The Severn Barrage, Bane or Blessing?
The Severn has the second highest tidal range in the world, and dreams of harnessing the power involved in the vast quantities of water perpetually sloshing up and down some fifty miles of estuary has tempted many down the years. The need for renewable energy is becoming desperate as the alternatives dwindle. World oil production may well have peaked, and its price has increased almost ten fold in a twenty years. North Sea gas has run out, and the cheapest alternative is to put ourselves at the mercy of the Russians. The supply of uranium ore is limited, and the costs of dealing with the decommissioning of nuclear power stations is becoming burdensome. We have got lots of coal still, but the technology of underground gasification and carbon dioxide capture is unproven.
The renewable alternatives are also pretty unsatisfactory. The wind is fickle, the best water power has long since been tapped, and the use of biomass gives a low grade fuel, and to provide for our needs would gobble up most of our agricultural land. Solar energy is least available in mid-winter when it is most needed, doesn’t work at night, and really needs a transformation in battery technology to be effective, though it may well be the best bet long-term. Otherwise freeze or starve are the unhappy choices facing us, and tapping tidal power, which our mediaeval ancestors used very successfully on a small scale, looks very attractive.
It has been calculated that a barrage across the Severn from Brean Down to Cardiff would generate up to five percent of the nation’s electrical demand, and, once built, should provide effectively costless power for at least a century, by which time we might have solved the nuclear fusion problem, or found some other way of living. Five percent is not much, but we could probably save 30% by wasting less, perhaps best achieved by putting the price up year on year, and tidal power would be a part of a complex mix of renewable and fossil power sources that would enable us to get by until the world was transformed in ways as yet unimaginable (as it has been in the past hundred years, after all).
That, in essence, is the argument for the barrage. The technology to build it clearly exists, a tiny prototype in northern France has worked well for forty years, the construction costs are substantial, but less than has been poured into the financial sector in the past year to prop up a kind of cloud-cuckoo-land on which we all appear to depend, and, it could be argued, in a time of high unemployment, investing in vital public works of huge long-term value is just the sort of project we need.
So why am I opposed to it? Fundamentally because electrical power should be generated where it is used, as there are substantial transmission losses, and the money that a barrage would cost could far better be spent on solar panels for all. And, because of the tidal rhythm in the estuary, half the power produced each day would come between 1am and 3am, when it was least needed. Also, because tidal power itself varies by a factor of four over a fortnightly cycle, the barrage would not replace the need for existing conventional power stations, and the total reduction in CO2 output resulting has been estimated as just 0.9% a year.
For such trivial gains we would destroy a unique ecosystem, which has every possible level of legal protection, in almost total ignorance of the long-term consequences, exactly the sort of arrogant approach towards the natural environment that we deplore in, say Brazil and the Amazon rainforest. The barrage might lead to the silting of the enclosed lagoon, and the destruction thus of the ports dependent on deep water channels. The impact on the whole coast both above and below the barrage is entirely unpredictable. Weston could lose its sand. It is quite unclear where the materials to build the barrage would come from; coal-tip waste from S Wales, sand dredged from the estuary itself, stone quarried from the Mendips, or from Scottish islands, have all been suggested, and all involve further massive environmental destruction.
A barrage would change the salinity of the water, and hence all the biodiversity at present in existence. The whole enclosed lake might become a green soup, as the enclosed Cardiff Bay almost did. The wintering birds, for which we have an international responsibility to the lands in which they breed, the entire Arctic Circle, would decrease, just as our summer visitors from Africa are decreasing because of the spread of the Sahara. The barrage would render useless the flood control systems for all the rivers above the barrage that depend on gravity flaps, including the Frome in Bristol, and might lead to the silting up of Bridgewater Bay, or alternately its flooding from an increased tidal range. Should there be sea-level rise in the course of the next century the outcomes are even less certain.
In my judgement the known and unknown environmental consequences outweigh gains that are essentially trivial.
Richard Bland