War Profits vs Green Shift: How Britain’s Energy Crisis Could Backfire

The Obscene Windfall No One Wanted

The numbers are staggering, almost grotesque. Shell posted £23 billion in profits last quarter. BP isn’t far behind. And while British families scramble to afford petrol for their commutes or heating for their homes, these companies are laughing all the way to the bank—thanks to a war half a world away. The Iran conflict has sent oil prices skyrocketing, and with them, the fortunes of an industry that was supposed to be on its way out.

But here’s the twist: this crisis might actually speed up the green transition. Or at least, it should. The question is whether Britain’s political class has the stomach for the fight.

The Silver Lining That Isn’t Guaranteed

There’s a perverse logic at play. High fossil fuel prices make renewables more competitive overnight. Solar and wind, already cheaper than gas in most of Europe, become even more attractive when oil is trading at $120 a barrel. The International Energy Agency (IEA) has been clear: every dollar invested in clean energy now saves three dollars in future fossil fuel costs. Yet the UK’s response has been sluggish at best, contradictory at worst.

Take the recent backtracking on onshore wind bans. The government lifted restrictions in England last year, only to see local councils immediately reinstate them in wealthy Tory heartlands. Meanwhile, offshore wind projects—hailed as Britain’s great green hope—are stalling. Vattenfall pulled out of a major Norfolk project in 2023, citing rising costs. And while Labour has promised a £28 billion green investment plan, Starmer’s team has already watered it down, fearing accusations of "reckless spending."

The result? A country that talks big on net-zero but dithers when it matters. While Germany fast-tracks hydrogen hubs and France bets on nuclear, Britain risks being left with neither the infrastructure nor the political will to break its fossil fuel addiction.

The Culture War Distraction

And then there’s the noise. While the energy crisis rages, the culture wars suck up all the oxygen. The latest battleground? A cold war spy thriller starring Emilia Clarke, of all things. Ponies—a glossy, star-studded drama about "persons of no interest" uncovering state secrets—has been hailed as "fun" and "stylish" by critics. But in a country where children are waiting three days in A&E for mental health beds and families are choosing between heating and eating, the celebration of escapist entertainment feels like a distraction.

Not that culture can’t be a force for change. Caroline Shaw and Andrew Yee’s Or, the Whale—a haunting collaboration inspired by Moby-Dick—uses music to evoke environmental collapse. But these are exceptions. Most of Britain’s cultural output remains stubbornly apolitical, even as the country’s infrastructure crumbles. Where are the blockbuster films about the energy transition? The chart-topping songs about climate anxiety? The novels that grapple with the moral bankruptcy of war profits?

Instead, we get sea foam—literally. The Guardian’s recent explainer on the "sinister-looking" froth piling up on British beaches was a masterclass in missing the point. Yes, it’s natural. No, it’s not pollution. But in a country where actual pollution is choking communities and fossil fuel giants are posting record profits, the obsession with harmless algae feels like climate denial by another name.

The African Paradox

If Britain is dragging its feet, Africa is offering a masterclass in hard choices. A recent Guardian podcast followed hunters who argue that big game hunting—yes, shooting lions and elephants for sport—can fund conservation. The logic is brutal but compelling: wealthy tourists pay tens of thousands of dollars to kill a single animal, and that money keeps anti-poaching rangers employed and habitats protected.

Critics call it neocolonialism. But with African wildlife populations plummeting and Western funding for conservation drying up, the alternative might be no wildlife at all. It’s a stark reminder that the green transition isn’t just about wind turbines and solar panels. It’s about power, money, and who gets to decide what’s worth saving.

Britain, meanwhile, can’t even decide whether to build more wind farms.

What Happens Next

Here’s the hard truth: the UK’s energy future isn’t being decided in Westminster. It’s being decided in boardrooms in Houston and Riyadh, in the algorithms of trading desks, and in the daily choices of millions of Britons who just want to keep the lights on. The Iran crisis has exposed the fragility of the old system. The question is whether Britain will use this moment to build something new—or double down on the past.

One thing is certain: the longer the country waits, the more painful the transition will be. And the more obscene the profits for those who’ve already made their fortunes from the mess.