Meanwhile, in the land of Net Zero: A Cargo Ship with a Kite Pretends to Discover the Sail Again

Image by Martin Foskett / Knelstrom Media

By Martin Foskett | Dispatches | Knelstrom Media

​It seems civilisation has gone full circle, a modern marvel of "green technology" now involves tying a glorified kite to a cargo ship, as though Odysseus himself hadn't already nailed the trick three thousand years ago. A future of climate salvation, apparently, lies in rediscovering the bloody sail.

The year is 2025, and some bespectacled genius in a Brussels think tank has finally declared victory over the diesel engine. "We've cracked it," they announce, smug as a cat in a creamery. "Behold: a giant kite to drag our ships across the sea." And there it is, a cargo behemoth costing hundreds of millions of pounds, its engines throttled down to make way for a child's oversized birthday balloon, tethered to the bow like a dog being taken for a reluctant walk.

Astonishing. Revolutionary. World-saving.

Except, of course, the Phoenicians were already doing this before the alphabet was even finished. The Vikings, too, barrelling across the North Sea in longboats, not with a kite but a proud slab of cloth, the humble sail. The Greeks had entire empires puffed along by the wind, trading olive oil and philosophy, while some civil servant today is patting himself on the back for having "rediscovered wind propulsion." If irony could power ships, we'd be carbon neutral by Tuesday.

And yet, there's something beautiful about it. Humanity's great quest for Net Zero has marched us into the future only to deposit us back in the Bronze Age. Full circle, like a drunk staggering home by way of every bar in town. First, we built coal-fired engines; then, we developed oil-fed monsters; and finally, we created nuclear-powered submarines. And now? We're back to kites, sails, and probably a few blokes with oars if the carbon quotas get too tight.

I picture it now: the Port of Rotterdam in 2030. Container ships lined up like regimented elephants, each flying a bright nylon kite as though the International Maritime Organisation had suddenly declared "kite-flying hour." Serious-faced executives nodding gravely as they watch tonnage sail past like a giant school sports day.

The green activists will love it. "Look," they'll cry, "we're saving the planet!" Meanwhile, somewhere in the Aegean, the ghost of an ancient mariner will be spitting wine in disbelief.

Because this is what it's all about: not genuine progress, not human ingenuity, but the ceremonial repackaging of old tricks as innovations. Paint it with a fresh layer of eco-jargon and you can sell a wheel as a ground-breaking "circular locomotion device."

But who am I to argue? The engines belch less smoke, the seas stay cleaner, and the air tastes less like a diesel-soaked chip pan. This may be the way forward. Perhaps the answer to humanity's technological crisis has always been to go backwards, rummaging in the attic of history until you stumble on the dusty tools of forgotten civilisations.
​
The kite ship, they'll tell us, is progress. But progress, like politics, is nothing more than a carousel, spinning round and round until you're dizzy enough to forget you've seen it all before.