I’m Just a Fisherman, But Something About the Climate Narrative Doesn’t Add Up
- Dane Van Der Neut
- 11 minutes ago
- 8 min read
By all accounts, we are told that the world is facing a climate emergency — an existential crisis demanding urgent and radical change. Australia, like many nations signed onto the Paris Agreement, has echoed that message loudly. Entire industries are being reshaped, livelihoods disrupted, and vast sums of taxpayer money are being poured into so-called “solutions” that, for all their buzzwords, don’t quite add up when you look beyond the surface.
But here’s a question that cuts through the noise:
If climate change is truly the greatest threat of our time — why is nuclear energy off the table?
The Illogic of Exclusion
Let’s be clear: this isn’t a claim that man-made climate change is a hoax. It’s a genuine question asked by people who are thinking critically.
If we accept — as the Australian Government insists — that we are heading toward climate catastrophe, then logic dictates we pursue the most effective, scalable, zero-emissions energy source available.
That source is nuclear. It produces reliable baseload power, emits no carbon during operation, and is already proven at scale in countries like France and Sweden. The new generation of Small Modular Reactors (SMRs) promises even greater safety, flexibility, and speed to deploy.
And yet… in Australia, nuclear remains banned under federal law. No roadmap. No parliamentary urgency. No “wartime footing” declarations like we’ve seen during the COVID response or other national initiatives. Just a hard “no” — while wind farms are subsidised, solar panels are mandated, and billions flow into battery storage schemes that still fall short on reliability and lifespan.
Valid Concerns — and Real Progress
Scepticism toward nuclear energy isn’t unfounded. Events like Chernobyl (1986) and Fukushima (2011) left deep scars in public memory. The fear of catastrophic meltdowns, radioactive waste, and long-term contamination was — and in some cases still is — legitimate.
But here’s what’s changed:
Modern reactor designs — especially Generation III+ and emerging SMRs (Small Modular Reactors) — are built with passive safety features that prevent overheating even in total power loss.
Waste reprocessing and advanced storage methods have made nuclear by-products more manageable than ever before.
Countries like France, South Korea, and Canada have run nuclear programs for decades with excellent safety records.
Today, you’re more likely to be harmed by a solar panel installer falling off a roof than by a modern nuclear plant failure. That’s not rhetoric — that’s what the statistics say.
In fact, per terawatt hour of energy produced, nuclear has one of the lowest death rates of all energy sources — far safer than coal and oil.
Yet despite these advancements, many governments continue to ban or sideline nuclear while pouring billions into technologies that can’t operate independently or consistently. That decision isn’t rooted in science — it’s rooted in politics, optics, and in some cases, outdated fear.
The Cost of Intermittency
But here’s what often gets left out of the conversation: intermittent energy has hidden costs — and they’re not just financial.
When the grid relies heavily on wind and solar, every lull in sunshine or dip in wind speed becomes a problem. That’s why governments are forced to overbuild renewables and double down on expensive backup systems — gas generators, giant batteries, even diesel generators in some cases. And who pays for this redundancy? You do — through your power bills and your taxes.
There’s also the issue of grid instability. The more intermittent sources you plug in, the more volatile the energy supply becomes. Engineers have warned for years: without consistent baseload generation, grid blackouts aren’t a risk — they’re a matter of time.
Let’s not forget the land footprint either. To match the output of a single nuclear plant, you’d need thousands of acres of solar panels or hundreds of wind turbines — sprawling across farmland, forests, and coastlines. Ironically, many of the same voices who oppose land clearing for housing developments cheer on solar farms that flatten native bushland.
And finally, there’s end-of-life disposal. Wind turbine blades, for example, are notoriously difficult to recycle and are already piling up in landfills. Solar panels contain toxic elements like cadmium and lead, and their disposal cost is rarely factored into headline figures.
Nuclear, for all its baggage, solves many of these issues. And yet, it’s treated like a taboo.
Selective Urgency
Governments around the world have shown what urgency truly looks like — just not when it comes to energy reform. They’ve proven they can act fast, decisively, and without red tape when it's in their political interest.
During the pandemic, public health orders were drafted overnight. Billions were deployed with minimal oversight. State premiers held daily press conferences like generals at war. Fear justified immediate action.
Now contrast that to the climate narrative — which we’re told is even more dire. The existential threat of our time. Sea levels rising. Ecosystems collapsing. A countdown to catastrophe.
So where’s the urgency?
Why no midnight legislation for nuclear? Why no fast-tracking of modern energy projects that actually meet the zero-emission criteria? Why no national cabinet meeting dedicated to baseload energy security?
Instead, we see padded timelines, endless consultations, and performative gestures — like net-zero targets with no viable engine behind them. It feels less like a crisis response, and more like a funding model with a PR team.
But when it comes to the one thing that could actually solve their own stated climate goals — nuclear energy — suddenly the same government becomes cautious, bureaucratic, and ideologically paralysed.
This contradiction isn’t a conspiracy. It’s a red flag. And it justifies healthy, rational scepticism.
Follow the Money, Not Just the Climate Science
When governments behave inconsistently, the wise ask: who benefits?
There is a staggering amount of money tied to the “green transition.”
Wind turbines, solar panels, and lithium batteries all require ongoing replacement cycles.
Carbon markets, ESG funds, and “green tech” subsidies create entire financial ecosystems that thrive on endless transition, not permanence.
China dominates the manufacturing of solar panels, rare earth minerals, and battery components — giving it massive leverage in a world racing to “decarbonise” without resilience.
In contrast, nuclear energy:
Requires less land and fewer materials over its life cycle.
Runs for decades on a single construction.
Doesn’t generate ongoing revenue through carbon credits or renewable certificates.
Threatens vested financial interests built on high churn and permanent transition.
So yes — there is a strong financial incentive to push a narrow narrative. One that promotes a never-ending green revolution, rather than a stable and sovereign energy solution.
Sea Level Rise — But Where?
Note: Sea level data referenced here is accurate as of 2023. Tidal gauges and satellite measurements vary by region and should be interpreted within geological and local environmental context.
Other locations tell a similar story. For example:
The Battery, New York City — one of the most closely watched tide gauges in the U.S. — shows a sea level rise trend of about 2.9 mm per year, but that includes land subsidence from historical groundwater pumping and infrastructure weight. When adjusted for land movement, the rate of ocean rise is far less dramatic.
Tuvalu and Kiribati, island nations often cited as disappearing due to rising seas, have shown net land growth in certain areas due to sediment deposition and reef resilience. Some research even found shoreline expansion over recent decades.
Stockholm, Sweden shows sea level falling — not rising — due to post-glacial land rebound, a natural process where the Earth’s crust lifts after being compressed by ancient glaciers.
These aren't cherry-picked anomalies. They’re reminders that local sea level change is influenced by complex factors, including land movement, sedimentation, ocean currents, and tectonic shifts. Yet we’re often presented with a single global number, stripped of nuance and context.
When the rhetoric says “rising seas will swallow us,” but the oldest gauges and real-world coastlines don’t show that urgency, it’s fair — even necessary — to look closer.
100 Billion Tonnes and Counting
Here’s another paradox the climate narrative seems to ignore:
Between 2021 and 2023, Antarctica experienced an unexpected net ice mass gain of roughly 108 billion tonnes per year — notably in East Antarctica’s Wilkes Land–Queen Mary Land region.
What does that mean?
That gain temporarily offset sea level rise by about 0.30 mm per year during that period.
The gain appears linked to anomalously heavy snowfall — not long-term cooling.
This reversal follows decades of Antarctic ice loss, but it still doesn’t match the climate reporting tone of imminent melting and catastrophes across poles.
Yes, global ice loss continues overall — Greenland and West Antarctica are still net losers, and Arctic sea ice remains at record lows. But the media and policy narrative rarely mention that Antarctica’s ice sheet temporarily reversed course — despite a massive rebound of over 100 billion tonnes per year, based on satellite gravimetry estimates from ESA CryoSat and NASA GRACE missions.
When Solutions Are Suppressed
Innovation is often sacrificed not because it doesn’t work — but because it works too well for the wrong people.
In Ayn Rand’s Atlas Shrugged, society slowly unravels as those who invent and build are punished or ignored in favour of politically protected, inefficient enterprises. Innovation is stalled by bureaucrats, and viable technologies are rejected to preserve power structures.
This is strikingly familiar in today’s climate conversation:
Nuclear power, with its unmatched reliability and zero-emission profile, is demonised or banned, while less effective technologies receive endless subsidies.
Energy independence through domestic uranium and advanced reactors is ignored, even as countries become reliant on foreign solar, wind, and battery imports.
Real-world engineers, tradespeople, and workers who question policy direction are dismissed, while polished narratives dominate.
When effective technologies are actively suppressed or sidelined, and when the best tools are banned for optics — not science — we’re no longer having an environmental conversation. We’re watching a political and financial system protect itself.
Rand’s warning wasn’t that collapse comes suddenly — it comes quietly, through layers of contradiction and the silencing of reason.
So no, this isn’t a call for rebellion. It’s a call to think.
Because when the loudest voices refuse the best answers, those asking questions aren’t the problem — they’re the last line of reason.
This Isn’t Denial — It’s Due Diligence
For further reading or validation, readers are encouraged to review tide gauge records (e.g., Fort Denison), global satellite datasets (e.g., NASA/NOAA sea level monitoring), and peer-reviewed publications on glacial mass balance.
Let me be clear: I’m not claiming to be an expert in climate science. I’m not a physicist, a glaciologist, or an atmospheric chemist.
I’m a fisherman. I work on the water. I see the coastline. I pay attention to tides, wind, temperature, and conditions — not because it’s trendy, but because it’s my livelihood. I don’t have the luxury of theory — I deal in what’s real.
And if the COVID period taught us anything, it’s this:
Just because someone is called an “expert” doesn’t mean they’re neutral. Sometimes, what’s driving them matters more than what they’re saying.
During COVID, we watched as experts:
Changed positions overnight
Disregarded dissenting views
Were later revealed to have political or financial incentives influencing their recommendations
That wasn’t science. That was narrative management — and it left a lot of people rightly sceptical.
Now we’re being told the climate crisis is the next great emergency. But once again:
The data is often selective
The "solutions" don’t line up with the supposed threat
And the only constant is the torrent of money and influence that shapes the story
Conclusion
So no — I’m not here to tell you the climate isn’t changing. I’m not denying that human activity may play a role. But I am saying this:
When the people yelling “crisis” refuse to consider the most reliable zero-emission energy source we have, while pumping billions into intermittent technology that fails on basic metrics…When they ignore tide gauge records in their own harbours, or ice mass gains that don’t fit the storyline…And when the loudest voices all seem to orbit around money, ideology, or political control…
You’d be a fool not to ask questions.
This isn’t denial. It’s not even rebellion. It’s responsible scepticism — the kind that every healthy society should encourage.
Because if truth can’t survive questions, it was never truth to begin with.