet Wharton on a very different Monday morning six months after that lost long weekend. Sipping a flat white in a sleek café workspace in Holborn, he’s a stroll away from his office in the city, where he works as a PR. He left the Army in 2013 after ten years, having left school and home at 16.


Wharton left school at 16 to join the Army. Photo: Biteback

With his stubble, white t-shirt and tortoise shell glasses, he now looks like any other young media professional. But he’s surfacing from two years in the chemsex world, where he disappeared to every weekend – sometimes for 72 hours straight.

Back then, this time on a Monday would have been “like a double-decker bus smashing through” his life – and that’s if he made it into work at all. Sometimes he’d still be partying into the early hours of a Tuesday morning. The drugs allow your body to go without sleep. “Crystal meth lets you really dig in, to use an Army expression,” Wharton says, wryly.


Wharton now works as a PR in London. Photo: James Wharton

Mainly experienced by gay and bisexual men, chemsex commonly involves snorting the stimulant mephodrone, taking “shots” (the euphoric drug GBL mixed with a soft drink), and smoking the amphetamine crystal meth.

These drugs make you “HnH” (high and horny) – a shorthand on dating apps that facilitate the scene. Ironically, they also inhibit erections, so Viagra is added to the mix. No one, sighs Wharton, orgasms. He describes it as a soulless and mechanical process. “Can you imagine having sex with somebody and then catching them texting at the same time?”

“This is the real consequence of Section 28”

Approximately 3,000 men who go to Soho’s 56 Dean Street sexual health clinic each month are using “chems”, though it’s hard to quantify how many people regularly have chemsex in the UK. Chemsex environments can be fun and controlled; they can also be unsafe and highly addictive.

Participants congregate in each other’s flats, chat, chill out, have sex and top up their drugs. GBL can only be taken in tiny doses without being fatal, so revellers set timers on their phones to space out the shots.

GBL is known as “the date rape drug”; it looks like water, and a small amount can wipe your memory. Like some of his peers, Wharton was raped while passed out from the drug. He had been asleep for six or so hours, and woke up to someone having sex with him. “That was the worst point, without a doubt – rock bottom,” he tells me. “[But] it didn’t stop me from returning to those activities again.”

There is a chemsex-related death every 12 days in London from usually accidental GBL overdoses; a problem that Wharton compares to the AIDS epidemic in a book he’s written about his experiences, Something for the Weekend.


Wharton has written a book about his experiences. Photo: Biteback

Wharton’s first encounter with the drug, at a gathering he was taken to by a date a couple of years ago, had him hooked.

“I loved it and I wanted more immediately,” he recalls. From then on, he would take it every weekend, and found doctors, teachers, lawyers, parliamentary researchers, journalists and city workers all doing the same thing. He describes regular participants as the “London gay elite”.

“Chemsex was the most traumatic chapter of my life” 

Topics of conversation “bounce from things like Lady Gaga’s current single to Donald Trump”, Wharton boggles. “You’d see people talking about the general election, to why is Britney Spears the worst diva of them all?”

Eventually, he found himself addicted to the whole chemsex culture. “It’s not one single person, it’s not one single drug, it’s just all of it,” he says.



Wharton was in the Household Cavalry alongside Prince Harry. Photos: Biteback and James Wharton

Wharton feels the stigma attached to chemsex is stopping people practising it safely, or being able to stop. He’s found a support network through gay community-led advice services, drop-ins and workshops. Not everyone has that access, or feels confident coming forward.

“This is the real consequence of Section 28,” says Wharton, who left school in 2003, the year this legislation against “promoting” homosexuality was repealed. “Who teaches gay men how to have sex? Because the birds and the bees chat your mum gives you is wholly irrelevant.”


Wharton was the first openly gay soldier to appear in the military in-house magazine. Photo courtesy of Biteback

Wharton only learned that condoms are needed in gay sex when he first went to a gay bar at 18. He was brought up in Wrexham, north Wales, by working-class parents, and described himself as a “somewhat geeky gay” prior to his chemsex days.

After four years together, he and his long-term partner had a civil partnership in 2010; they lived in a little cottage in Windsor with two dogs. Their break-up in 2014 launched him into London life as a single man.

As an openly gay soldier, Wharton was also an Army poster boy; he appeared in his uniform on the cover of gay magazine Attitude. He served in the Household Cavalry with Prince Harry, who once defended him from homophobic abuse, and spent seven months in Iraq.


In 2012, Wharton appeared with his then civil partner in Attitude magazine. Photo courtesy of Biteback

A large Union Jack shield tattoo covering his left bicep pokes out from his t-shirt – a physical reminder of his time at war on his now much leaner frame. He had it done the day he returned from Iraq.

Yet even including war, Wharton calls chemsex “the most traumatic chapter” of his life. “Iraq was absolutely Ronseal, it did exactly what it said on the tin,” he says. “It was going to be a bit shit, and then I was coming home. But with chemsex, you don’t know what’s going to happen next.

“When I did my divorce, I had support around me. When I did the Army, I had a lot of support. Chemsex was like a million miles an hour for 47 hours, then on the 48th hour it was me on my own, in the back of an Uber, thinking where did it all go wrong? And that’s traumatic.”

Something for the Weekend: Life in the Chemsex Underworld by James Wharton is published by Biteback.

Anoosh Chakelian is senior writer at the New Statesman.

This article first appeared in the 27 September 2010 issue of the New Statesman, The 50 people who matter