Let’s talk about perceptionware. Perceptionware is technology whose main purpose is to create an impression of action. Whether it will ever work at scale is less important, in some cases entirely beside the point. If it reassures the public and persuades government not to regulate damaging industries, that’s mission accomplished.
Managing perceptions is an expensive business. Real money, especially public money, is spent on fake solutions. Take carbon capture and storage: catching and burying carbon dioxide emissions from power stations, oil and gas fields, and steel and cement plants. For 20 years, it has spectacularly failed to reduce greenhouse gas emissions. In fact, its only clear successes involve enhanced oil recovery: carbon dioxide is used to drive oil out of geological formations that are otherwise difficult to exploit. With astonishing chutzpah, some oil companies have claimed the small amount of carbon that remains trapped in the rocks as a climate benefit. Though it is greatly outweighed by the extra oil extracted, they have, as a result, received billions in government subsidies.
The previous UK government pledged £20bn to “develop” carbon capture and storage: a technology that has been “developing” for 50 years. Astonishingly, Labour, despite cutting everything else, promised in its manifesto to sustain this investment.
Another example is making oil from algae, whose rapid deployment fossil fuel companies trumpeted 15 years ago. Hundreds of millions was spent on advertising this “fuel of the future”. Since then, their research programmes have quietly been shelved. As one former employee of Exxon’s algae research arm, missing what I see as the entire point, complained: “I wish they had given us more research funding versus spending so much on advertising.”
That’s a strong indication of perceptionware: advertising a technology before its benefits are felt. ExxonMobil is adept at this: for example, it has been telling British motorists that they can “fill up with less impact”, thanks to a carbon capture and storage scheme at its oil refinery in Hampshire. It turned out that as of March, Exxon has neither received a licence for the scheme, nor invested any money in it. The company claims it is still moving ahead with the plan.
But perhaps the clearest example of perceptionware is the repeated unveiling, across the past 25 years, of mumbo-jumbo jets. Throughout this period, fossil fuel and airline companies have announced prototype green aircraft or prototype green fuels, none of which has made any significant dent in emissions or, in most cases, materialised at all. Their sole effect so far has been to help companies avoid legislative action.
In July, our new government released details of its “sustainable aviation fuels” plan. It says it will promote three kinds of aircraft fuel: biofuel, fuel from waste and synthetic kerosene.
I’m very much in favour of new environmental technologies. I’m very much against their use as substitutes for effective policy. The previous government, which launched this programme, was uncharacteristically candid about its purpose: “This plan is part of our approach to ensure that the rationing of flights through ‘demand management’ is ruled out.” Rishi Sunak scrapped government proposals for new aviation taxes, while the Department for Transport claimed “the aviation sector can achieve net zero through efficiency improvements, cleaner fuels and new technologies”: a heroic assault on the truth, even by Tory standards.
But never mind, this perceptionware is now Labour policy too. Failure is baked in. Even with restrictions on which feedstocks can be used, any significant deployment of biofuels for aviation will increase total demand, which means either that agricultural crops are removed from human consumption, raising the price of food and therefore increasing global hunger, or that wild ecosystems are destroyed to make way for agricultural expansion. It’s simple maths, which successive governments seem determined not to understand.
As for using waste, this promise is repeatedly rolled out to justify disastrous policies. Biodiesel would be made from used cooking oil, but as soon as production increased, new palm oil was used instead. Biomass burners would mop up forestry waste, but soon started taking whole trees and, in some cases, entire forests. Biogas would be made from sewage and food waste, but operators quickly discovered they could produce more with dedicated crops like maize and potatoes. Why? Because waste is generally low in energy, variable and expensive to handle. Already, there’s intense competition for the small portion of waste that might be commercially useful, as companies chase carbon payments: so much so that fresh palm oil has been sold as waste oil, as this attracts a higher premium.
In principle, synthetic kerosene, made by combining green hydrogen with carbon dioxide, is a better option. But this technology is extremely expensive. After 25 years, it remains an “infant industry”: that’s some infancy. This is why the government envisages that only 3.5% of jet fuel in the UK will be made this way by 2040.
Meanwhile, after falling during the first wave of Covid-19, aircraft pollution is likely to return this year to its pre-pandemic level of 8% of UK emissions. That’s by no means the worst of it, as carbon dioxide is just one of aviation’s greenhouse impacts. The release of pollutants and water vapour high above the surface of the Earth causes roughly three times more heating than the carbon. Even so, taking CO2 alone, the government’s climate change committee estimates that, without real abatement, by 2050 aviation will consume 36% of the UK’s carbon budget, becoming the country’s principal source of greenhouse gases. This is because air passenger numbers will continue to grow (government figures suggest by 70% from 2018 to 2050), while the rest of the economy is decarbonised.
Only by limiting demand, with fair measures such as a frequent flyer levy, can the government quickly reduce the impacts of aviation, and speed is everything. Instead, it relies on perceptionware.
A paper published in Science last month reviewed 1,500 climate policies around the world, and found that only 63 have delivered significant benefits. These include fuel taxes, carbon floor prices, bans on damaging technologies, renewables mandates, energy efficiency mandates, strong building regulations and higher industrial performance standards. The paper should be a blueprint for action. But precisely because these policies generate real change, they cause conflict with powerful interests. If there is one thing in which Keir Starmer’s government specialises, it’s avoiding conflict with power.
Yes, these are early days, and you live in hope of more enlightened policy. If the new government wants to show it is serious about preventing environmental catastrophe, it should follow the 63-fold way, and drop the expensive excuses.
George Monbiot is a Guardian columnist
