When the North Sea first gave up its oil, it promised prosperity. For decades, the industry has delivered that promise to shareholders but increasingly, residents of the coastline are counting a different cost. This week's revelation that Shell continued pumping oil for years despite internal evidence of environmental damage is less a scandal than a culmination. The UK's offshore regulator, the Oil and Gas Authority (OGA), now faces pointed questions about its role in this system of delayed accountability.
At the heart of the report is a simple, damning fact: Shell knew. Internal documents show the company was aware that its operations were causing significant pollution to the surrounding marine environment. Yet production continued. The OGA, tasked with overseeing the industry, appears to have been either unwilling or unable to intervene. For those who live in the affected areas, this is not news. They have watched the gradual decline of fish stocks, the strange oil slicks after storms, and the quiet reticence of officials.
The human cost is stark. Fishing communities in places like Peterhead and Lerwick have seen their livelihoods shrink. 'We knew something was wrong,' one fisherman told me. 'But when you try to ask questions, you get brushed off.' The cultural shift here is a slow erosion of trust. For years, the oil industry was seen as a benevolent giant, providing jobs and funding public services. Now, it is increasingly viewed as a reckless neighbour, indifferent to the damage left behind.
The OGA's position is precarious. Created in 2015 to maximise economic recovery from the UK's oil and gas reserves, its mandate often seems at odds with environmental stewardship. Critics argue that the watchdog has prioritised production over protection. The question now is whether it can reform itself or if a new, more independent body is needed. Meanwhile, Shell's public commitment to net-zero emissions rings hollow when weighed against its past behaviour.
This story is not unique to Shell or the UK. It reflects a global pattern where extractive industries operate with impunity until the evidence becomes undeniable. The difference here is the scale of the deception. For years, the company had the data; the regulator had the authority. Both failed to act. The broader lesson for society is uncomfortable: our systems of oversight are only as good as the will to enforce them. As the climate crisis deepens, such revelations are a reminder that change must come not just from technology, but from accountability. The people of the coast have known that for years. It is time the rest of us listened.
