Am I the only person in Ireland who thinks wind turbines are beautiful? Maybe not beautiful in the way that Glendalough is beautiful. Machines can be beautiful too, and knowing how they work and why they are useful definitely helps. When I see turbine blades turning, I am aware that they are harnessing the power of wind to transform mechanical energy into electrical energy. My liking for them is shaped by my understanding of where most of our energy actually comes from, the political economy of fossil fuels, and the destruction they are causing to wildlife, human health and the atmosphere.
We can’t usually see the impact of electricity when it is generated by burning gas, oil or coal. And we’re conveniently spared the visual impact of extraction, mining, spills, refining, leaks, air and water pollution caused by crude oil that arrives here tidily refined as petrol, diesel and kerosene to power our cars and heat our homes. It is worth noting how extraordinarily inefficient fossil fuels actually are: in her book, Carbon, Kate Ervine points out that whereas solar and wind energy can be harnessed for productive use immediately, fossil fuels, as “buried sunshine”, took hundreds of millions of years to form deep underground and, once used, they’re gone.
By contrast, renewable energy is energy that is replaced or replenished naturally, available for use by humans within timescales that match our own existence, if we would only tailor our hunger for energy to what nature can provide. Under this new paradigm, our energy production will have to come into full view. Turbines, solar panels and grid infrastructure will have to be sensitively integrated into our physical and mental landscapes, and there will be a lot of it.
Campaigns to oppose offshore wind farms are gathering pace around Ireland. They demand a ban on turbines within the 12 nautical mile limit, which would effectively rule out all fixed-bottom turbines, which are the most suitable for the Irish waters at the moment. While concerns about impacts of offshore wind turbines on the marine environment are valid, one of the primary concerns driving objections (according to some groups themselves) is the considerable visual intrusion that the turbines will generate. The South East Coastal Protection Alliance claims that offshore wind farms “will spoil the natural and unspoilt seascape of the east coast of Ireland and will have the potential for causing mental health issues”.
One would imagine that the planning process is best placed to mediate environmental disputes. But as Geraint Ellis and other planning experts noted in 2010, “although wind farm debates may hinge on disagreements over empirical ‘facts’, at a deeper level the social acceptability of wind farms is inextricably linked to values, world views and the way localities are related to the wider global environment”. If you are convinced that offshore wind represents the industrialisation of the sea and the loss of pristine nature, environmental efficiency arguments are unlikely to convince you. Nor will analyses and visual impact assessments carried out as part of the planning requirements help to address many people’s concerns, as the value experienced by objectors is often based on landscape identity, including community and cultural identity and strong feelings about what is right and “natural” for a given place.
But somewhere along the way we have missed the opportunity to talk about what our landscapes and seascapes mean to us, and how we can envision renewable energies as appropriate and congruent with their surroundings. The philosopher Yuriko Saito writes about the potential for a civic environmentalism that recognises that solutions to the climate and ecological crisis will need greater ecological literacy and a commitment from citizens’ to improve their environment. She cites the work of landscape artists such as Christo and Jeanne-Claude, whose 1970s work Running Fence added something foreign and unfamiliar to the landscape without spoiling or destroying it. She says that we could learn to appreciate wind technology because not only does it not pollute the air or water nor harm creatures like fossil energy, but because “it also is gratefully accepting and deriving maximum benefit out of the site-specific gift nature is providing – wind and open space. And we can witness this nature’s gift at work in the movement of the blades”.
Letting go of unspoilt views out to sea is a big ask of our coastal communities. But it is important to keep in mind the magnitude of the task that lies ahead to displace the fossil energy system with renewables and the difficult trade-offs it will demand. Most people accept the reality of climate breakdown. Acknowledging it is one thing; following all the implications, wherever they lead, to the extent that it reshapes our values and priorities is another. But we’re running out of both time and choices.
Sadhbh O’Neill is an independent climate and environmental researcher