What is it like to live with wind turbines as close as 600 metres from your home? These people know

They see the turbines from their kitchen windows, on their way to work, or at the beach.

Energy installations that generate electricity are a constant presence in the lives of people in Orkney.

Neil Gordon Davey studied everyday life close to such energy installations as part of his PhD at OsloMet. He used cameras and photography in his research.

Davey shows that people do not only hold opinions about turbines and other energy infrastructure; they live with them, interpret them, and adapt to them in different ways.

We often adapt in our own unique ways

“Energy development is nuanced and highly place-specific,” Davey emphasises, noting that people are adaptable.

Some find practical meaning in it: turbine blades become weather indicators and landmarks. A quick glance at the direction of rotation tells you where the wind and the next rain shower are coming from.

Others give the turbines personality: they get names, are described as neighbours, or treated as something to be balanced within one’s garden and the view.

The body can be involved too: participants swam on their back in time with the turning blades. This demonstrates how infrastructure becomes a lived experience, not just something to look at.

Three types of responses

Davey introduces three different types of responses as a language for capturing the diversity of experiences:

1. Environmental responses: how wind turbines and other energy infrastructure fit into the landscape, and how lighting and placement affect what we see. How people adjust their routines and the way they look at their surroundings.

2. Emotional responses: pride, hope, irritation, sadness, often at the same time. Meaning is not fixed. It is created through these repeated encounters.

3. Embodied responses: physical practices and orientation, from swimming and walking to using turbines as visual anchors in the landscape.

What does the proximity mean?

Large turbines have been erected as close as 600 metres from people’s homes. This means they are close enough to be visible almost constantly to the people who live there.

From the island of Sanday, Davey describes how the red aviation lights affect the view at night:

“It can be very disconcerting. Beautiful vistas are suddenly crossed by red lines, almost like a strobe effect, over the water and right up into the garden. It feels as if it is coming into the house,” he says.

Findings from Orkney show that people develop their own, often creative strategies for coexisting with the installations. But they also raise the question of who should adapt to whom.

Should such installations be placed close to where people live, with the burdens that may entail? Or should planning, design, and distribution models be changed so that the burdens are reduced and the benefits shared more fairly?

Justice out of sight

Orkney is often portrayed as a green frontrunner, with highly visible energy production. But locals often see limited benefits from the installations, have few opportunities to influence decisions, and continue to experience high levels of fuel poverty.

People often cannot afford better energy provision. They have to spend a disproportionate share of their income on lighting and heating.

“If Orkney gets more turbines and other energy infrastructure that people see every day, something needs to be done about the benefits to the local community," says Davey.

Many live in older, draughty homes, and are dependent on expensive gas or electricity. Energy prices on the islands are high.

"I sat with people who were pouring buckets of coal into their fireplaces, and others chopping wood on the kitchen floor because it was too wet outside, with a view of five turbines that could potentially generate enough electricity for up to 10,000 homes on an island with 500 inhabitants,” the researcher says.

“Many would call that an injustice,” Davey adds.

Using the camera as a conversation starter

Residents documented their own encounters with energy installations and shared photographs and reflections with the researcher.

“The visual element triggers conversations and emotions. When we look at the participants’ photographs, they can immediately return to how they felt at that moment, something standard interviews often miss,” says Davey.

He adds that current visual impact assessments are often carried out from selected vantage points, not from the living-room window, the kitchen, the commuter route, or the beach where people walk with their dogs.

Davey argues that such experiences should be included in the methods used.

Could this be relevant in Norway?

Debates about wind power, power lines, and solar farms often focus on kilowatt-hours, impacts on the natural environment, and regulation.

Davey’s research shows that the transition is also cultural, sensory, and social.

“The most important thing we can do differently in planning is to integrate experiential methods that start from what people actually see, feel, and do in their everyday lives much earlier, and to continue with that throughout the whole process,” he says.

He adds that if measures do in fact reduce energy costs, people are more willing to accept them.

How can greater consideration be given to residents?

How, then, can greater consideration be given to people who live nearby, and how can they be given opportunities to influence decisions?

Davey highlights the following:

• Use images actively in public participation: Let residents document their own landscapes before, during, and after development, and discuss solutions based on these images.

• Take the visual aspects of everyday life seriously: Do not only consider whether something looks good or bad, but how the installation is encountered through routines, movement, and identity.

• Local energy justice: Link visible interventions to concrete local benefits such as ownership, value and measures, and show how these can be distributed locally.

• Work on siting, axes, lighting, and sightlines in close dialogue with those who live nearest.

• Shared spaces for interpretation can help: Public exhibitions, audio-visual storytelling, or guided walks through the landscape can build mutual understanding and trust.

Reference:

Davey, N.G. Altered landscapes of a post-carbon future. Exploring local stakeholder experiences and the visuality of energy development on the Orkney Islands, Doctoral thesis at OsloMet, 2026.

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Read the Norwegian version of this article on forskning.no

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