July 16, 2013
About a year ago Chris Townsend wrote a defence of his opposition to wind farms in the wilderness, a defence notable for its lack of venom and the mindless shrieking about imagined technical issues that infects too much of the opposition to wind power. I unfortunately did not read the article at the time, but came to it late via a tweet last week.
It is so different from much of the bile that pumps from the spout of the Telegraph and the like that it deserves a proper response, even now. To summarise, Townsend argues from a position that has a long history within the environmental movement, dating back to Thoreau and the Transcendalists: that of wilderness being essential for human flourishing. By imposing our own practicalities on the wild – to whit, by concreting it over – we conceal something potentially grander and hence impoverish ourselves. The viewpoint of man is necessarily limited, and by assuming our needs are primary we miss out on manifold other forms of interpretation. An example that Thoreau uses is that of squirrels, which around here are frequently dismissed as tree rats, but from another perspective can be seen as the ‘planters of forests’.
The wilderness allows man to have access to this manifold of interpretation and in contemplating it we are free to grow both intellectually and aesthetically. This approach could be seen as having much in common with Kantian aesthetics, albeit on a much broader scale. By introducing symbols of man’s practicality within the demesne of the wild we break this manifold: an interpretation is forced upon us and shocks us out of our contemplation. Townsend claims that wind turbines play this role, and are an intrusion into the wild.
I wish to argue the opposite, but before I do so we must better understand why the wild is able to play the role that it does. Firstly, it is ostensibly impractical. The wild has no easily perceived use, and only through contemplation and investigation can we see the role it can play. Secondly, it is chaotic. It is not constructed according to a single coherent design, but rather the complex interaction of many forms of life, and forces much larger than life itself. Thirdly, this impractical chaos lends it beauty. The aesthetic of the wild as outlined above is an aesthetic of happenstance and of engagement: beauty lies in the capability of the wild to open new ways of seeing the world.
With the above in tow, it is not clear that man made objects are necessarily excluded from the wild if it can be shown they can manifest the features given above. I claim that wind turbines can. It is frequently claimed by opponents of wind power that they are impractical, being less controllable than the huge coal furnaces they’re more used to getting electricity from. This is true: compared to fossil fuels, wind turbines represent a surrender to nature. But in that surrender there is mystery: they force the user to consider new ways of powering civilisation, ones which are more in line with the forces that determine the shape of the wild. They are chaotic – certainly in output – but in interaction across the country bring a unity of output not of a single design, but of many. In the contemplation of this new world in which the wild moves into civilisation, rather than the other way round, they are certainly beautiful.
The train journey between Carlisle and Edinburgh now goes through what can only be described as a wind farm landscape. It is beautiful. When passing through it, one cannot help but contemplate how our world is changing, and how our very understanding of the previously hermetic worlds of the Wild and the Civilised are changing with it. Thoreau believed that man, through art and literature, could create the wild itself. In placing more of our civilisation in the hands of natural forces, we are bringing the wild home.
February 29, 2012
Timmy doesn’t like wind turbines, or, indeed, anything of the other solutions to climate change which are subsidised. This is fair enough; it’s entirely coherent for any classical liberal to dislike any prospect of rent-seeking that appears to impose costs on the rest of society. In a post on Forbes yesterday, he endorsed a letter from an engineering professor to the Telegraph which criticises ‘premature’ technology deployment – i.e. the deployment of technology before it reaches a level at which it can compete successfully with established tech.
Solar panels, he points out, are frequently described by their advocates as likely to be cost-competitive with coal plant in at most ten years’ time. If this is the case, he argues, then why do we need to spend money subsidising their production? Surely we could just wait ten years and reap all the benefits of clean energy without having to shell out millions of pounds of bill-payers’ money? In fact:
“Another way of making the same point is that instead of deploying subsidy requiring energy production systems now we should be, assuming we are going to do anything about climate change, be putting those resources into the R&D of renewable systems so as to get them to economic efficiency that much the faster.”
On the same day as this post went up, Timmy put the following up on a post about the NHS:
“For there’s something we learned in the short 20 th century, that period betweem 1917 and 1991. Market based systems improve total factor productivity better than centrally planned systems.”
Put simply, markets are the best tool we have for procuring something that we want more cheaply. If we want good quality healthcare that’s free at the point of use, then the cheapest way of ensuring that is by permitting competition within the NHS. If we want cheaper wind turbines and solar panels, we need a market. We need a bunch of people who want to buy these things, and people who compete to sell them to them.
I feel confident enough in this to make the following prediction: solar panels will be cheaper in ten years’ time if we fund a market in them than if we spend the same money throwing boffins at the problem. This is because the market will pay people to spend money on boffins too, boffins with stronger incentives to make the solar panels better.
Now, you can argue whether the current market we have in green energy is the correct shape to properly incentivise increasing productivity. What you can’t do is say that we should have a thing and then say that the best way to get that thing is to fund experts to think really hard about the problem, and then say the exact opposite about another thing. I’m quite frankly shocked that Timmy has decided to eschew his own economic knowledge for that of engineer on this point.