The real questions about the UK government’s decision to cancel the Swansea Bay Tidal Lagoon

An artist’s impression of the tidal lagoon. Image: Tidal Lagoon Power.

The UK government’s refusal to support the Swansea Bay Tidal Lagoon pathfinder project says much about how Britain proposes to face the challenges of the 21st century. Although the decision was widely expected, it still came as a severe blow to the communities in and around Swansea Bay.

But over and above the local reaction, the decision speaks volumes about the UK government’s commitment to three larger questions: mission-led innovation, rebalancing the UK economy and sustainable development.

Thanks to the popularity of Mariana Mazzucato’s work on mission-led innovation policy, the UK government has adopted this rhetoric when presenting its industrial strategy to support the technologies and industries of the future. At the heart of the new industrial policy paradigm is a joint effort between governments and business to engage in a constant dialogue to generate information about the scope for, and the barriers to, innovation. Governments play an enormously important role in catalysing new technologies and helping launch new industries by mitigating risk, an important consideration when dealing with sectors like renewable energy.

A map of the proposed project. Image: Atkins Global.

Given the need for close collaboration between government and industry, the most extraordinary aspect of the SBTL saga is that, according to Keith Clarke, the chairman of Tidal Lagoon Power, the company behind the project had heard “next to nothing” from the UK government for the past two years. So where was the partnership approach that ought to lie at the heart of mission-led innovation policy? 

The Swansea Bay Tidal Lagoon was described as a “no regrets” project by the Hendry Review that was commissioned by the same department that rejected the project last week. The Review concluded that tidal lagoons would help to deliver security of energy supply; help meet our decarbonisation commitments; and stimulate a new UK industry. The cost of a small scale pathfinder project would be about 30p per UK household per year over the first 30 years.

But the costs and the risks need to be framed over a 120 year lifespan, which makes it a totally different proposition to wind and solar (which have shorter operational lives) and nuclear (which has large waste disposal costs) – all problems that are absent from the tidal option.

The compelling vision of tidal lagoons is that the Swansea pathfinder was designed to be the first in a series of larger lagoons in which costs would certainly have decreased – as Charles Hendry suggested – through scale effects and through learning-by-doing. The UK government thus seems to have lost its ambition for mission-led innovation in the renewable energy sector.


Another policy to which the UK government is ostensibly committed is the rebalancing of the economy. This commitment was widely interpreted to mean sectoral and spatial rebalancing to render the UK less dependent on sectors like financial services and less tilted to South East England. The SBTL project was an ideal candidate to meet these twin goals because it both created a new global industry (with manufacturing located across the UK), and is located in West Wales, a “less developed region” in the EU regional classification. Creating a new industry in an old industrial region would have signalled that the UK government was genuinely committed to rebalancing the economy ahead of Brexit – but there is little evidence to suggest that such benefits were taken seriously.

Finally, the decision raises major doubts about the UK government’s commitment to sustainable development.  The Welsh Government is duty bound to take sustainability seriously because it is a requirement of the Well-being of Future Generations Act, the most innovative piece of legislation ever passed by the National Assembly for Wales. The Future Generations Commissioner, Sophie Howe, has said that the SBTL pathfinder was a perfect example of the kind of project that should be supported on sustainability grounds because of its multiple dividends in terms of environmental, social and economic benefits. What does it say about the UK’s commitment to sustainability if it is unable or unwilling to harness the power of the second biggest tidal range in the world, a power that is as predictable as it is sustainable?

The rejection of the SBTL pathfinder is also a challenge to devolved government. The Welsh Government offered to part-fund the pathfinder project to the tune of £200m to demonstrate its political commitment to the project. That commitment will now be tested like never before because it will need to ask itself how, if at all, is it possible to proceed without the support of central government.

As things stand, the rejection of the SBTL project will further embitter inter-governmental relations at a time when the level of trust between London and the devolved administrations in Scotland and Wales is already at an all-time low.      

The authors are Professors at Cardiff University.

 
 
 
 

In New Zealand, climate change is driving an eco-nationalist revival

The green and pleasant land of the South Island. Image: Getty.

“Ten years ago I would have called them settler f*****g land squatters,” Mike Smith, Maori-dom’s most tenacious activist, said last November as he reflected on the agriculture industry’s central role in driving climate change. “Now I have to try and get these people on board.”

Smith is infamous for taking a chainsaw to Auckland’s most prominent tree on a damp October night in 1994 in protest of the “Pākehā” – or white European –dominated government’s fiscal envelope restraining treaty settlements. Now he’s turned his hand to another cause close-to-home for the Maori, New Zealand’s indigenous population: the environment.

“We’re super vulnerable, like we are to anything,” Smith says. “When it comes to climate change it’s like the poorest people in the world are going to be hit the hardest first, and that’s a lot of us.”

Prime Minister Jacinda Ardern appears, at least rhetorically, the most sympathetic leader to his cause in a decade. In her campaign launch speech late last year, she made the future government’s position clear: “Climate change is my generation’s nuclear free moment.”

This message should resonate with followers of her Labour party: the NZ left has long nurtured an environment-orientated “culture-of-protest”. So Ardern’s call to arms was bound to gain her loyal support among children of the 1960s and ‘70s, who led the march against nuclear ship visits, spurring on the government of the time to wriggle out from the US nuclear umbrella, and place a ban on foreign nuclear ship visits.

Now, it is to the tycoons of deep sea oil exploration they aim to close NZ’s ports.

In this, Smith is not short of support locally, with marches run by grassroots organisations and international animal welfare funds beginning to gain traction with every day New Zealanders. In this, Ardern’s prediction is correct: the Coal Action Network Aotearoa (CANA), is reminiscent of the Campaign for Nuclear Disarmament (CND), an earlier cluster of left-wing pacifists and nature lovers who drove the creation of the nuclear free zone.  

In December, 15,000 passionate protesters marched through the capital. And with the government’s recent ban of offshore oil exploration projects, Jeanette Fitzsimons, former Green party co-leader and the head of CANA, is optimistic about similar change to the energy and farming sectors.

The Labour-NZ First-Green party coalition seems focused on setting a new global precedent, weaning NZ away from a United States which has jettisoned the Paris Agreement. The move replicates another 20 years ago, when New Zealand’s anti-nuclear movement was central to an upsurge in New Zealand nationalism. Now, the same sense of going it alone on foreign policy is apparent both locally and in Parliament.

Dr. Gradon Diprose, a senior lecturer at Massey University, argues that this echoes an older expression of colonial nationalism, that saw “New Zealand as a land of natural abundance”. This: “eco-nationalism” is centered on “protecting certain visions of picturesque landscapes and unspoiled natural beauty”. The slogan “Clean, green New Zealand” is prevalent in popular culture and tourism marketing. The public seems to have latched onto it too, and ranked keeping NZ’s waterways “clean and green” top of a recent survey of of kiwis’ top concerns.

Three decades ago, it was the 10 July 1985 sinking of the Greenpeace flagship Rainbow Warrior that thrust local activists’ fears into the public eye, resulting in an almost nation-wide expression of climate-protectionism.


The bombing, a French intelligence operation sparked by Greenpeace’s calls for an end to foreign nuclear testing in the Pacific, galvanised a great deal of change to New Zealand’s overseas defence policies. A lack of censure from New Zealand’s Western allies drove Wellington to distance itself from the United States, while the shock of seeing a friendly nation violate NZ’s sovereignty left many at home seething.

Thirty years on, the foreign policy split throughout the Anglosphere, regarding Russian-Western relations, globalism, and the old international rules-based order, is becoming wider. Climate change is just the tip of the iceberg.

Most Kiwis you talk to will shake their heads in disapproval at US president Donald Trump’s scandalous outing last year in Helsinki. But US defiance of internationally brokered climate resolutions is something they can see clearly reflected in rural communities across the country.

The country saw records broken at both ends of the extreme weather spectrum last year. As 2018 kicked off, Kiwis sweltered through the hottest summer on record, while in Golden Bay, a small inlet near the northern tip of the South Island, residents endured the largest flood in 150 years. So, when President Trump tweets “So much for Global Warming”, the majority of New Zealanders look back fondly on NZ’s 1985 decision to boycott the “ANZUS” treaty, putting New Zealand at odds with its war-time ally America on defence legislation.

Public calls to take the same track on environmental regulation have become louder in the wake of Donald Trump’s election. The former US Secretary of State, Rex Tillerson, received a frosty “unwelcome” while on a flyby to the capital in 2017, with the New York Times’ Washington correspondent, Gardiner Harris remarking: “I’ve never seen so many people flip the bird at an American motorcade as I saw today”. Protests against President Trump’s stance on climate change are beginning to gain greater traction further still, with the hundred-strong “march for science” setting the tone for the new government later that year.

New Zealand certainly isn’t afraid of radicalism, and its activists are persistent. It’s already banned single use plastics in supermarkets. Plenty more is to come, Smith says.

And yes, reform is going to inhibit sometimes vital industries: “It doesn’t matter which way you spin the dice on this, whatever’s being done is going to hurt. People who are looking for a painless way of mitigating climate change, [but] I don’t think there is one.”

But among Smith’s troupe of climate agitators, the feeling is that, without drastic change, “the land”, the heart of the Maori ethos, is going to be hurt far more.

Back in Auckland, NZ’s financial hub, an electric scooter craze is gripping the city. This, too, has gained the support of local environmentalists. In New Zealand, a national sense of pride is always coupled with a certain eccentricity. In a country this size, change always starts small.