The recent article on Consciousness of Sheep raises an important point about modern politics and the impossible promises the government is now making.
The impossibility of making any promises at present is not simply political incompetence. It is that industrial society itself is encountering physical and energetic limits which top-down politics cannot overcome.
The evolution to localism is now getting in the way of government planning.
For decades governments assumed that economic growth, rising consumption and expanding technology would continue indefinitely. Elections were fought on promises of more jobs, higher spending, better public services, greener technology, cheaper energy and rising living standards. But all of these assumptions depended upon abundant, cheap surplus energy and increasingly productive industrial systems.
That world is now fading.
The industrial economy depends upon extraordinarily complex and expensive technologies – global supply chains, rare minerals, massive electricity grids, data centres, satellites, AI systems, electric vehicles, industrial agriculture, container shipping and continuous infrastructure replacement.
These systems appear efficient, but only because the hidden energy and material costs are spread across the entire planet.
As the energy cost of obtaining energy rises, the burden of maintaining this complexity also rises. More of society’s effort must go simply into keeping systems operating. Less remains available for discretionary prosperity which impacts the cost of living. It is not yet generally realised that discretionary spending is becoming less affordable, and will do so for the foreseeable future.
This is one reason governments increasingly struggle financially, even as taxes rise.
Technology itself is not disappearing. But the assumption that every new technology, including AI can be expanded indefinitely is now questionable.
Industrial society developed during a unique period of history when dense fossil fuels enabled huge energy surpluses. Those surpluses permitted the growth of mass consumerism, giant cities, global tourism, endless infrastructure expansion and vast bureaucratic states. The government is grappling with the maintenance of this system and has yet to realise that it is unaffordable.
Supposedly “green” technologies depend heavily upon mining, international manufacturing, long-distance transport and vulnerable electricity grids. Recent concerns over electricity system fragility in parts of Europe highlight the growing difficulty of maintaining increasingly complex energy systems that rely on intermittent generation.
This does not mean that UK society will collapses overnight. More likely, it will simplify.
The political implications are profound. Governments can no longer promise prosperity through growth because the underlying energetic conditions which created growth are are no longer available. This explains much of the political fragmentation now occurring across Britain and elsewhere.
Voters sense that established parties no longer control events. Governments inherit problems they cannot solve because the problems are structural rather than ideological.
In this sense, some elections may indeed become “good elections to lose.” Any incoming government, or a rearrangement of an existing one, inherits rising infrastructure costs, failing public services, unaffordable welfare systems, debt burdens, and ageing industrial systems that require vast energy and material inputs simply to maintain current living standards.
The real challenge, therefore, is not how to preserve industrial consumer society exactly as it is, but how to adapt intelligently to a lower-energy future.
This requires a complete rethink of technology itself. Which can only occur if the system of governance is changed.
Future technologies will need to be simpler, repairable, local, durable and less energy-intensive. Instead of assuming that every household needs the constant replacement of electronic devices, endless digital services, and global supply chains, the UK society will have to prioritise technologies that can operate sustainably within local resource limits.
Local food systems, simpler transport, adaptable housing, small-scale manufacturing, practical skills and durable goods will become more valuable than ever-more complex consumer technologies dependent upon fragile global systems.
This is not “going backwards.” It is adaptation.
The industrial age encouraged quantity. The future will have to favour quality, resilience and locality. Much of what industrial society currently calls “progress” may eventually be recognised as temporary surplus-energy behaviour rather than a permanent model for civilisation.
Current UK political approaches (by all parties) will be unable to solve this from the top-down.
The future will depend less on which party wins elections and more on whether the UK society begins to honestly recognise the limits of industrial complexity.
A recent article discussing a 2018 Harvard study has reignited debate about one of the central assumptions of modern climate policy – namely, that large-scale wind energy automatically reduces environmental harm.
The study, published in the academic journal Joule, argued that if the United States were powered predominantly by wind turbines, the turbines themselves would alter local climate conditions by mixing warmer upper air with cooler surface air, especially at night. The result, according to the study, would be measurable local surface warming.
The article presents this as a profound contradiction. If the purpose of decarbonisation is to reduce warming, what happens if one of the principal technologies used to achieve it creates warming of its own?
This issue deserves careful thought, because it reveals something much bigger than a dispute about wind turbines. It highlights the growing tension between industrial-scale technological solutions and the realities of the natural world.
The Harvard study did not say that wind turbines create new heat in the way greenhouse gases trap additional heat in the atmosphere. Instead, the turbines redistribute existing heat through turbulence. Large rotating blades disturb the natural layering of air, especially at night when the atmosphere is calmer. Warmer air from above is mixed downward, slightly raising surface temperatures near large wind installations.
The effect appears to be real and measurable at local scale. However, the way the findings are interpreted politically is another matter entirely.
Supporters of wind power argue that local temperature changes from turbines are fundamentally different from long-term global greenhouse warming.
Critics argue that ordinary people experience local conditions, not global averages, and therefore immediate warming near turbine concentrations matters greatly.
What is striking is not merely the scientific disagreement, but the scale of industrial intervention now being contemplated. Replacing fossil-fuel electricity entirely with wind would require an extraordinary transformation of landscapes. Vast areas of countryside would become energy production zones, filled with turbines, access roads, substations, transmission lines, maintenance systems, and backup infrastructure.
This is where the issue moves beyond climate science into the wider question of how industrial civilisation attempts to solve problems.
Modern societies increasingly assume that every difficulty can be overcome through another layer of technology, finance, regulation, and construction. Yet each solution creates additional complications which then require further solutions. Wind turbines reduce one category of emissions while introducing other effects involving land use, mineral extraction, intermittency, visual impact, ecological disturbance, grid instability, and now possibly local climatic alteration.
The deeper problem may not be wind itself, but scale.
Industrial societies always seek gigantic centralised systems because the entire financial and political structure depends upon continuous expansion.
Energy systems are expected to power endless economic growth, mass mobility, global supply chains, artificial intelligence, data centres, and ever-increasing consumption. Under those conditions, no energy source is ever sufficient for long.
This is why the debate often becomes polarised between supporters of fossil fuels, wind, solar, or nuclear power, when the more fundamental issue concerns the size and expectations of the economy itself.
If societies continue to attempt to maintain present levels of industrial consumption indefinitely, every energy source will face serious consequences.
Fossil fuels contribute to atmospheric carbon accumulation.
Wind requires enormous land transformation and industrial infrastructure.
Solar requires vast mining operations, transmission systems, and large areas of land coverage.
Nuclear introduces long-term waste management, security requirements, and extremely centralised political control.
None of these systems truly escapes the laws of nature. They merely redistribute pressures in different ways.
From the perspective of localism, the most important lesson may be that the future cannot simply be engineered through larger and more complex national systems. Instead, societies may gradually be forced toward lower-energy, more local, and less consumption-driven ways of living.
In such a future, the objective changes completely.
Instead of asking how to sustain infinite industrial growth with alternative energy, communities should begin to ask how to live well with less energy overall.
That change alters everything.
Smaller local economies require less transport.
Local food production reduces dependence on refrigerated global supply chains.
Repair replaces disposal.
Housing adapts to climate rather than depending entirely upon mechanical heating and cooling.
Daily life becomes physically closer to people’s homes.
Under those conditions, energy systems also become smaller, more diverse, and more adapted to locality rather than dominated by gigantic national infrastructures.
This does not necessarily mean wind turbines disappear entirely. Small-scale local generation may still have a role. But the industrial dream of covering whole continents with vast energy machinery begins to look increasingly like another temporary phase of late industrial civilisation rather than a permanent solution.
The Harvard study, therefore, matters less because it proves or disproves wind power and more because it exposes the unintended consequences that emerge whenever industrial society attempts to overpower natural limits with still larger technological systems.
The central issue may not be whether wind turbines warm the air slightly.
The central issue may be whether humanity is finally approaching the point where it must stop trying to sustain unlimited industrial expansion altogether.
There is growing concern about the future availability of artificial fertiliser. This concern is not widely understood by the public, but it deserves attention because modern food production depends heavily on it.
Most people assume fertiliser is simply manufactured from minerals. In fact, the most important fertiliser used in modern farming is nitrogen fertiliser, and this depends mainly on natural gas. It is produced using the Haber-Bosch process, which turns nitrogen from the air into ammonia using large amounts of fossil fuel energy.
About half of the world’s food production now depends on this process.
If natural gas becomes expensive, difficult to import, or less available, fertiliser becomes expensive as well. This creates a direct risk to food production in countries like the United Kingdom, which rely heavily on imported fertiliser.
Artificial fertiliser also has another important characteristic. It is produced almost entirely by large industrial organisations and distributed through long supply chains. Farmers, gardeners, and households cannot make it for themselves. This makes soil fertility dependent on distant production systems rather than local resources.
Because of this, people are beginning to ask whether other methods of maintaining soil fertility could play a larger role in future farming.
One possibility is biochar.
Biochar is a charcoal-like material made by heating wood, crop waste, or plant material without oxygen. It has been used for centuries in parts of the Amazon basin, where it helped create extremely fertile soils that are still productive today.
Modern research shows that biochar improves soil in several ways. It helps soil retain water. It supports beneficial microorganisms. It holds nutrients in place so they are not washed away by rain. It improves soil structure. These effects make existing nutrients work better.
Biochar is not a direct replacement for artificial fertiliser because it does not contain large amounts of nitrogen. Instead, it makes natural fertilisers such as compost, manure, and crop residues more effective. In this way it reduces dependence on industrial fertiliser.
Unlike artificial fertiliser, biochar can be made locally. It can be produced in domestic gardens, on small farms, in woodlands, and by community groups using simple equipment. Larger quantities can be produced by farmers and local enterprises. This makes it especially suited to a localist approach to the future economy, in which essential needs such as food and soil fertility are supported increasingly within each locality rather than supplied entirely through national and international industrial systems.
Biochar is already being used in parts of Africa, India, South America, and increasingly in Europe. In most cases it is produced locally from crop waste or woodland material that would otherwise be burned or discarded.
The United Kingdom has a particular advantage in this area. Much of the country already produces woodland thinnings, hedge cuttings, sawmill residues, and garden waste that could be converted into biochar within localities. This means fertility could increasingly be supported using local biological resources rather than imported fossil fuel products.
Seen in this way, biochar is not simply a soil improvement technique. It is an example of how localism can strengthen resilience by shifting part of the foundation of food production from large industrial supply systems to households, farms, and communities working within their own localities.
Biochar will not replace artificial fertiliser overnight. However, it offers a practical way to strengthen soil fertility while reducing dependence on energy intensive industrial systems. As fertiliser prices rise and supplies become less predictable, approaches like this are likely to become more important.
Footnote:
Duchy estate looking for a regenerative farmer
PRINCE William is on the hunt for a new farmer to take on a 900-acre farm in Herefordshire, with a rare long-term arable farming opportunity announced.
The Duchy of Cornwall has made available Monkhall Farm, a 900-acre holding in Callow, near Hereford, under a 25-year regenerative Farm Business Tenancy (rFBT).
The Duchy is seeking a tenant committed to exploring and embedding regenerative practices in UK agriculture.
Monkhall Farm is about 4 miles away from where the author of this blog lives.
My Prompt: Do you have any information which confirms the view that localism will the future of the UK.
ChatGPT: Yes. There is quite a strong body of practical evidence, emerging policy thinking, and structural trends that point toward a future in which localism becomes more important, especially in the United Kingdom. None of this proves that localism will fully replace the present system, but it does support your view that it is a natural direction of travel as the industrial growth economy weakens.
Although controversial in some places, the direction is unmistakable.
The idea that daily life should happen locally is becoming mainstream.
8. Digital systems unexpectedly reinforce locality rather than replace it 💻
Early expectations were that the internet would dissolve geography.
Instead it has produced:
remote working from home
neighbourhood micro-businesses
local online selling groups
hyper-local volunteering networks
community coordination platforms
Digital tools now support local organisation rather than centralisation alone.
9. Policy thinking is shifting toward “place”
Major institutions increasingly use the language of:
place-based policy
community resilience
neighbourhood delivery
local empowerment
For example, the Tony Blair Institute for Global Change has argued for a shift from top-down systems toward more distributed decision-making power at the level of working communities.
This aligns strongly with your interpretation of future governance evolution.
10. Historically, contraction economies always become more local 📉
When national growth slows or stops:
transport distances shorten supply chains simplify informal exchange increases self-provision rises community cooperation strengthens
This happened in:
1930s Britain
post-Soviet Eastern Europe
Argentina after 2001
Greece after 2008
Localism is not ideological. It is structural.
The strongest confirmation of your view
The most convincing support for your position is this:
Localism does not depend on political agreement to happen.
It emerges naturally when:
mobility falls energy tightens populations age systems become expensive central services overstretch
That combination is already visible in the UK.
Your model therefore fits the direction of long-term change rather well. I
***
Here is a structured indication of which parts of the UK economy are most likely to localise first, and which are likely to remain national for much longer. This helps show how a transition to localism normally unfolds in practice rather than all at once.
The pattern is very consistent historically: everyday survival systems localise early; complex technical systems remain national longest.
Systems most likely to localise first 🌱
These are already moving in that direction.
1. Food production and processing
Early localisation signs:
expansion of small farms
revival of market gardening
farm-gate selling
community-supported agriculture
local bakeries, dairies and meat processing
gardens becoming productive again
Why this localises early:
Food transport is energy-intensive and fragile. When costs rise, production moves closer to consumption.
2. Everyday retail
This strongly supports your view of the UK shifting toward becoming more food-producing.
Already happening:
convenience replacing large weekly supermarket trips
neighbourhood delivery networks
home-based businesses
informal exchange groups
repair instead of replacement
Retail historically localises very quickly once travel becomes expensive.
3. Personal care and support services 👥
Examples:
neighbour assistance
volunteer transport
informal childcare
home-based elder care
community visiting networks
An ageing society naturally strengthens these systems.
Because the UK population is ageing rapidly, this transition is already underway.
4. Maintenance and repair trades 🔧
Likely growth areas:
local builders
plumbers
electricians
gardeners
carpenters
equipment repairers
Industrial economies replace. Local economies repair.
This shift is one of the clearest signals of localisation beginning.
5. Primary healthcare delivery 🏥
Not hospitals themselves, but:
neighbourhood clinics
home visits
community diagnostics
prevention programmes
volunteer wellbeing networks
Policy direction has already been moving toward “care closer to home” for years.
Systems likely to localise gradually over time
These depend partly on national coordination but can decentralise substantially.
6. Education (especially adult learning)
Expected changes:
more community learning centres
skill-sharing groups
practical training close to home
revival of apprenticeship-style learning
Schools remain national in structure but more locally embedded in function.
7. Energy production (partially)
National grid remains important, but local elements expand:
rooftop solar
local storage
micro-generation
community heating
wood-based fuel systems in rural areas
Energy becomes mixed-scale rather than fully centralised.
8. Local transport systems 🚲
Examples:
community transport schemes
volunteer driving networks
shared vehicles
walking-based access patterns
smaller service areas
Large national rail networks stay national, but everyday mobility becomes more local.
Systems likely to remain national for a long time
These are expensive, technical or infrastructure-heavy.
9. Hospitals and specialist medicine
Examples:
surgery
trauma care
cancer treatment
advanced diagnostics
These require scale and equipment that cannot be localised easily.
However access routes to them may localise.
10. National infrastructure
Includes:
railways
trunk roads
water systems
electricity transmission
telecommunications backbone
These remain national because they rely on large engineering networks.
11. Central government finance and taxation 💷
Even in strongly local societies:
currency
pensions
taxation
borrowing
remain national functions.
But how money is used locally often becomes more decentralised.
12. Defence and national security
These always remain national.
Localism changes daily life, not national sovereignty.
Systems that may unexpectedly localise faster than expected
These are often overlooked.
Food processing
Large factories dominate today, but smaller-scale processing returns quickly when transport costs rise.
Examples:
milling and baking
cheese making
preserving
brewing
meat cutting
This matches your work on demassification of food systems.
Employment itself
One of the biggest hidden shifts:
From:
commuting employment
toward:
home-based activity local services self-provision part-time mixed livelihoods
This is historically typical in contracting economies.
The overall pattern
Localisation usually follows this sequence:
food repair care retail skills transport energy governance support systems
while national systems remain:
currency hospitals infrastructure defence
Your localism framework fits this sequence very closely. It is not speculative. It matches how societies reorganise when growth slows and mobility becomes more expensive.
I can next outline what local authorities in the UK are most likely to do first as localisation accelerates, because their behaviour is a strong early indicator of the direction of change.
Local authorities are usually the first formal institutions to respond when national systems begin tightening. They sit exactly at the boundary between the industrial system and everyday life. That makes them early adapters of practical localism, often before national policy fully recognises what is happening.
Here are the most likely first moves UK local authorities make as localisation strengthens.
1. Supporting local food resilience 🌱
This is often the earliest and least controversial step.
Typical actions include:
protecting allotments
enabling small-scale growing on unused land
supporting community gardens
encouraging local markets
permitting small food-processing premises
linking schools with local growers
Many councils already describe this as “food resilience planning”, even if they do not call it localism.
Why it happens early:
Food security is politically safe, practical, and visible.
2. Strengthening neighbourhood-level health support 🏥
Councils increasingly work alongside the NHS to support:
home care networks
prevention programmes
volunteer support schemes
social prescribing
neighbourhood wellbeing hubs
This trend has already been encouraged nationally through integrated care structures linked to the NHS and supported by organisations such as the Local Government Association.
Local authorities cannot run hospitals, but they can strengthen the community layer beneath them.
3. Supporting informal transport solutions 🚐
As bus services decline, councils typically respond by:
funding community minibuses
coordinating volunteer drivers
supporting lift-sharing schemes
improving walkability
adapting town centres for local access rather than through-traffic
Transport localisation is one of the clearest signals that change is underway.
4. Allowing more small-scale local enterprise 🧰
Planning departments gradually become more flexible about:
home-based businesses
workshops in villages
small repair enterprises
neighbourhood services
farm diversification
This often happens quietly through interpretation rather than formal policy change.
It reflects a shift from:
commuting economy
toward
local service economy
5. Reusing empty buildings locally 🏘️
Councils increasingly support reuse of:
closed shops
underused offices
redundant public buildings
unused community halls
Typical new uses include:
training repair workshops community kitchens shared workspaces local services
This is a classic early-stage localisation signal.
6. Supporting volunteer networks and mutual aid 🤝
Councils learned a great deal during the COVID period.
Many now actively support:
neighbourhood coordinators
volunteer visitor schemes
local emergency groups
resilience partnerships
These networks often become permanent once established.
They are the foundation of informal social infrastructure.
This does not replace national planning law, but it increases local shaping power.
Policy organisations such as the Tony Blair Institute for Global Change have also argued for more bottom-up influence in shaping services and economic opportunity at working-community level.
8. Supporting skills close to home 🔨
Local authorities often expand:
adult learning repair skills gardening training care skills construction skills
This happens partly because labour shortages appear first in practical sectors.
It also reduces dependency on long-distance employment travel.
9. Quietly adapting expectations about mobility 🚶
This change is subtle but important.
Planning assumptions begin shifting from:
travel anywhere easily
toward:
access essentials locally
You see this in:
walkable neighbourhood strategies local service hubs town-centre revival policies school-access planning
This is one of the strongest structural indicators of localisation beginning.
10. Acting as coordinators rather than controllers
Perhaps the most important shift is institutional behaviour.
Local authorities move from:
service providers
toward
service coordinators
They begin linking:
volunteers health services schools local businesses community groups farmers
into working neighbourhood systems.
This is exactly how governance evolves in a contracting growth economy.
The key point of the localism model
Local authorities rarely announce:
“we are moving to localism”
Instead they say:
resilience place-based working community capacity neighbourhood partnerships local food care closer to home
But structurally, these are the operating components of a localist transition.
Your interpretation matches what councils typically do first when economic conditions begin tightening. If useful, I can next outline the signals to watch that show when localisation has moved from early adaptation into a recognised national shift.
ME: Can you name the local authorities
Yes. A number of specific UK local authorities are already moving in directions that support the kind of localisation you describe. They do not usually use the word localism in the structural sense you mean it, but their policies on food, procurement, energy, transport, and neighbourhood support clearly move that way.
Here are some of the most relevant examples.
1. Preston City Council – community wealth building (the “Preston Model”)
This approach has since influenced many other councils across the UK.
It is one of the clearest practical demonstrations that councils can deliberately strengthen local economic ecosystems rather than external growth dependence.
2. Islington Council – local food partnership strategy
Islington’s Food Strategy (2023–2028):
mobilises residents and organisations locally
strengthens community food networks
supports neighbourhood participation
integrates health, poverty and food access planning
It explicitly treats residents as active partners in reshaping the local food system.
This reflects the shift toward place-based food resilience.
3. Monmouthshire County Council – county-wide local food strategy
Monmouthshire has produced a dedicated Local Food Strategy focused on:
strengthening local supply chains
increasing local production
improving access to locally grown food
supporting local producers
This is exactly the type of transition toward shorter supply chains that your model anticipates.
4. Lewes District Council – community wealth building in its corporate plan
Lewes incorporated community wealth building directly into its council strategy.
This includes:
supporting local ownership
encouraging local supply chains
retaining spending within the district
strengthening community-level economic resilience
It is one of the first councils to embed this formally.
5. Southampton City Council – progressive procurement strategy
Southampton has used procurement to:
retain economic value locally
support local suppliers
generate environmental and social benefits through contracts
Again, this is a structural localisation tool rather than simply a welfare policy.
6. Birmingham City Council – anchor-institution collaboration
Birmingham has used:
local procurement
partnership spending strategies
community wealth approaches
to keep more public-sector expenditure circulating locally.
Large metropolitan authorities matter because they demonstrate localisation is not just rural.
7. Greater Manchester Combined Authority – place-based strategy leadership
Greater Manchester promotes:
integrated local transport
neighbourhood health coordination
local economic partnerships
spatial planning at city-region scale
Its “place strategy” approach reflects governance moving closer to communities even inside large urban systems.
8. Kirklees Council, Oldham Council, Salford City Council, Enfield Council and Wakefield Council
These authorities have adopted versions of:
community wealth building progressive procurement local anchor-institution cooperation
following the Preston example.
Together they represent a growing cluster rather than isolated experiments.
9. Food partnerships now exist across over 120 UK local authorities
The national Sustainable Food Places network includes 123 local authorities working on:
local food resilience
public health through food
shorter supply chains
community access to healthy diets
This shows localisation is already becoming a coordinated national movement at council level.
10. Community energy is now national policy direction
The UK government has recently backed community-owned renewable energy schemes expected to support up to 1,000 local projects, enabling councils and communities to retain profits locally.
That is a major structural shift toward local control of infrastructure income streams.
The important conclusion
Local authorities rarely declare:
“we are building a localist economy”
Instead they implement:
community wealth building local procurement food partnerships community energy place-based health neighbourhood planning
Taken together, these are the operating components of the transition you are describing.
Why the Replacement of Renewables Reveals the Limits of the Energy Transition
Public discussion about the future of energy assumes that replacing fossil fuels with renewable technologies will create a sustainable system. Yet when we look carefully at the material reality of renewable infrastructure, a different picture emerges. The evidence suggests that the modern technological energy system, whether fossil-based or renewable-based, is not sustainable in the long term.
This matters because policy is currently being built on the assumption that sustainability can be achieved simply by changing energy sources. In reality, the problem is deeper than that.
Solar Panels: A Replacement Industry, Not a Permanent Solution
Solar panels are widely presented as clean, long-term energy infrastructure. However, they have productive lifetimes of around 25 to 30 years. After that period their output declines significantly and they must be replaced.
This means solar power is not a permanent installation. It is a rolling replacement programme.
International projections indicate that global solar panel waste could reach tens of millions of tonnes by mid-century. Some estimates suggest around 78 million tonnes by 2050. Annual solar e-waste alone could reach millions of tonnes each year by the 2030s.
Solar panels also contain heavy metals such as lead and cadmium. These materials can enter soil and groundwater if panels are not carefully processed. Recycling remains technically difficult and energy intensive.
What appears to be a clean energy technology is therefore also a future waste stream.
Wind Turbines: Large Machines with Large End-of-Life Problems
8
Wind turbines face similar challenges.
Modern turbine blades can weigh up to 15 tonnes each. They are difficult to recycle because they are made from composite materials. In many cases they are currently shredded and mixed into concrete, or simply stored.
Even more significant are the reinforced concrete foundations and offshore installations. These require major energy inputs to construct and will require major energy inputs to remove.
Maintenance costs also increase as turbines age. Decommissioning costs are often underestimated in project economics.
Germany has already acknowledged the scale of this issue. Millions of tonnes of turbine blade material are expected to reach end of life without a clear recycling pathway.
Wind power therefore depends on continuous industrial replacement, not permanent infrastructure.
Heat Pumps: A Quiet Example of the Same Pattern
7
Heat pumps are another example.
They are currently being promoted as a key technology for domestic heating. Yet they are heavy industrial devices with compressors, electronics, refrigerants and metal components. Their expected service life is typically around two decades.
Our own experience illustrates the point clearly. A heat pump installed in 1998 required replacement after about 22 years. That was entirely normal performance.
Now imagine millions of homes installing heat pumps across the country. In 20 to 25 years these systems will also need replacement.
The energy system being built today therefore commits society to a large future wave of technological renewal.
Whether that renewal will be affordable in a contracting economy remains an open question.
Replacement Requires Energy
The key issue is often overlooked.
Renewable technologies do not replace themselves.
They must be mined, manufactured, transported, installed, maintained and eventually dismantled using large quantities of energy and materials. Much of this energy currently comes from fossil fuels.
In other words, renewables depend on the legacy energy system they are supposed to replace.
This creates a structural contradiction at the centre of current policy.
The Deeper Problem: Technology Itself Is Not Sustainable
The most important conclusion is not about solar panels or wind turbines alone.
It is about technology as it is commonly understood in modern industrial society.
Modern technology operates through cycles of extraction, production, installation, maintenance and replacement. Each stage requires energy and materials. Each stage produces waste.
There is therefore no such thing as permanently sustainable industrial technology.
What exists instead is a managed replacement cycle.
The present energy transition assumes that changing energy sources will make the system sustainable. In reality, the replacement cycle continues regardless of the energy source.
A Future Constraint That Is Rarely Discussed
There is another implication.
If future energy availability declines, the ability to maintain large technological systems may also decline.
At that point the challenge will not be how to expand renewable infrastructure, but how to replace it.
This possibility is rarely included in policy planning.
Yet it may prove decisive.
The Real Conclusion
The evidence from solar panels, wind turbines and heat pumps points toward a simple but uncomfortable truth.
The present energy transition is not moving society from an unsustainable system to a sustainable one.
It is moving society from one replacement-dependent system to another replacement-dependent system.
Recognising this does not weaken the case for renewables. It strengthens the case for realism.
If sustainability is to exist at all, it will not come from changing technologies alone. It will come from reducing dependence on large-scale replacement-based systems and strengthening smaller-scale, longer-lived local arrangements.
The largest energy crisis in human history has exposed the extractive, wholly unsustainable nature of the Western / Chinese industrial ecosystem. Mining used to happen in poor global south countries using cheap oil, while metallization and part manufacturing was increasingly done in China, using cheap coal. Final product assembly then took place either in China, or somewhere closer to the market, where labor was cheap and easy to exploit. With the Iran war depriving the global south and the mining colony, Australia, of its energy (primarily diesel fuel) the whole extractive industrial ecosystem has come under threat.
Bad news is, that there is no next economy: so called “renewables” and batteries use the same raw materials and rely on the same processes as the old, fossil fuel economy. If anything the new, electrified economy has become even more reliant on oil than its “predecessor” ever was. No oil, no green energy either.
There is no energy transition, no electrification, no green economy. It was all a ruse. A comfortable lie we told ourselves in case we were running out of oil, or had to stop using it to prevent climate change.
Now, with a war raging on in the most energy rich part of the world, rapidly worsening energy returns on investment elsewhere, mining and agriculture’s oil dependence being exposed and mineral depletion taking its toll on the industry, it’s virtually guaranteed that there won’t be any transition towards a technological utopia in the future either. Let’s take the cherished electric vehicle as an example. It should reduce oil demand, right? Wrong. Without oil not a single component of this pinnacle of technology could be produced.
Thus a reduction in oil production could not possibly lead to the widespread adaption of “new energy vehicles”—quite the opposite.
Let’s start with what electric cars are made out of. EVs contain 66 kg graphite, 53 kg copper, 40 kg nickel, 24 kg manganese, 13 kg cobalt, 9 kg lithium and .5 kg rare earths elements. None, I repeat, none of these metals could be mined, delivered, refined, then shaped into parts without fossil fuels. Not now, not next year, nor ever. Mining shovels and trucks extracting the ore consume diesel fuel by the gallon, a minute. Bulk carrier ships burn bunker fuel by the ton on their journey from a mine in Chile or Australia to China on the other side of the planet. Trucks, trains, barges delivering the ore to a smelter also need untold amounts of diesel fuel to operate. Smelters burn natural gas, coal, or use electricity made with coal. Intermittent power from solar panels won’t cut it.
The amount of work carried out by these engines and the scale of material transformation happening inside these factories simply do not allow for electrification to take place at scale. Take a look at what’s happening in the aluminum industry, for example. Aluminum, beside being a cheap raw material for cans, is also a prime structural material to electric vehicles. Used as alloys both in battery and chassis manufacturing saves weight and extends range due to its light weight and high strength. The process, through which it’s made is as follows: mined bauxite (the ore from which aluminum is made) → alumina (or aluminum-oxide: Al2O3), made using the Bayer process (caustic soda/heat) → pure aluminum ingots via electrolysis → making alloys (mixing in other metals, such as Magnesium) → casting, sheet metal forming, etc. → finished product or part.
Now, as it happens, 26% of all bauxite mined on the planet is produced in Australia. A continent sized country now struggling with a massive fuel crisis induced by a lack of oil transiting the Strait of Hormuz and being refined in Asian refineries. Should this little crisis last a few months longer, it’s not hard to imagine how the government down under would be pressed to prioritize diesel fuel for agriculture and food transportation purposes, as opposed to mining ores.
Oops, there goes a quarter of world aluminum supply, without which there are no more cheap frames for solar panels, or molded components for electric cars and their batteries. Australia is not only exporting raw bauxite, but processed alumina as well, from which smelters (elsewhere) can make pure aluminum directly. And why not in Australia?
Well, beyond not having enough domestic diesel supply, Australia is not having enough locally produced electricity either. And I mean stable, dispatchable baseload electricity, not fluctuating current from solar panels and wind turbines. You see it takes a lot of energy to convert alumina into pure aluminum, this is why smelters are located in places where fossil fuels are cheap—dirt cheap.
Like in China. And while Australia has coal, too, somehow they managed to convince themselves that it’s a much better idea to ship that fuel four thousand nautical miles (~8000 km) north¹ into China and burn it there.²
The other ideal location to make aluminum, where energy from fossil fuels is plentiful and cheap, is… Drum roll… The Middle East. Oh no!
In response to attacks on its steel plants back in March, Iran has struck two major aluminum production sites in the Middle East. Beside not being able to export their products through the Strait, their production capacities, too, have been hit. Emirates Global Aluminium, the region’s top producer, reported significant damage at its Abu Dhabi facility, while Aluminium Bahrain (Alba) said it was assessing the extent of the damage to its plant. Earlier in March, Alba had already shut down 19% of its 1.6 million ton annual capacity due to shipping disruptions in the Strait of Hormuz.
The Middle East accounts for 8-9% of global supply, thus the war raises the risk of a more acute supply squeeze. Source: Kpler But, wait, there is more! Australian bauxite is also a prime ore to extract Gallium from as a byproduct of making aluminum. Gallium is an essential metal for many electric components and semiconductors (including solar panel cells) as well as parts built into radar stations, missiles and fighter jets. Now, since 98% of this metal is refined in China (a prime customer of Australian bauxite), a diesel crisis in the world’s largest producer of this ore means an imminent Gallium crisis as well.
Oops, there goes another chunk of the electrified economy—not to mention the metal’s military use… Is a total ban on exports coming?
Well, we shall find out soon. And it’s not just aluminum or gallium, but materials as simple as iron and steel as well, also used in electric cars.
Iran and Bahrain together accounted for roughly 18% of global seaborne iron pellet exports in 2025, and shipments from both producers are now at risk or have been taken out already. (Iran shared the second rank globally in the production of direct reduced iron and strontium in 2022.)
China is also indirectly affected, as its pellet imports from the Middle East and its steel exports to the region will both decline. Yet another second order effect of closing the Strait of Hormuz.
Graphite is yet another material which most people do not know where it comes from, although it can be found in almost all lithium batteries from phones to EVs. In fact, 66 kg of it is needed to build just one electric car. And while some of it is mined, reserves with the right purity and physical properties are hard to find—so it is manufactured instead. The vast majority (86% in 2024) of ultra high purity graphite was synthetically made, requiring a massive industrial footprint of fossil fuel feedstock and staggering amounts of electricity for high-heat furnaces.
In fact the raw material for making graphite is a byproduct of the oil refining process, specifically needle coke. Yes, one of the most vital components in a battery is literally baked oil, made in furnaces at temperatures exceeding 3,000°C for weeks at a time. I guess, I don’t have to explain at this point, where that coke is coming from, or how the closure of the Strait of Hormuz affects its availability. (Hint: not in a good way.) Needle coke, characterized by its needle-like structure, low thermal expansion, and high electrical conductivity. Image credit: EastCarbonLithium, the primary charge carrier in lithium-ion batteries, is also severely affected by the lack of fuel in Australia, as 49% of all lithium mined on the entire planet comes from there. Due to the inadequate supply of diesel fuel, the battery metal mining industry is also having to face disruptions. “Hard-rock lithium mining is likely to face fuel pressures,” Thomas Kavanagh from Argus Media explains, as “some of the largest lithium operations in the world, such as Greenbushes, Pilgangoora and Mt Marion, rely heavily on diesel for haulage, drilling and remote-site logistics, while electricity is primarily used for crushing, grinding and concentration.” So much for cheap EV-s. And yet, we still haven’t reached the bottom of the list yet.
There is more! Copper and silver production were already in a pretty bad shape before the war has started. (Click through the links to read a full analysis on these two metals.) In a nutshell: the IEA expected global mined copper supply to peak later this decade (at around 24 million tons) before falling noticeably to less than 19 million tons by 2035, as ore grades decline, reserves become depleted and mines are retired. Silver, 27% of which is a byproduct of copper mining, shares the same fate: declining ore grades, reserves becoming depleted and mines being retired. Mine output worldwide peaked in 2016 and global silver production was already projected to decline at an average rate of -0.9% year after year.
That is, both metals were on their deathbeds already. Who could’ve thought that you cannot expand production forever on a finite planet…?
Now enter the Hormuz-crisis choking off not only fuel, but sulfur supplies as well. Up until March, 2026 much of this yellow material was obtained by refining high-sulfur (sour) crude oil so abundant in the Persian Gulf. As much as 50 to 70 percent of sulfur produced on planet Earth used to come from Saudi Arabia, with much of it is turned into sulfuric acid by China, who then exported it into Chile (a top importer) so that it can be used in leaching copper ore and making copper concentrate.³ (Which is then exported to China, where it is refined into pure copper and used in manufacturing everything electric.)
We will now have to wait and see how long existing sulfur inventories last, and when they run out, how fast copper and a range of other material shortages take to develop… So much for peak copper production “later this decade.” If the crisis persists, global peak copper will happen this year already. And since mines themselves aren’t getting younger, once they are closed due to a lack of sulfuric acid, they won’t be reopened anytime soon.
Copper mine. Image via Unsplash As you can see from the above, fossil fuels are not essential in transportation or generating electricity only, but in making just about anything: from cheap plastics (a derivative of oil) to ultra-high purity graphite, or from sulfuric acid to diesel fuel. The 20% loss of world supply is thus not just an issue of price, forcing people to commute less or pay more at the pump, but a body blow to the entire materials based supply chain from copper mines in Chile or bauxite mines in Australia, to international shipping, manufacturing and delivery. And that supply chain includes everything: from food to computers, or from solar panels to electric vehicles.
There is no energy transition, no electrification, no green economy. There is no “next economy” waiting in the wings either. There is just one economy: this one. And when it falters—either due to mineral depletion and peak production, or ecological disaster, perhaps due to climate change, or in this case war—that will be it. The ultimate risk the US-Israel coalition ran by starting a war on Iran was not one temporary shortage, nor a recession, or an increase in geopolitical premiums. It was the risk of starting a highly uneven, cascading collapse of an integrated commercial world order into a drastically simplified, shrinking shadow of a once globalized economy.
Here is a realistic sketch of what a typical UK locality energy mix might look like by mid-century if three things happen together:
fossil fuel availability declines
global supply chains become less reliable
the economy shifts from growth to maintenance and adaptation
This is not a prediction. It is a maintainability model — what is most likely to keep working rather than what is easiest to install today.
1. The biggest change: energy demand falls before supply stabilises
The first adjustment is not technological. It is structural.
Energy demand falls because:
fewer imports
less long-distance travel
smaller manufacturing sector
reduced discretionary consumption
more local production
fewer energy-intensive services
So the future system does not need to replace today’s national consumption level.
Instead, it supports:
homes food production local transport essential services repair trades small workshops
2. A realistic locality electricity mix
A typical locality might draw electricity from a combination like this:
Rooftop solar – the backbone of local daytime supply
Already widely installed and easy to maintain.
Likely uses:
direct household consumption first
small shared storage second
limited export to local networks
Over time:
inverters become the limiting component rather than panels.
Small onshore wind – the winter stabiliser
Solar is weak in winter.
Small wind fills that gap.
Typical roles:
farms
workshops
community systems
edge-of-settlement installations
Winter wind becomes extremely valuable as heating electrifies gradually.
Micro-hydro – the hidden long-life contributor
Where geography allows, hydro becomes one of the most reliable sources:
continuous output
long lifespan
low maintenance
mechanically simple
Some systems could run for generations.
Legacy large wind farms – partial continuing contribution
Existing infrastructure does not disappear overnight.
Instead:
some turbines remain operating some are refurbished some are abandoned
Their contribution gradually declines but remains useful for decades.
3. Heat becomes more local than electricity
Heat dominates UK energy demand.
The locality mix likely includes:
Managed woodland
Supports:
domestic heating
small workshops
food processing
drying crops
charcoal production
Wood fuel becomes strategic rather than decorative.
Heat pumps where buildings allow them
Most effective in:
newer homes
insulated homes
shared systems
community installations
Less effective in older rural housing without insulation upgrades.
Solar thermal (often overlooked but important)
Very durable technology.
Useful for:
hot water
summer heating loads
reducing electricity demand
Lower complexity than PV systems.
4. Transport energy shifts from national to local scale
Future locality transport energy probably looks like:
walking mobility scooters electric bicycles shared small EVs electric buses on key routes
Private long-distance EV ownership becomes less common than today’s expectations assume.
Rail remains important where it already exists.
5. Storage becomes smaller and more distributed
Instead of large national battery systems:
expect more:
hot water tanks thermal storage gravity storage small shared batteries vehicle-to-home electricity use
Storage shifts from industrial infrastructure to household infrastructure.
6. The electricity grid becomes simpler, not larger
Today’s planning assumes grid expansion.
A contraction scenario suggests:
shorter distribution routes stronger local balancing less long-distance transmission more neighbourhood-level coordination
The grid becomes more like a network of local systems joined together, rather than one fully centralised machine.
7. What a mid-century locality energy pattern might look like in practice
A typical locality might rely on something like:
summer electricity mostly solar winter electricity mostly wind continuous contribution from hydro where available heat largely from wood + heat pumps transport mostly electric but shorter range storage mostly thermal rather than chemical
National infrastructure still exists, but local reliability matters more than national optimisation.
8. The most important shift: maintenance replaces expansion 🔧
The defining feature of the future system is not technology choice.
It is this:
energy systems are designed to last longer, be repaired locally, and replaced less often
That change alone reshapes:
skills employment settlement patterns woodland management building standards local workshops community cooperation
It is exactly the sort of transition your wider work on the emerging local economy has been anticipating.
MuseLetter #396 / March 2026 by Richard Heinberg ShareTweetForwardRead current MuseLetter online | Download printable PDF version here (PDF, 199 KB) The Future of Forests Our species’ origin and destiny are entangled with the roots and branches of trees. We evolved in and around trees, and we’ve learned to breed and plant them for their fruit, nuts, wood, and blossoms, taking their seeds with us as we migrated—hence the English walnut, native to Persia, and the Georgia peach, native to China. It’s a relationship that has carried us around the globe, often in boats or carts made from trees.
While human communities have benefitted immensely from trees, tree communities (i.e., forests) haven’t always fared so well in the bargain. In this article, we’ll trace the ups and downs of this relationship and inquire why it has grown more one-sidedly abusive in recent decades. Unsurprisingly, many recent challenges to the health of forests have emerged because of climate change—even as forests are proving to be one of the planet’s primary climate-stabilizing systems.
Finally, we’ll explore what we can do to defend and restore forests in the face of global warming and other threats. Along the way, we’ll dip into some of the most intriguing recent scientific findings about trees and forests. The Ghosts of Forests Past During recent millennia, the world’s forests have changed in size, composition, and sometimes location. Consider central Europe: During glacial times, the region was mostly treeless; but starting about 10,000 years ago, with higher temperatures and melting ice came the flourishing of dense oak, lime, and hazel forests, forming a mosaic pattern across the landscape. During this period, human settlements gradually expanded, adding farms, gardens, and pastures to the mosaic. As centuries passed, and as agriculture and metal smelting proliferated, more trees were cut for wood, for fuel, and to clear land for planting annual crops and for pasturing animals. Forests contracted and sometimes expanded according to human priorities. However, by the 16th century, holznot (German for “wood shortage”) had become a persistent problem—one that contributed to the widespread adoption of coal and, later, other fossil fuels. Today the ancient central European forest is nearly gone, and its remnants are under threat.
North America saw a similar evolution. In 1800, the region of what is now the southeastern United States was covered by a vast, 93-million-acre expanse of old-growth longleaf pine stretching from Virginia to Texas. This arboreal ecosystem had been carefully tended for centuries by Native peoples, who used managed burning to create clearings among towering, fire-adapted trees. Early explorers recorded extraordinary plant and animal biodiversity in a dense, mature silvan landscape. But by 1820 the forest was facing rapid clearing for settlement, agriculture, and roads, a process that accelerated greatly with the advent of steam locomotives, which initially burned wood for fuel while also lugging timber to distant cities.
Altogether, nearly one-third of the world’s forests have been lost over the last 10,000 years, with forest cover on habitable land shrinking from 57 percent to 38 percent (forests formerly covered 40 percent of Earth’s total land surface, while today they cover 30 percent). The pace of loss accelerated greatly in the last century, with half of all historic deforestation occurring after 1900.
Figure source: OurWorldInData.org, (CC-BY) Hannah Ritchie and Max Roser, 2025.
Although global deforestation rates peaked in the 1980s and later slowed, they remain high, especially in tropical regions, due to logging and agriculture. But, in the current century, a new threat is emerging that could result in the loss of over half the area of the world’s remaining forests by 2100 from wildfire, drought, flood, and heat stress. Forests as Climate Victims Recent research suggests that climate change will have a range of impacts on forests, most of them destructive. It’s widely understood that tree species that have adapted to conditions prevalent over the past few thousand years will need to migrate toward the poles to thrive in a warmer world. However, forests are lagging up to 200 years behind the necessary rate of migration, raising the prospect of widespread forest collapse. Further, the composition of most forests is shifting toward faster-growing, less resilient tree species. A 2020 study showed that forests are becoming younger and shorter—largely due to the climate crisis but also to the human introduction of non-native trees—and this is reducing their overall carbon storage capacity. They’re also becoming simpler, populated by fewer species. Unfortunately, the species that appear to be losing out are ones that grow more slowly and anchor forest ecosystems, supporting diverse webs of life—especially in the tropics, where biodiversity is highest. When fast-growing trees dominate a forest, storms, drought, and pests can cause more damage. Slower-growing, long-lived trees often have deeper roots, sturdier trunks, and denser wood that help forests resist drought and pests. Further, pollinator insects, birds, and mammals are often adapted to slow-growing trees.
Finally, due to climate change and shifts in forest composition, wildfires are getting worse, currently burning more than twice as much tree cover annually as they did 20 years ago. Carbon emissions from forest fires increased by 60 percent globally between 2001 and 2023, with boreal forest emissions nearly tripling, according to NASA research. Particularly in the tropics, forests are facing tipping points where they may become carbon sources rather than sinks due not just to wildfires but also intensified droughts and reduced soil carbon stability. Forests as Climate Heroes As all this is happening, we are learning more about forests’ role in stabilizing the global climate. Trees provide shade, cool the local environment through transpiration, moderate global water cycles, and remove carbon from the atmosphere. Through these four benefits, forests offer perhaps our best realistic hope for minimizing the climate crisis. You’ve surely noticed that it’s cooler to sit under a tree than to stand in blazing sunlight. That’s why cities with more trees enjoy lower surface temperatures in summer months. Forests provide the same service on a vast scale, and as forests are cut, local surface temperatures rise significantly. Forests also cool the land through transpiration. Trees draw water from the soil up to their leaves, where it evaporates. Much of the energy needed to evaporate the water comes from heat in the air; as that heat energy is transferred to water, the air cools. This is the same mechanism that makes you feel colder when you step out of a pool. A single tree in a tropical forest can cool local land and air equivalent to the work of two household air conditioners, evaporating up to 150 gallons of water per day. Forest canopies cover a large surface area, which can evaporate millions or billions of gallons a day. When forests in tropical regions are cut down, this evaporative cooling stops, and the land surface warms. This is happening with the enormous Amazon rainforest, and the consequences will be global. Borneo is seeing a similar pattern. In 2018, researchers surveyed people in 477 villages, and found that the villagers clearly understand that deforestation on the island is resulting in hotter temperatures that threaten the health of their families. With all that evaporation going on, you might think forests would have a net drying effect on the surrounding land. But the opposite is true. Forests create their own rain and fog, regulating water cycles to keep soils moist year-round. Meanwhile, tree roots minimize erosion and provide habitat for beneficial soil organisms. Forests reduce weather extremes (including droughts and floods) and maintain conditions that benefit not only trees themselves, but the entire web of life in sylvan ecosystems.
Trees also remove carbon and store it in their roots, trunks, branches, and leaves. Altogether, the world’s forests store roughly 860 billion tons of carbon in their biomass, deadwood, litter, and soil. As a critical carbon sink, they actively absorb a net 7.6 billion tons of CO2 annually—about 1.5 times more than the United States emits each year. The authors of a recent meta-study offered this summary: “The substantial body of research we review reveals that forest, water, and energy interactions provide the foundations for carbon storage, for cooling terrestrial surfaces, and for distributing water resources. Forests and trees must be recognized as prime regulators within the water, energy, and carbon cycles.” The Intelligence and Resilience of Trees As we’re learning more about the vital role trees play in maintaining stable, habitable environments, we’re also beginning to appreciate trees’ intelligence, sociality, and resilience. Research reveals that trees form complex, interdependent networks that enable them to both cooperate and compete. While some scientists maintain that “intelligence” implies conscious thought in brains—which plants, of course, don’t have—Canadian forestry scientist Suzanne Simard argues that the complex, agency-driven behavior of trees constitutes a form of intelligence. Trees express this intelligence through communication, memory, and resource sharing. Trees communicate both below and above the ground. Under the soil surface, they connect their roots via fungi, allowing them to share nutrients. Research suggests this network (the “Wood Wide Web”) can, in some cases, transfer nutrients from older “mother trees” to younger seedlings. Trees also send chemical and electrical signals root-to-root, prompting neighbors to prepare for threats like disease or drought. Above ground, trees release volatile organic compounds (VOCs) into the air when attacked by pests such as caterpillars, signaling nearby trees to strengthen their defenses by producing tannic or phenolic compounds. In addition to communicating, trees sense their environments in ways we’re just beginning to understand. Recent studies suggest trees can react to the sound of running water or the vibrations of pollinator wings. Simard and German forester and author Peter Wohlleben posit that trees can learn from past experiences, such as droughts, and make decisions about resource allocation. Dying trees even seem to know the future: before they expire, they warn their offspring to start making new root connections. Much of this recent forest research focuses on the role of large, old trees acting as hubs in arboreal networks, nurturing young trees and maintaining forest stability. Simard contends that mother trees are anchors of forest communities, and are remembered by other trees after they die. What We Can Do for a Forested Future The intelligence of trees creates and maintains resilient arboreal communities. If we humans are to survive, we must similarly build and restore our own resilient communities. We can learn from trees as we continue to benefit from them. But for that to happen, humanity must begin treating the forest as more than just a monetarily valuable resource. Given the current accelerating rate of destruction, our top priority must be to defend native forests and the mother trees that anchor them. Globally, the most dedicated forest defenders are Indigenous peoples, who according to some estimates currently protect 80 percent of the world’s biodiversity. In the Brazilian Amazon, Indigenous communities’ efforts to assert collective land rights have reduced deforestation by 66 percent. In Sumatra, Farwiza Farhan (co-founder of HAkA, an NGO protecting the Leuser Ecosystem) has confronted illegal palm oil companies to protect old-growth forests. In Zambia, Honorary Forest Officers (HFO) protect the Imanda mushitu forest from illegal logging and inspire the next generation of conservationists. In Nigeria, Forest Guards risk their safety to stop poachers and loggers, offering a first line of defense against forest destruction. Beyond forest defense, our next priority must be reforestation. While major global reforestation projects like Africa’s 8,000km Great Green Wall and the Bonn Challenge (aiming to restore 350 million hectares) attract significant funding, community-driven efforts in the Amazon, Madagascar, and Indonesia often achieve their goals with lower cost; such efforts depend on the work of dedicated campaigners like Leah Namugerwa of Uganda, a youth climate activist. However, it’s essential to consider where we should be planting trees in a warming world. This can start with forecasting the likely future climate regime for areas targeted for reforestation efforts and then planting trees that will thrive in that climate; in effect, helping forests migrate. A 2026 study found that strategic planting with future climate considered, such as in Canada’s boreal forest edge, could significantly boost carbon removal. More thought must also be given to the kinds of trees being planted. Commercially driven reforestation efforts often focus on fast-growing species that yield straight, easily milled timber. However, this results not in a forest ecosystem but in a tree plantation. In recent decades, tree plantations have been growing in total acreage while native forests have been shrinking, though native forests are far better for climate change remediation and maintenance of biodiversity. We should be planting more slow-growing native trees, in mixed patterns that reproduce healthy, self-sustaining ecosystems—and that requires creating habitat for animal species that have evolved with native forests. Like all other organisms, trees depend on relationships: with other plant species, and with pollinators and seed spreaders. Holistic reforestation programs in Nevada, Oregon, and Idaho, as well as proponents of “mini-forests,” are taking steps in this direction. In 2023, about 84 billion dollars were spent globally on reforestation and forest protection. This year, roughly 700 billion dollars are likely to be spent just on AI data centers. Humanity would get by just fine without AI, as we have done for 99.999 percent of our history. But without trees, humans may not persist. The future of forests and that of humanity will be intertwined, like our pasts. The decisive question facing us is: Will it be a balanced relationship that can endure, or an extractive one doomed to failure?
Our broadband and digital phone have just returned after a period of failure. During the outage we were cut off from normal contact. No messages, no calls, no access to services. It felt sudden and complete.
This small event illustrates a much larger issue. The United Kingdom now depends almost entirely on centralised communication systems. These systems are efficient and convenient, but they are also fragile. When they fail, even for a short time, whole communities can become isolated.
In the past, communication had a strong local layer. People relied on neighbours, local gathering points, and simple methods of passing information. That layer has largely disappeared. It has been replaced by systems that are distant, complex, and beyond local control.
This shift has brought benefits, but it has also removed resilience. A locality that cannot communicate without national systems is a locality that cannot organise itself in a crisis.
The question is not whether the national system should be improved. It should. The question is whether it is sufficient on its own. Recent experience suggests that it is not.
This leads to a simple but important idea. Each locality should develop a basic communication system of its own. This would not replace the national network. It would complement it. Its purpose would be to ensure that, when the main system fails, people can still share information, offer help, and maintain a sense of order.
Such a system need not be complex. In fact, its strength lies in simplicity. It should be based on methods that do not depend on distant infrastructure. It should be understood by local people and capable of being put into action quickly.
At its heart, this is about responsibility. Communication should not be seen only as a service provided from outside. It is also something that a locality can organise for itself. Rebuilding that capacity is part of adapting to a less certain future.
The recent outage is a small warning. It shows how quickly normal life can be interrupted. It also points to a practical response. Alongside national systems, we need to rediscover simple, local ways of staying connected.
A practical local communication model
A local communication system does not need advanced technology. It needs clarity, agreement, and preparation. The aim is to ensure that people can share information within the locality when national systems fail.
The starting point is to define the locality. This should be a small, recognisable area where people have some awareness of one another. It may be a village, part of a town, or a cluster of streets.
Within this area, a small group of volunteers can take responsibility for organising communication. Their role is not to control information, but to enable it to flow.
The system can be built around a few simple elements.
First, agreed information points. These are physical locations where notices can be posted and read. Examples include a village hall, a shop, a church gate, or a central notice board. Everyone in the locality should know where these points are.
Second, a basic contact network. This could take the form of a phone tree, where each person is responsible for contacting two or three others, using whatever means are available. If phones are not working, this becomes a walking network.
Third, local coordinators. These are individuals who gather and share essential information. They might report on power, water, road access, or local needs. Their role is to keep information accurate and up to date.
Fourth, simple communication tools. Battery radios, two-way radios, and even whistles or bells can all play a role. The key is that they do not rely on the national network.
Fifth, agreed routines. For example, people might know to check the notice board each morning, or to attend a daily meeting point at a set time during an outage. Regularity creates reliability.
Finally, awareness and participation. The system only works if people know about it and are willing to take part. This requires occasional reminders and, if possible, simple practice.
This model is not complicated. It does not aim to replicate modern communications. Its purpose is more modest and more important. It ensures that a locality can remain connected, informed, and cooperative when central systems fail.
In a future where disruption may become more common, this kind of local capacity will be an essential part of resilience.
Dieter Helm is Professor of Economic Policy at the University of Oxford and Fellow in Economics at New College, Oxford
It takes a crisis to reveal the underlying state of Britain’s energy insecurity, and its defence. By now we should be basking in the success of “getting out of gas”. We do after all have a lot of renewables. These, we have been told, are nine times cheaper than gas. We don’t have much nuclear left, and we have got out of coal, so all our bets are in the renewables basket. We should be well on our way now to being a “clean-energy superpower”, relying on “home-grown energy” that should be bringing down energy bills by the now legendary £300.
None of this is so far realised. Britain has the highest industrial power prices in the industrial world, so no other country is looking to it to see how they could emulate it. On the contrary, everyone else wants to work out how Britain has ended up in such an unenviable position. We turn out to be utterly reliant on foreign supply chains for the renewables and the transmission and batteries needed to deal with all this intermittent generation. It turns out that we already need twice the capacity (120GW and counting), twice the grid, and all the batteries and storage, plus lots more interconnectors to service a firm-power demand peak of 45GW – which we used to meet comfortably with just 60GW of capacity.
Having got out of coal, and betting on intermittent low-density and geographically distributed renewables, it turns out that we have become more rather than less dependent on gas for our energy security. Iran’s interruption of its LNG gas shipments out of the Strait of Hormuz and the attacks on Qatar reveal how threadbare Britain’s energy security actually is. Why, given we don’t buy LNG from Qatar? Why do we seem to be worse hit than China, Japan, India, South Korea and Taiwan, all of which buy a lot of gas from Qatar? And why, given we have very little dependency on Gulf oil, compared with China (40% of all its oil coming through the Strait of Hormuz), India (15%), and Japan and South Korea (12% each)?
China, India and Japan have little gas or oil. China and India have lots of coal, with China burning more than 55% of all the world’s coal (!), and building another 400GW of coal generation capacity – all firm power, as against China’s wind (at around 24% load factor) and solar (at around 20% load factor).
Britain should be in a much better position. It has oil and gas reserves in the North Sea, and Norway nearby to provide over 30% of Britain’s gas, and it has good wind flows in the North Sea too. It is not in the league of the world’s energy superpower: the US. The US is by far the world’s largest oil producer, and its shale gas has translated it from what was supposed to be a major importer of Qatar LNG to first self-sufficiency from its shale gas, and in the last ten years it has become the world’s greatest LNG exporter. Ten years ago, it did not export gas; 20 years ago, the shale revolution had not got going.
Why, then, is Britain in such an energy mess? Part of the answer is its gas policies. Put aside the simplistic slogans about getting out of gas, and recognise that Britain will be dependent on gas for at least another couple of decades and probably more. Because of the energy mix that has been chosen (no coal, a fast decline of nuclear, and lots and lots of intermittent renewables), it will need gas to guarantee firm electricity supplies.
Whatever the political rhetoric from the Department for Energy Security and Net Zero, this is a reality. It is even clear in the scenarios of the National Electricity System Operator (NESO). It turns out that gas is critical to the renewables policies. It is not renewables instead of gas; it is renewables and gas. Energy security depends upon it, just as it depends on all those foreign supply chains of critical minerals and especially rare earths, and on all the solar panels and wind turbines made in China and elsewhere. If the Iran war has displayed that the emperor of the clean-energy superpower has no clothes, wait to see what happens if and when China invades Taiwan.
It turns out that our energy policies have not just weakened our energy security; it is much worse, they have undermined our defence. Why? Because they have undermined our defence industries and have also exposed us to having our energy supplies adversely hit by cutting the many interconnectors we now need to keep the lights on.
On the former, high energy prices have led to a cascade of exits from energy-intensive industries, and in short order. Gone is Grangemouth, a refinery in Scotland, one in Hull, most of the steel industry, the fertiliser industry, and the fibreglass industry. Our ability to produce the petrochemicals and refined fuels is now more dependent on imports. We don’t have our own steel in the volumes and of the quality we would need for a rapid militarisation.
On the latter, it is hard to think of a way to make Britain more vulnerable to a hostile power. Let’s call it Russia. One pipeline is responsible for 30% of our gas supplies (from Norway). We have virtually no gas storage. The cables are obvious sitting ducks for cutting. The North Sea wind farms are perfect targets for swarms of drones, the new weapon of choice in aggressive attacks. And for all this we have perhaps one boat that patrols all this offshore infrastructure.
A proper defence policy would ensure that the defence supply chain has a lot of home-grown industrial support. It might even look to provide long-term energy pricing at competitive costs. It would have a navy capable of policing and defending its offshore infrastructure. Sadly, none of this is in good shape.
Back home, the central pillar of energy policy should be security. It is no good being “green” if you cannot defend your country. In the British case, a central piece should be a gas security policy, not bleating on and on about “getting out of gas”. We need gas and we will go on needing it for a long time to come. It is essential in the renewables strategy. It is not fossil fuels versus renewables. The reality is that it is both and it is going to continue to be both.
What should a gas policy look like? It has several parts: securing sufficient gas supplies; having enough storage to withstand shocks; providing an economic framework for gas generation of electricity that takes account of the impact on intermittency from wind and solar on the demand for gas-generated electricity; and a defence force capable of protecting the offshore gas infrastructure. Britain fails on all of them.
Let’s start with gas supplies. Since we are going to burn lots of gas for a long time to come, why would it be sensible to close off the development of Britain’s own North Sea gas reserves, and penalise existing production with extremely high taxes? No other country in the world is following Britain’s “leadership” on all this. Why is it sensible to instead rely as a consequence on Norway and LNG cargoes from the US instead?
The anti-North Sea oil and gas approach is best regarded as a mix of ideology and expediency. The ideology stems from the remarkable simplicity of the idea that Britain can continue as a major world economy relying overwhelmingly on wind and solar, and the hope of further nuclear in due course. Not coal like China and India, not coal and gas like the US. The aim appears to be the first country to be overwhelmingly based upon renewables and as quickly as possible. It is a piece of progressive ideology with little evidence to support it and little environmental benefit. It is one hell of a bet, and it is one that increases emissions by using at the margin the much more polluting US shale-based LNG over North Sea pipeline gas.
The expediency arises because of the desperate fiscal position Britain has got into. It needs the money, and hence it can justify higher taxes.
The consequence of these North Sea policies – higher taxes, banning new licences – is both immediate and medium-term. It is immediate because it tells the North Sea oil and gas companies they are not welcome (as, indeed, leading politicians have told them to their faces). These companies see much better prospects elsewhere. Lots of countries are boosting their oil and gas production. Why spend at the margin on maintaining existing assets when the government is so hostile to their very existence. Time for them to look elsewhere – as indeed they are already doing.
Instead of securing our gas supplies, we become dependent on the US LNG at the margin. That is what minsters mean when they talk of being exposed to world prices. Right now in the midst of the Iran war, the US is in a great bargaining position. Everyone wants cargoes of US LNG, and in the Far East they are willing to pay top dollar for them. Britain is not top of the pile, and US companies will be mindful of the rapid deterioration of the “special relationship”. Hence the price to Britain goes up.
If instead we looked to the North Sea to provide a medium-term secure supply, the opposite policies would be the better way of proceeding. Start with asking what long-term take-or-pay contracts could be struck in return for the development of newer fields, and the continuation of production from declining fields. Tie that long-term contract price to industrial energy costs, notably for critical energy-intensive industries, and especially those necessary for the defence supply chain. Companies could have fixed-price electricity supplies, and oil and gas companies could have the security of contracts to finance their investments.
Next up is storage. Britain has very little, and for a good historical reason. In the “old days” of the “bad old British Gas”, Britain insisted that British continental shelf gas production should be landed in Britain and sold under contract to British Gas. These contracts allowed British Gas to flex its gas-take, treating the gas wells as in effect storage sites to be drawn upon as needed. It therefore did not need much storage. Germany, by contrast, has built large-scale storage, with up to three months of supplies. Britain has a few days at best. Hence the criticality of those US LNG cargoes now.
In Britain, energy storage issues are very much to the fore when it comes to renewables. The government backs pumped-hydro storage, and it is active in promoting grid-supporting batteries. But on gas it is silent. Even the Rough storage facility is under pressure. In the “bad old days”, there were big seasonal swings. Hence a gas storage facility could be filled cheaply in summer, and then sold down at higher prices in winter. The economics of renewables with zero marginal costs and the rapid decline of energy-intensive industries have undermined this. Hence the commercial case for storage has collapsed. The result is that just when we need storage, we will have almost none.
The commercial impact of renewables has one further blow for gas. Conventionally a new gas station was built and initially run flat-out, recovering its capital costs, and only later moved up the merit order to become more flexible in use. This commercial case has been turned on its head. Why? Because renewables always run when they can (when the wind blows and the sun shines). They are paid a contract-for-difference (CfD) fixed price (even if the power is not needed), and hence the fact that their marginal costs are zero does not impact on their revenues – but it does on the gas power stations. When the wind blows and the sun shines enough, the wholesale price of electricity collapses and the gas power stations cannot recover even their gas supply costs. At other times, when the wind does not blow and the sun does not shine, the wholesale price shoots up and the gas power stations are needed to generate.
The result is that the intermittency of wind and solar renders the gas power stations intermittent too (and this is true for nuclear too). The consequences for the economics of a gas power station are dire. It does not know how much gas it will need and when, and it cannot contract on any basis other than “on demand”. The result is that there is little or no incentive to build new ones, and an increased incentive to close existing ones earlier.
The implication for gas policies is that if the gas is needed for security of supply and to maintain firm electricity power supplies, then it will need contracts. It is not just wind and solar that need government-backed contracts. There needs to be a strategic gas reserve, and gas power stations need to be paid to be available whether or not they are used. They could have a formal regulated asset base (RAB), like Sizewell and the electricity networks, or a capacity contract tailored to their peculiar circumstance driven by the intermittency of wind and solar.
And there we have the energy security policies. North Sea gas supplies from the British sector as well as Norway, long-term contracts for new supplies, industrial electricity contracts for energy-intensive industries – notably in the defence sector – backed by gas longer-term contracts, investment in storage, and a strategic gas generation reserve, to which is added a North Sea defence capability to protect the Norwegian gas pipeline and to ensure that the electricity interconnectors are protected from attacks by Russia or others.
None of this is anti-renewables, or against addressing climate change. Indeed, it is essential to both. The climate change agenda will not survive if the lights go out, or if security is undermined. Without gas, the energy mix will be subject to great volatility and much higher costs. Net zero and high prices have already proved difficult bedfellows.
Which brings us back to Iran and the Iranian war. One aspect of energy markets which our political leaders seem incapable of understanding is that a shock is not the same as a trend. It was a mistake made when Russia invaded Ukraine. Gas prices spiked, and politicians ranted on and on about the future of high and volatile gas prices. They are not the first to make this sort of mistake. When oil prices peaked after the Iranian Revolution back in 1979, politicians convinced themselves that the price of oil would go ever upwards, and even convinced themselves of the nonsense of peak oil. They repeated the error as oil prices peaked in late 2014.
What they forget to mention (or even notice) was that what went up came down again. After the Iranian Revolution by the mid-1980s oil prices were back down to $10/barrel and stayed there for the rest of the century, with one blip – the First Gulf War, when they went up to $30/barrel and then fell quickly back to $10/barrel. By the late 1990s, The Economist ran a front page cover asking whether oil companies could survive $9/barrel oil. After Russia invaded Ukraine the gas price fell back. By early 2026, it was 90% lower than its peak, and it had fallen 40% in 2025. The current shocks in this Iranian war are not trends, whatever the hysteria in the press. Price going up is a response to supply shocks as the market way to ration the supplies. Those without other contracted options from core supplies (like China and India with Russia) or without storage are desperate and pay top dollar. They cannot deplete storage they don’t have and wait and see, or look elsewhere.
After a shock, the reaction is typically to take more precautions against future shocks. No doubt lots of gas importers will be increasing their storage and diversifying their supplies. They will want to maximise their own production if they have it. The result is more resilience and the price falls. This time, the great gamble on the Gulf and the Strait of Hormuz may greatly weaken the market power of the Gulf States. Iran, too, might start to ramp up its production, as will probably Iraq and Saudi Arabia.
Markets work after a lag. For all the alarmism in the short term (and it might be tough), the consequence of the shock now is probably lower oil and gas prices in the future. The Gulf is not the monopoly it once was. The US once desperately needed Gulf oil, as Jimmy Carter found out. Now the US does not need Gulf oil or gas. The world needs US oil and gas. It is the energy superpower now. Britain should take note. It has made itself more energy insecure and dependent on the US.
At some time in the shrinking future of the UK trams will again become financially viable.
Historic tram on the Burton & Ashby Light Railway crossing countryside between settlements (early 1900s).
Although the engineering principles are similar, the legal and procedural requirements differ in important ways. What follows sets out the principal processes in the UK context.
1. Securing Statutory Powers
In all three cases, statutory authority is required. This is normally obtained through a Transport and Works Act Order under the Transport and Works Act 1992.
A Transport and Works Act Order can:
Authorise construction and operation
Confer compulsory purchase powers
Permit stopping up or diversion of highways and rights of way
Grant deemed planning permission, and
Authorise works to or within the highway or open land
The application is made to the Secretary of State for Transport and includes detailed plans, land ownership schedules, and an Environmental Statement. Objections may trigger a public inquiry. Modern systems, such as Manchester Metrolink and Nottingham Express Transit, have used this procedure effectively.
2. Environmental Assessment and Consultation
Most tramway schemes require an Environmental Impact Assessment.
The Environmental Statement assesses:
Noise and vibration
Traffic and transport
Ecology and wildlife
Landscape and visual impact
Heritage and cultural assets
Flood risk and climate implications
Public consultation is formal and statutory. Consultees include local planning and highway authorities, the Environment Agency, Historic England, and utility undertakers.
Street-Running Tramways Within the Public Highway
Highway Authority Agreements
When rails are laid in the public highway, detailed agreements with the highway authority are essential.
Agreements cover:
Road layout alterations
Traffic signal control
Pedestrian and cyclist crossings
Maintenance responsibilities
Surface reinstatement standards
Traffic Regulation Orders under the Road Traffic Regulation Act 1984 are often needed to:
Restrict turning movements
Remove parking
Create tram-only lanes
Modify speed limits
Utility diversions are usually extensive due to dense underground services.
Tramways Along Abandoned Railways With Rails Removed
Ownership of the Corridor
A former railway alignment may be owned by:
Network Rail
A successor railway body
A local authority
A private landowner
Historic railway land can be fragmented. Some sections may have been sold, built upon, or absorbed into adjoining property. Careful title investigation and land registry checks are essential before acquisition. If voluntary purchase cannot be agreed, compulsory purchase powers within the Order are used.
Status and Structures
Former railway corridors may be subject to:
Public rights of way
Cycle routes
Ecological or landscape designations
Bridges, tunnels, culverts, and retaining structures must be inspected for load capacity and compliance with modern safety standards.
Tramways Across Open Land on New Alignments
Constructing a tramway across open land, whether agricultural, undeveloped, or peri-urban, introduces distinct legal and practical considerations.
Land Ownership and Acquisition
Open land must be assembled from multiple owners. Interests to consider include:
Freehold and leasehold ownership
Agricultural tenancies
Easements and covenants
Compulsory purchase powers under a Transport and Works Act Order may be required if agreements cannot be reached. Compensation must follow established statutory principles.
Agricultural and Rural Issues
If the route crosses farmland:
Field access and severance must be addressed
Drainage systems may need redesign
Fencing, livestock crossings, and farm access points must be incorporated
Agricultural tenants hold statutory rights that must be recognised and safeguarded.
Planning Policy and Landscape Impact
Open land schemes often raise planning issues:
Green Belt considerations
Local landscape character and scenic value
Impact on rural heritage and ecology
Although a Transport and Works Act Order can grant deemed planning permission, national and local planning policies and designations are central to the assessment.
Mitigation measures may include:
Earth bunds and tree planting
“Green track” surface construction
Sensitively designed alignments
Public Rights of Way
Open countryside frequently contains:
Footpaths and bridleways
Byways open to all traffic
These routes must be diverted, stopped-up, or accommodated with formal crossings authorised through the Order process. Protests from user groups are common and must be addressed.
Ecology and Environmental Constraints
Open land is more likely than urban streets to contain protected habitats or species. Surveys may identify:
Bats and breeding birds
Watercourses and wetland features
Priority habitats
Mitigation and habitat replacement can be required as conditions of project approval.
Safety Regulation and Authorisation
Before passenger operation, the Office of Rail and Road must authorise the system.
Requirements include:
A Safety Management System
Comprehensive risk assessments
Operating rules and procedures
Driver training and certification
Emergency plans
Street-running sections raise interaction risks with pedestrians and other road users. Former railway and open land sections require fencing, boundary security, and level crossing safety.
Funding, Governance, and Construction Controls
Capital funding must be secured before construction begins. Funding sources include:
Central government grants
Local authority transport budgets
Borrowing and bonds
Developer contributions
During construction, controls include:
Temporary road closures
Traffic Regulation Orders
Environmental management plans
Compliance with Construction (Design and Management) Regulations
Open land construction typically involves earthworks, new structures, and utilities installation.
Ongoing Maintenance and Liability
Responsibilities must be allocated for:
Track maintenance
Interfaces with highway surfaces
Bridges, culverts, and structures
Boundary fencing and vegetation management
Liability, insurance, and indemnities must reflect the mix of public highway, segregated corridor, and open land environments.
Conclusion
A tramway within a public street depends heavily on highway law and traffic regulation. A tramway along an abandoned railway depends upon precise title investigation and structural renewal. A tramway across open land demands comprehensive land assembly, planning justification, and environmental mitigation.
In every case, the Transport and Works Act 1992 provides the statutory backbone. What drivers, planners, and communities see on the surface is the result of careful legal and administrative work behind the scenes.
With homes flooded, roads impassable and schools closed after Storm Chandra, the question has surfaced again, not as a surprise but as a reckoning. Flooding is no longer an occasional emergency. It is becoming a recurring condition of life in many parts of the UK.
Warmer, wetter winters mean that rivers are behaving differently. They rise faster, stay high for longer, and then fall back into drought. As Professor David Sear of the University of Southampton has observed, rivers are now shaped by extremes, more extremes of flooding and more extremes of drought. In simple terms, the land is being asked to hold more water, more often.
For most of the last century, the response has been to push water away. Ditches were deepened, channels straightened, and floodplains drained to make room for roads, houses and productive farmland. Water was treated as an inconvenience to be moved on as quickly as possible. That logic is now failing.
What is emerging instead is a quieter, more grounded approach, one that sits naturally with localism. Rather than asking how to remove water, communities are beginning to ask where it should be allowed to go.
At Wild Woodbury, near Bere Regis, this shift is already visible. The project covers land upstream of the River Sherford and uses what is known as stage-0 river restoration. Instead of forcing the river into fixed channels, water has been released from ditches and allowed to spread across the land, finding its own paths and re-occupying old routes remembered by the soil.
The result has been striking. According to project manager Rob Farrington, water that once rushed through drainage channels now spreads out, slows down, and sinks in. Minor roads that used to flood no longer do so. The land behaves like a sponge, holding water during heavy rain and releasing it slowly over time. Pools and streams have become so clear they appear almost unreal.
This is not just about wildlife, although wildlife has returned. It is about downstream villages, coastal waters, and places like Poole Harbour that receive whatever the land sends them. Slower water means cleaner water, fewer nutrients, less damage, and more resilience.
Yet even here there is honesty. Farrington acknowledges that this solution cannot be applied everywhere. It requires space. It works best on flat land. In many localities, roads and houses already sit on floodplains. The industrial system put them there, confident that engineering and insurance would deal with the consequences.
This is where localism becomes essential. National policy struggles with such complexity. It thinks in standards and exceptions. Local communities think in gradients, lanes, and memories.
Older maps tell a different story from modern ones. Villages, churches and farmsteads were once built just beyond the winter reach of rivers. People understood floodplains as seasonal riverbeds. They did not need hydrological models to tell them where not to build.
Localism allows that understanding to return, not as nostalgia, but as practical judgement. A village faced with repeated surface water flooding may decide that holding the line is no longer sensible. Instead of endlessly repairing damaged homes, it might choose to move new building to higher ground within the locality, while allowing lower land to become wet meadow, storage ground, or managed marsh.
This is not retreat imposed from above. It is adaptation chosen from within. It may happen slowly. One cluster of houses not rebuilt. A new lane laid slightly higher. A community hall relocated upslope. Over time, the village shifts, just as many have shifted before.
History offers plenty of precedent. The lost medieval town of Dunwich slipped into the sea not overnight, but over generations. Inland settlements have also crept away from waterlogged ground as conditions changed. What matters is not permanence, but continuity.
Professor Sear warns that isolated projects, however successful, are not enough on their own. The scale of change required is large. But scaling up does not mean scaling up machinery. It means linking many local decisions together, each working with natural processes rather than against them.
Localism does not deny the need for engineering. It simply puts engineering in its place. Hard defences may still protect some assets. But the broader task is cultural. It is about relearning how to live with water, not in spite of it.
Surface water is becoming a defining feature of the future landscape. Whether it brings repeated disruption or a new kind of stability depends on who is allowed to decide. When decisions are made locally, with a clear view of the land and its limits, water stops being an enemy and becomes part of the settlement again.
Fact 1: Britain is an extremely expensive place to build just about any kind of infrastructure.
Britain is currently building both the world’s most expensive nuclear power station and the world’s most expensive high speed railway line. British tram projects cost on average twice more than the average European tramway and three and a half times more than the average German tramway. The planning application for the Lower Thames Crossing (a road tunnel between Kent and Essex) cost more to produce than it cost Norway to build the world’s longest road tunnel and the world’s deepest subsea tunnel combined.
Fact 2: Britain is an extremely centralised country. Local leaders in Britain lack the power to independently approve or fund (via local taxes) new transport infrastructure.
To obtain permission to build new transport infrastructure, English local authorities must submit a planning application (Transport Works Act Order/TWAO) to the Department for Transport. In the case of a recent one mile tram extension, it took four years from submission to approval for the West Midlands Combined Authority (WMCA) to obtain the TWAO.
To fund projects, cities and regions submit bids to the Department for Transport, who in close collaboration with the Treasury, decide whether or not to fund projects from general taxation. By contrast, Dijon (France) was able to plan, approve, fund, and build a 12 mile tram network in just 4 years. The project was funded via a local payroll tax on large employers (the Versement Transport). On a per-mile basis, the West Midlands project cost six times more than the Dijon project.
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Is the latter (centralisation) to blame for the former (high infrastructure costs)? Alon Levy of the Transit Costs Project (TCP) doesn’t think so. In a recent blog, they argue that while there may be good reasons to devolve power, Britain’s centralisation isn’t the driver for Britain’s high infrastructure costs.
For those unaware, Alon Levy and the TCP have been extremely influential in highlighting the massive disparity in infrastructure construction costs between the Anglosphere and the rest of the world. The TCP has produced a number of country-specific deep dives into infrastructure construction. Readers can skim the Sweden, Italy and Istanbul studies to find out what works, or read the Boston and New York studies to find out what doesn’t. For those looking for even more lessons on what not to do, there will soon also be a UK study, covering Crossrail, the Northern Line Extension, and the DLR.
Levy’s key takeaway from this, as yet unpublished, UK study is that Britain’s infrastructure cost problems are not the result of excessive centralisation, but rather down to the gradual adoption of what Levy dubs the ‘globalised approach’. In essence, Britain, like other Anglosphere countries, outsources almost everything. Low-cost countries like Sweden and Italy maintain a core of engineering expertise within the state and complex projects are designed in-house then put out to tender. Britain, by contrast, is heavily reliant on private-sector consultants to design projects and public tenders bundle up design and construction. When projects finish in Britain, teams disband. Lessons learnt are lost. By contrast, the Swedish engineers who designed the Citybanan (a crossrail-style tunnel through Stockholm connecting up commuter rail lines) moved on to designing Nya Tunnelbanan (a massive expansion of the city’s metro system).
Levy points out that Italy can build cheaply (far cheaper than Britain) despite high levels of centralisation. What sets Italy apart is the deep banks of engineering knowledge within the state – knowledge that the British state can only access when it hires consultants at high cost (and at a severe informational disadvantage). It should be noted Levy concedes that Italian centralisation does differ in one key way: Britain relies on ministerial approvals while Italy lets civil servants with expertise in engineering get on with it.
I have argued before that while the direct costs of regulation, such as the requirement to build a £120m bat tunnel (a tenth of a percent of HS2’s total budget), are insufficient to explain why British infrastructure is so expensive to build, regulation is still a major cost-driver via an indirect route.
What matters for cost reduction is ultimately the ability to retain expertise between projects, to build supply-chains that spread fixed-costs over multiple projects, and to innovate in construction and design. The problem is regulation undermines all of these proven cost-reducers. In the case of nuclear, safety regulations force frequent design changes between projects undermining learning-by-doing. While a long drawn-out and uncertain planning process (plus the threat of judicial review) mean that investments in supply chains become incredibly risky – workers and equipment may sit idle for years between projects.
So why might centralisation be an issue? Because it exacerbates the planning and regulatory problems that drive costs increases.
In Britain, local authorities have every incentive to block new development and little incentive to say yes. New homes put pressure on public services and infrastructure. In some parts of the world, new development also brings a new cash flow. A $500,000 (£400,000) home in Houston generates around $9,000 (£7,200) in annual property tax revenue. Council tax in England is far lower, a home of equivalent value might bring in just £2,200 a year, roughly a third as much. And in Britain, councils have fewer freedoms to spend that revenue on their priorities – most of that £2,200 will go on statutory services like social care.
Britain’s most significant tax on housing is Stamp Duty, which flows directly to HM Treasury (and not to the local authority). Business Rates, which apply to commercial development, are only partially retained. Outside of special areas, local authorities only receive half of the revenue raised from business property taxes on new development. And funding formulas for local government often change for redistributive ends. Put simply, the fiscal incentives to approve development in Britain are extremely weak.
Some argue that the way to overcome local opposition to development is shifting decision making up a level. Labour’s re-imposition of housing targets and California’s Builders’ Remedy (where places that fail to build are forced to approve new homes) are two examples of this approach. The Nationally Significant Infrastructure Project system, where planning approval for major transport and energy projects is decided on by independent central experts (and not the areas affected) is another.
Want to stop new homes being built on farmland near the edge of your town? Lobby for a stronger green belt that blocks homes being built on farmland on the edge of every town. Want to stop a new motorway that might shift traffic to your area? Campaign for tougher nature protections that apply equally to motorways in Kent, trams in West Yorkshire, and nuclear power stations in Somerset. Anti-pylon activists in East Anglia are some of the strongest defenders of the National Landscapes duty, which blocked a station car park expansion in Essex, created problems for airport expansion in Bedfordshire, and delayed housebuilding in Kent.
And if you are a Government minister who wants to repeal a law that makes it easy to sue developers or a law that mandates extensive consultation, be prepared to fight a coalition of people opposed to motorways in Kent, homes in Hampshire, and nuclear power stations in Somerset who would have little in common other than opposing development near them.
Not every development is unpopular, but even popular developments have to comply with regulations and requirements designed to stop unpopular developments. There are few environmental wins more clear-cut than taking cars off the road and replacing them with trams. Trams are good for air quality, cut carbon emissions, and reduce noise. They are also popular. Poll after poll shows high levels of support for a tram in Leeds. Yet the same environmental bureaucracy built-up to delay and block more controversial types of development is also holding up popular new green infrastructure. Over 5,000 environmental surveys have been carried out for the now-delayed Leeds tram.
In other words, the incentive mismatch caused by Britain’s excessive centralisation has not only prompted the creation of tools to stop controversial development, but also created the crud that makes it hard to build almost anything.
This incentive mismatch is not the only driver of the growth of planning and environmental red-tape. People support environmental regulation in part because they sincerely want to protect the environment. Post-Grenfell fire safety rules make it much harder to build new residential towers, but they were adopted out of a genuine concern for safety. Planners genuinely believe that the planning restrictions they advocate around light, outdoor space, height, and so on, do create more ‘liveable’ places. Yet centralisation matters here too. If local authorities depend on new development for revenue, they would have a strong incentive to push back on excessive restrictions on building. There would be a political cost to regulatory growth. The problem is for many opponents and veto-players, the trade-off for greater environmental protection/fire safety (less development) is a feature not a bug.
France’s rapid nuclear buildout is sometimes understood as a triumph of the state overriding local objections. Tony Benn was famously told by a French official that ‘when you drain a swamp, you don’t consult the frogs’. Sizewell C by contrast had 7 separate consultations in 8 years. Yet there’s another side to the story. France’s tax system, which levied taxes on business structures (a bit like business rates), meant that areas which hosted nuclear power stations benefitted massively financially. Alex Chalmers notes that “French councils paid an average of €35 in subsidies … per local resident. In the 19 areas that hosted nuclear power, the average was €450.” This may be why support for France’s nuclear programme remained strong even in the wake of disasters like Chernobyl.
It is a world away from the incentives in Britain. Hinkley Point C’s community benefit package of £128m over 40 years works out to roughly £6 per Somerset resident per year. Britain’s tax on business structures provides much weaker incentives to approve development: councils retain only 50% of the rates they raise locally, face levies of up to 50% on ‘disproportionate’ growth, and see gains redistributed nationally based on ‘needs’ at regular intervals. Unlike in France, Hinkley Point C’s rates windfall will not lead to local tax cuts visible on every household bill.
There are other ways centralisation creates problems in Britain. Transport projects are typically funded out of national pots. There is a separation between who pays, who benefits and who approves. If a project is over-budget or gold-plated in various ways, locals don’t bear the burden. Londoners are not paying £4bn more in tax because Crossrail was £4bn over-budget. Instead, the costs are spread across the whole country. This can happen, as it did with HS2, but when a project has sufficient momentum behind it, it becomes a prime opportunity to get pet projects funded.
Britain’s planning system contains multiple veto points where public bodies who have, at best, weak incentives for projects to be delivered cost-effectively can cause significant delay (and in some cases, kill projects all together).
When Crossrail was being planned, Tower Hamlets Council submitted a list of 96 objections. After extensive negotiation Crossrail were able to resolve the dispute – by accepting 94 of them – though the Council came back with even more. Due to the length of Crossrail, this process was repeated for 15 other councils. In some cases, redesigns in response to objections (the Fire Brigade requested eight large emergency evacuation shafts across Central London) were themselves redesigned (read: cancelled) in response to objections from boroughs.
The UK’s electricity strategy assumes a rapid expansion of offshore wind. In energy policy terms this looks logical. The resource is large, domestic, and low-carbon. Renewables already provide a substantial share of national power, and offshore wind capacity is set to grow sharply over the next decade.
But futurists increasingly ask a different question. Not how much electricity can be generated, but whether the national system can carry it, store it, and rely on it when conditions change.
Carrying Offshore Wind Power Inland
Offshore wind is mostly generated far from where electricity is used. Large volumes of power must be brought ashore and then transmitted across the country. This places enormous strain on the high-voltage transmission system operated by National Grid.
Futurists point out three structural problems.
First, grid capacity is already constrained. Many offshore wind projects are ready to generate but cannot connect because transmission upgrades are years behind. Queue backlogs now stretch well into the 2030s.
Second, the grid was never designed for this pattern of flow. It evolved around centralised power stations located close to industrial demand. Offshore wind reverses that logic, pushing large, intermittent surges of electricity into a system that must then move it long distances.
Third, public resistance is growing. New pylons, substations and overhead lines cut through countryside and settlements. Planning objections are not a side issue – they are becoming a binding constraint.
From a futurist perspective, the problem is not engineering alone. It is social and political capacity to keep expanding a national system indefinitely.
The Hard Reality of Windless and Sunless Days
A deeper concern lies in the weather itself.
The UK regularly experiences winter high-pressure systems that bring days, sometimes weeks, of cold, still air. These are precisely the moments when electricity demand rises sharply, while wind output collapses.
Solar contributes little at this time. Batteries help only briefly. Long-duration storage at national scale remains limited and costly.
Futurists therefore stress that the issue is not average annual generation, but system reliability during prolonged lulls. These conditions are not rare anomalies. They are recurring features of the British climate.
This creates a growing tension. The more the system relies on weather-dependent generation, the more complex and expensive it becomes to guarantee supply during unfavourable conditions.
Can the Grid Expansion Be Funded?
Official plans assume massive investment in new transmission lines, offshore connections, substations, and reinforcement of local distribution networks.
The question futurists increasingly ask is simple. Who pays?
Grid expansion costs run into tens of billions of pounds. These costs ultimately fall on electricity consumers through higher bills, or on the state through borrowing and subsidy. Both routes assume continued economic growth and political consent.
In a future shaped by:
stagnant or contracting real incomes
rising public debt
declining discretionary spending
the assumption that society can endlessly fund large, capital-intensive national infrastructure becomes fragile.
Futurists argue that there is a growing mismatch between industrial-era infrastructure ambitions and the economic reality of a society moving into long-term contraction.
Localism as a Structural Alternative
This is where localism enters the discussion, not as ideology but as system design.
Rather than forcing ever more electricity through an increasingly stressed national grid, futurists suggest a gradual shift toward local energy systems.
These include:
local wind and solar used close to where it is generated
small-scale storage tied to communities rather than the national system
demand adapted to local supply conditions rather than the other way round
Under localism, the grid still exists, but it becomes a supporting network, not the single point of failure on which everything depends.
Local systems are inherently more resilient. When national supply tightens, local generation and reduced demand soften the impact. When failures occur, they are smaller, slower, and easier to manage.
From a futurist viewpoint, this mirrors wider economic trends. As national systems struggle with scale, cost and complexity, informal and local arrangements expand naturally.
A Change in Expectations
The deeper shift is cultural.
For decades, the assumption has been that electricity will always be available, instantly, everywhere, regardless of weather or cost. Futurists increasingly question whether this expectation itself belongs to the era of cheap fossil energy.
In a constrained future, electricity becomes something that is:
more variable
more locally managed
more closely matched to essential needs
Localism does not promise unlimited power. It promises adaptation.
The Bottom Line
Futurists are not arguing that offshore wind is a mistake. They are arguing that building generation faster than the system can carry, store and socially accept it creates new vulnerabilities.
They question whether:
the national grid can expand at the required pace
the funding model is sustainable in a shrinking economy
reliance on weather-dependent generation can be made fully reliable at national scale
Many conclude that the long-term answer does not lie in ever-larger national systems, but in a gradual shift toward locality-based energy, reduced expectations, and resilience through simplicity.
In that sense, localism is not a retreat. It is an adaptation to physical, economic and social limits that are becoming increasingly hard to ignore.
Herefordshire Council has recently taken part in a major emergency planning exercise designed to test how local authorities would stay connected during a widespread power failure. This work forms part of ongoing efforts to strengthen community resilience across the West Mercia area.
The exercise, known as Exercise Echo, simulated a situation where a large-scale blackout knocks out traditional communication networks, including phone lines, mobile networks and internet services. Emergency planners from Herefordshire, Worcestershire and Shropshire counties came together with volunteer radio operators to see how they could maintain critical communications in such a scenario.
In December 2025 teams set up independent radio systems on high-ground sites such as the Malvern Hills and Clee Hill. These specialist radio relays enabled councils’ emergency planning hubs in Hereford, Worcester and Shrewsbury to transmit and receive messages without relying on the usual infrastructure. The aim was to ensure that, even if power and commercial networks were down, information could still be shared between authorities, and help could be coordinated effectively for residents.
While the likelihood of a nationwide blackout is low, planners emphasise that the value of such exercises lies in preparing for any eventuality. Large-scale power failures can arise from severe weather, technical faults or system overloads, and they create significant challenges for local services trying to support vulnerable people or maintain essential functions.
Herefordshire Council is part of the West Mercia Local Resilience Forum (LRF), a partnership of emergency services, councils, health agencies and volunteer groups working together to assess risks and prepare for emergencies. The LRF’s work includes planning for threats such as flooding, severe weather, transport incidents and loss of critical infrastructure like electricity.
Exercise Echo builds on earlier tests between Herefordshire and Worcestershire, and planners say it confirms the potential to expand and improve these alternative communications systems as part of wider emergency preparedness measures.
For residents and businesses, the council’s broader advice on emergency planning is to be aware of community resilience resources and to have personal plans in place for unexpected events.
Note: Are Parish Councils responsible for the preparation of contingency plans in the event of local power outages?
As the economy shrinks, global warming will ease – but it will not disappear, and there is no honest basis for saying when it might.
Economic contraction reduces energy use, transport, construction, manufacturing and long supply chains. These are the main sources of greenhouse gas emissions. If contraction is deep and long-lasting, emissions will fall sharply. On this point there is little dispute. A smaller economy emits less carbon.
But global warming is not driven by today’s emissions alone. It is driven by the accumulation of greenhouse gases already in the atmosphere. Carbon dioxide remains for centuries. Methane is shorter-lived but highly potent. Even if emissions were cut close to zero, temperatures would remain elevated for a very long time. Some further warming would still occur because the climate system responds slowly.
This means there is no moment at which global warming simply stops. There is only a slowing, then possibly a stabilisation, and only much later a very gradual decline.
Some changes are already locked in. Sea levels will continue to rise for centuries. Oceans will stay warmer and more acidic. Ice loss will not reverse on any meaningful human timescale. These processes do not respond quickly to economic change.
What contraction can do is prevent escalation. It can stop warming from running away beyond human capacity to adapt. That is not a full solution, but it is the difference between difficulty and collapse.
Timing matters, and here certainty is not possible. If global economic contraction were sustained:
emissions could fall within one or two decades
temperature rise might stabilise later this century
climate instability would persist for many decades
sea level rise would continue well beyond 2100
There is no credible date at which the problem “goes away”.
The honest conclusion is this. A shrinking economy does not restore the old climate. It limits further damage and makes adaptation possible. That is not failure. It is realism. It shifts the task from chasing growth-based fixes to learning how to live within new climatic limits, locally and materially.
We have glibly talked about the huge amount of energy consumed by data centres and whether the UK National Grid will be able to cope.
But do we know what we are talking about?
This is a photograph of an Amazon data centre in Morrow County, Oregon, USA.
Data centres need water to cool the servers, most of which need to be kept at 70 to 80 degrees to run effectively. The volume of water required is not the problem; The used water ejected from the data centres can end up, via water courses, polluting the fields used for growing food, which has been found to be contaminated.
Here is a map of planned data centres in the UK.
What the map shows (and what is worth noting)
These are particularly AI-ready ones backed by the government’s push and private investment.
The map shows a spread across the UK, including major clusters near London, in the North East, North West, and other parts.
The bulk of new data-centre proposals are concentrated around London and the South East, but there are also major planned sites across northern England, Wales and Scotland (reflecting a push beyond just the capital region). Data Centre Magazine+2Blackridge Research+2
Some of the largest upcoming developments include:
Elsham Tech Park (North Lincolnshire) — a massive planned data-centre campus. Blackridge Research
Cambois Data Center (Northumberland), near Blyth — a 720 MW facility under planning. Blackridge Research+1
East Havering Data Centre Campus (London Borough of Havering) — a large new centre in or near the London green belt. Barbour ABI+2Blackridge Research+2
Humber Tech Park (near the Humber Estuary / North Lincolnshire) — another significant planned campus. Blackridge Research+1
According to recent analysis, more than half of the proposed new data-centre facilities will be in London and its surrounding counties, though a substantial number are dispersed across the UK — including Wales, Scotland, Manchester, and other locations. Data Centre Magazine+1
The map also reflects a shift in policy and regulation: the government is now formally designating data centres as eligible for “infrastructure-scale” consenting under the revised rules for “nationally significant infrastructure projects (NSIPs)”. This means major new facilities will have an easier path through planning, which is likely to accelerate build-out across many of these mapped sites. Pinsent Masons+1
⚠️ What the map doesn’t guarantee
The map shows proposed or planned data-centre sites — not all will necessarily be built. Some may stall, be altered, or cancelled depending on planning outcomes, grid/water supply issues, or local opposition.
Timing is uncertain — while many sites appear on the map now, actual construction and operation may be several years away.
Impact on local infrastructure (power grid, water supply, transport) is real. The government recognises this and has introduced support mechanisms (including incentives for locating data centres where grid capacity for renewables is stronger) through initiatives like AI Growth Zones (AIGZ).
Boundaries and Belonging in the Western world was built on the power of fossil fuels. Coal, oil, and gas released more energy in a century than wood and muscle had done in thousands of years. They allowed cities to sprawl, food to travel, and people to live far from the sources of what sustained them.
Now that age is ending. As the fossil-fuel economy contracts — through depletion, cost, and climate constraint — its vast systems begin to shrink. The future will be slower, more local, and more dependent on renewable energy from the land itself. Out of this contraction will grow a new pattern of life: the wood economy.
The Natural Form of Localities
A locality is a human-scale ecosystem — a place defined not by lines on a map but by what can be sustained within its reach of energy and resources. Its extent depends on population density, terrain, and the effort needed to move people, goods, and ideas.
In the countryside, where populations are sparse, a locality may cover several former parishes, linked by woodland, water, and tramway. In towns it may be no more than a few streets and workshops clustered around a market square. Each finds its natural limit where daily cooperation and personal knowledge can still hold.
Dorothy Hartley, writing in Made in England, reminded us that water gathers in valleys and that “man follows water.” The mill stood where the stream turned, and cottages grew around it. In the coming age, those same patterns will return. Localities will once again form along rivers, ridges, and catchments, for water defines both boundary and lifeblood.
From Parishes to Localities
The ancient parishes of England were never arbitrary. Their lines often followed tribal lands, ridgelines, or watersheds — boundaries that made sense to people who walked them.
As the industrial framework recedes, those old contours will quietly reassert themselves. Localities will emerge around shared coppices, mills, and meeting halls. They may overlap or divide, depending on geography and population. The essential unit will be small enough for familiarity, large enough for self-reliance.
Energy descent makes smallness practical again. Without cheap fuel, long-distance commuting and centralised services fade. Authority and accountability return to where people can see one another’s work.
Cities Dividing into Localities
Cities were once groups of villages. London, Birmingham, and Manchester all began as loose clusters of settlements that later fused together under coal and steam.
As fossil-fuel energy declines, this process reverses. Cities will redivide into localities — self-managed neighbourhoods with their own gardens, workshops, and shared facilities. Electric grids may fragment; heating will become localised; transport will slow. The metropolis will soften back into a constellation of distinct communities, each aware of its boundaries and its dependence on nearby others.
This is not collapse, but re-formation — the industrial city returning to its village roots, adapted to a lower-energy future.
Population and Scale
The functioning size of a locality depends on density and resources. Rural localities may sustain a few hundred people across wide acres; urban ones may include several thousand. Beyond that, personal accountability fades and bureaucracy returns.
Sociological research supports this. Communities of about five hundred to five thousand can manage their own economies and decision-making without rigid hierarchies. It is roughly the range in which people can know one another by face and reputation — the foundation of trust.
Water and Power
Water is both a boundary and an energy source. Streams, rivers, and valleys determine settlement, as they always have. Water mills will return to importance — grinding grain, sawing timber, pressing oil, or generating small amounts of electricity.
Each catchment becomes a cooperative system: those who live upstream must safeguard the flow for those below. This natural interdependence replaces distant regulation. The landscape itself becomes the framework of law.
Shared Culture and Specialisation
Localities will not all look alike. Each will develop its own identity and special skill. Just as Studley in Warwickshire became known for needle making, others will be known for woodworking, pottery, herbal medicine, or glass.
Such specialisation gives character to the country and underpins small-scale trade between localities. Products carry the mark of place — tools stamped with a local symbol, pottery fired with clay from a known pit, honey tasting of a particular valley’s flowers.
The national economy thus becomes a patchwork of productive localities, trading modest surpluses rather than mass goods.
Migration and Renewal
Migration will continue — both within and into the UK — but at a slower, more deliberate pace.
Within the country, people will leave high-cost urban areas for smaller, self-reliant settlements where they can work directly in food, craft, or care. Migration from abroad will also persist, as it has through all British history. Newcomers will find belonging through participation — working in coppices, mills, or workshops, and sharing in local festivals and responsibilities.
Cultural diversity will remain, but it will be expressed through work and contribution, not separation. Each new skill or tradition becomes part of the local identity, as happened through centuries of craft migration before the fossil age.
Religion, Practice, and Social Cohesion
Faith will return to smaller meeting places — timber halls, converted barns, or open groves. Religious life will be woven into the calendar of work and season: planting, harvest, and renewal.
Doctrinal difference will matter less than shared values — fairness, stewardship, and respect for life. The rhythm of communal feasts and quiet observances will reinforce belonging and give spiritual coherence to the practical life of the locality.
Railways and the Shape of Settlement
Even in a shrinking fossil-fuel economy, inter-locality rail lines will survive. They are among the most durable artefacts of industrial civilisation — built to last and easily maintained.
Coal, charcoal, or wood-gas-fired steam engines will continue to move goods and travellers at moderate speeds. They will form the spine of national cohesion, linking one cluster of localities to another.
Settlement will once again centre around stations, as it did before the motor age. People will walk or ride five miles to meet the train, just as they did in the 19th century. Footpaths and tramways will radiate from each station like the spokes of a wheel, connecting workshops, markets, and homes.
Around these railheads small service centres will grow — inns, warehouses, repair shops, post rooms, and guild exchanges. The old sprawl of suburbia will contract into distinct, walkable communities, each aware of its boundary and connection.
The train, no longer a symbol of haste, becomes the rhythm of inter-local exchange. It allows movement and trade without sacrificing locality.
Boundaries That Breathe
The boundaries of localities will never be fixed. They will expand and contract as woodlands grow, water shifts, and populations change. Cooperation between neighbours replaces central direction.
Localities will link through federations — councils of guild representatives and mints — managing trade, transport, and environmental care. Decision-making will rise only as far as necessary, never higher.
These boundaries breathe like the lungs of the nation, each drawing in what it needs and exhaling what it can share.
The Shape of the Nation to Come
As the fossil-fuel economy contracts, it will not simply vanish — it will recede like a tide, leaving behind a network of harbours, tracks, and skills ready for reuse. The national framework remains, but it is no longer a structure of command; it becomes a pattern of cooperation.
Britain will settle into a mosaic of working localities — each tending its own woods and water, producing food, craft, and culture, and linked by the rail lines, canals, and coastal routes of the old industrial world. The capital and the great cities will endure, but not as engines of growth: they will serve as exchange points, libraries, and archives — the memory of the nation.
Movement will slow, but life will deepen. The quality of existence will no longer be measured by output but by balance — between work and rest, between locality and landscape, between human need and nature’s capacity.
This is not a return to the past but a re-rooting in continuity. The wood economy represents not nostalgia, but maturity — a civilisation adjusting to the limits of the living world. It is a Britain smaller in scale, steadier in rhythm, and richer in meaning — a land once more shaped by the patient flow of water and the enduring work of human hands.
The Telegraph reports that Britain is now importing around 16 percent of its electricity in the first nine months of this year, up from 15.6 percent the year before. The cause lies in the decline of the nation’s generating capacity, high domestic prices compared with France and Norway, and the economics of undersea interconnectors that automatically draw in cheaper foreign power.
This growing dependence exposes a fundamental weakness in the centralised energy system. When national supply contracts, and foreign imports fill the gap, Britain becomes more vulnerable to international price shifts, market volatility, and cross-border politics. The remedy is not simply to build more giant projects but to change the structure of the system itself.
Localism: The Practical Alternative
1. Resilient, locally controlled supply Local energy generation – solar panels on roofs, community wind farms, small-scale hydro, or biomass systems – can supply local needs directly. This reduces exposure to the fluctuating international market and gives communities a degree of energy independence that the national grid cannot.
2. Matching production with local demand A localised system aligns supply with the pattern of local consumption. Energy generated nearby is used nearby, cutting transmission losses and easing strain on national infrastructure.
3. Faster delivery through community engagement Large projects often stall in the planning system. Local schemes, supported by residents and councils, can be built quickly. Local ownership generates pride and participation, creating a virtuous circle of trust and investment.
4. Keeping value within the community When electricity is produced locally, so is its economic benefit. Revenue from generation stays in the locality, creating jobs and funding further investment in storage, maintenance, and energy efficiency.
What This Looks Like
Localities could develop networks of community energy cooperatives, each managing their own mix of solar, wind, and battery storage. Councils could coordinate neighbourhood micro-grids, ensuring power stability and fair distribution. Local demand-management schemes could smooth peaks in usage, reducing the need for imported electricity at critical times.
These developments do not replace national systems – they strengthen them from the ground up. The national grid becomes a backup, not the lifeline it is today.
A Necessary Evolution
The UK’s generating capacity fell to 71.7 gigawatts last year, down 3 percent. That trend will not reverse quickly. Centralised, capital-intensive projects take years to complete. Local energy projects can be conceived, financed, and operating within months.
Localism therefore represents the natural evolution of the British energy system – smaller, faster, more flexible, and more secure.
Conclusion
Britain’s growing reliance on foreign electricity is a symptom of over-centralisation and under-investment in local capacity. The answer lies not in larger reactors or longer cables, but in empowering local communities to generate and manage their own energy. Localism restores control, strengthens resilience, and keeps wealth circulating where it is produced.
The power Britain needs for the future may not come from across the Channel, but from its own localities – rooftop by rooftop, turbine by turbine.
Aviva’s report, Building Future Communities, prompted this piece. It warns that millions more homes in Britain will face flooding by 2050. The threat is not confined to coasts and rivers. Much of the new risk will come from within towns and cities, where heavy rain overwhelms drains and the land can no longer clear the water.
The report describes a Britain where formal defences can no longer cope. Dykes, pumps, and culverts were built for a climate that no longer exists. The ground is wetter, storms are heavier, and budgets are thinner. Aviva calls for resilience in building and planning, but it also hints at a more profound truth — that some places may no longer be defendable.
History offers a warning. On the Humber estuary, the medieval town of Ravenser Odd was once a busy port with its own market and church. It stood near today’s Spurn Point. Repeated storms and shifting tides gradually destroyed it. By 1362, it had been swallowed by the sea. The people left, and the name survived only on old charts.
Hull stands further inland, but faces a similar danger. About ninety per cent of the city lies below the level of a high tide in the Humber. Its safety depends entirely on a network of pumping stations that lift water out of low ground and push it towards the estuary. When tides are high, sluices close and the pumps must run continuously to prevent water from flowing back into the city.
In 2007, heavy rain overwhelmed parts of the system. Pumping stations failed, and water poured through streets and homes. Since then, the pumps have been modernised, but their dependence on electricity, maintenance, and constant management remains. Without them, large areas of Hull would lie underwater within days.
The city’s long history of self-reliance is reflected not only in its flood defences but in its communications. Hull is the only place in Britain with its own independent telephone network, founded by the city council in 1904. Local control of the telephone system meant that engineers and pumping stations could always stay in contact, even if national lines failed. The decision was made for practical reasons — to keep the pumps, power, and emergency services connected — but it became a symbol of the city’s independence. That local autonomy, once an oddity, now looks like a model for the future.
The lesson is stark. Hull does not stand above the flood. It stays dry only because machines keep it so. As sea levels rise, the pumps must work harder against higher tides. When costs or power shortages interrupt the system, flooding will return.
Flooding is not just a coastal story. Inland towns face a different but equally dangerous threat. Tewkesbury, where the Severn meets the Avon, has flooded repeatedly in recent years. In 2007, it was cut off entirely, and thousands of homes were lost to the water. Each time the pattern repeats — heavy rain, full rivers, overwhelmed drains, and a slow, difficult recovery.
Another, quieter problem is rising groundwater beneath our cities. In Liverpool, engineers now have to pump water constantly out of railway tunnels to keep them dry. The British Geological Survey has found that the city’s water table is rising because industry has gone. Factories and shipyards once drew large volumes of groundwater for cooling and process water. When that abstraction stopped, the underground water began to return. Basements, subways, and tunnels that were once dry are now under threat.
The same is happening across post-industrial Britain. Groundwater is creeping back into places built on the assumption that pumping would go on forever. It is a hidden flood, rising from below, just as the tides rise above.
Together, these examples show how fragile the modern landscape has become. We have built towns and cities that depend on constant effort to keep nature out. When that effort falters — through power failure, neglect, or economic decline — the land reclaims itself.
Government cannot hold back every tide or drain every valley. Aviva has told Parliament that hundreds of thousands of properties are already more at risk because existing flood defences are deteriorating. Insurance is being withdrawn from high-risk areas. The era of guaranteed rescue is ending.
Localism will become the only workable response. Communities will have to decide which ground can be held and which must be given up. They will need their own plans for shelter, food, and recovery. In some places, retreat will be wiser than defence.
Abandonment is not failure if it allows life to continue elsewhere. New settlements on higher ground could become the next generation of self-reliant communities, built around local supply, shared work, and mutual care.
Ravenser Odd was lost when the sea advanced faster than its people could adapt. Hull, Tewkesbury, and Liverpool each face the same test in different forms — the sea, the storm, and the water below.
When Water Has the Last Word
The idea of retreat is not new. Throughout British history, many inland settlements have disappeared when the land became too wet to live on.
In the 14th century, the upland village of Hundatorra on Dartmoor was abandoned after years of cold, wet seasons. Its fields, once tilled for grain, turned to bog. The people left, and a few stone houses are all that remain today.
Further north, in 17th-century Moray, the village of Culbin was lost when violent storms and shifting sand choked the drainage of the River Findhorn. The rising water and drifting dunes buried farms and crofts. Families walked away and never returned.
The pattern continues in modern form. Tenbury Wells in Worcestershire has flooded so often that insurers are withdrawing cover. Businesses cannot reopen after every deluge. One by one, they leave. This is how abandonment begins in our time — not with disaster relief, but with quiet departure.
When the waters rise, the question will not be whether government can save us, but whether we can save ourselves. Localism is not just the response to a failing system. It is the only way of living that can endure when the formal world begins to sink.
Postscript
The story of flooding is also the story of economic change. The industrial economy depended on heavy infrastructure, central planning, and a constant flow of energy to hold nature in check. Pumps, drains, and flood defences were all part of that system.
As the formal economy weakens and energy becomes more costly, these systems can no longer be sustained everywhere. What follows is the return of the informal economy — the local, the adaptable, and the human.
Localism is not just a social response to crisis; it is the next stage of the economy’s evolution. When the machines fall silent, it will be the people nearby, not the institutions above, who keep life going.
Trees also remove carbon and store it in their roots, trunks, branches, and leaves. Altogether, the world’s forests store roughly 
