Ashalim, Israel — Don’t look directly, but it’s easier said than done. Driving through the crags and craters of the Negev Desert, you can’t miss it. A piercing light mounted on a plain gray tower over 800 feet high.this is visible from outer space.
This is the great solar tower of Ashalim, one of the tallest structures in Israel and until recently the tallest solar power station in the world.
“It’s like the sun,” said Eli Bariti, a shop owner in the nearest village. “Second Sun”.
To its supporters, the tower is a feat of engineering and a testament to Israel’s solar innovation. To critics, it’s costly stupidity, relying on obsolete technology by the time it’s operational.
For Bariti and the 750 or so residents of the nearby village of Ashalim, the tower is much more tangible. It’s an ever-present backdrop to their lives, a source of frustration, occasional affection, and even pride that evokes both anger and awe.
Sometimes it feels like a dystopian skyscraper looming ominously above the dairy cows and roosters across the road. The tower’s height prompts comparisons to the Tower of Babel, with its dazzling lights and burning bushes.
For some, it reminds me of something from JRR Tolkien’s Lord of the Rings.
“that is Eye of Sauron‘said engineer Ulya Sued, who lived in Asshalim until September.
Other times, the tower standing awkwardly on the edge of the group photo looks like a gaudy, gentle giant. You can forget it’s even there—to find it hovering, almost comically, apologetically, behind a garden wall or awkwardly over a swimmer in the village’s outdoor pool. to.
“It’s a lighthouse without an ocean,” said Ben Marca, who runs the pool.
“Sometimes it’s so beautiful,” said Ellandron, the area’s mayor.
Isaac Neal, co-founder of a local seed producer, said, “It’s absolutely disturbing.
Using energy from the sun, the tower will generate enough electricity to power tens of thousands of homes. Completed in 2019, the power plant shows both the promise and failure of Israel’s solar industry, and is a reminder of the unpredictable challenges that await a country seeking to switch from fossil fuels to renewable energy. It’s a case study.
Abandoned overnight, the tower begins the day with the first light of dawn as the nearby roosters begin their morning chorus.
At that moment, the sun hit a sea of over 50,000 mirrors strategically placed in the dunes surrounding the tower. The mirror reflects the light rays upwards, focusing them on a huge water boiler located within the tower’s turret.
The reflected sunlight creates an intense glare that dazzles anyone who looks directly into the water, heating it to over 1,000 degrees Fahrenheit and turning it into steam. In a process known as solar thermal power, steam is piped to the surface and turns turbines to produce electricity.
There are more than 25 similar towers around the world, including China, Spain and the United States, but only one towers over the United Arab Emirates.
To its champions, Ashalim Tower is a sophisticated pioneering effort that showcases the prowess of Israel’s solar energy experts.
“I’m very proud of it,” said Israel Kroizer, the engineer who oversaw the installation and configuration of the 50,000 mirrors. “This is a very complicated project.”
As part of this effort, millions of dollars were spent on Asshalim’s infrastructure, including roads and youth clubs. Funding was provided by Megalim Solar Power, a multinational consortium that builds and operates power plants. The project has also brought at least 70 new jobs to the remote and sometimes neglected area, boosting its economy, said his Doron, the area’s mayor.
“Good job and good salary,” added Delon. “Lemonade from lemons.”
Founded in the 1970s, Ashalim is a small village with few industries of its own. Some residents run guesthouses for tourists, but most work in nearby towns. It’s a Jewish village. Thousands of Bedouin Arabs live nearby, but mostly in poor towns, some not officially recognized by the government and not connected to the national power grid. I have.
During the tower’s construction, rumors abounded with As’halim about potential repercussions. Children were afraid that the turret would explode. Adults thought that Gaza militants would target it with rockets. Others worry unnecessarily that they will cause harmful radiation to the population.
“People thought it would give you cancer,” said Shachar Rubel, a teacher at Ashalim Kindergarten.
All these fears have turned out to be unfounded, and some, like Lebel, have come to appreciate the tower. For some residents returning home after a long journey, it has become a comfort roadster.
But a sense of dissatisfaction remained, even among those who otherwise strongly support green energy.
For many villagers who moved to Asshalim in search of the perfect desert landscape, it was quite the blot on the landscape.
“I’m a clean energy pro,” says Marca, who runs the pool. “But they chose to do it on the road by the village.”
“Maybe they could take it 50 miles into the desert,” he said.
The tower also regularly kills or burns birds that pass by, attracted by the light, villagers said. Similar phenomena have been reported for solar towers in other countries.
In the wider Israeli discourse, the tower has drawn particular criticism because its electricity has proven to be far more expensive than that produced by other forms of solar power technology.
Under a contract signed in 2014 between the government and the consortium that built the power plant, the two companies agreed to pay about $800 million in construction costs. In return, the government promised to buy the tower’s power for about 23 cents per kilowatt-hour, according to Israel’s power authority.
The price was considered fair at the time of bidding. But during construction, scientists made an unexpected improvement to a simpler form of solar power: photovoltaic panels that convert sunlight into electricity without the need for mirrors or water. And with these improvements, solar panels can now generate electricity at about one-fifth the cost of solar towers. Data released by the Israeli government.
In fact, solar panels were so profitable that Kroizer, the engineer who helped build the Ashalim site, left the solar thermal industry to run a company specializing in panels.
The Israeli government cut its losses and even considered abandoning construction of both the tower and a nearby project using solar thermal technology. I withdrew.
Israeli business newspaper Calcalist, a situation called “One of the saddest stories” in the history of Israeli infrastructure.
Others say the tower’s more expensive energy actually goes largely unnoticed by Israeli citizens because the higher costs are spread across millions of consumers in the national grid. .
For Yosef Abramowitz, a leading Israeli energy entrepreneur, the real problem with Israel’s solar sector is that it can supply only a small percentage of Israel’s energy needs during the climate crisis. In 2021 he is 5 minutes less than he is 1. according to government records.
“Ashalim is a great example of Israeli climate innovation,” said Abramowitz, who has led the installation of large-scale solar power plants elsewhere in Israel.
“But it’s not about Israeli energy,” he added. “Israel’s energy story is that it’s a villain when it comes to climate.”
That national debate has little everyday relevance to many Ashalim residents. But it put them on the map and even made them a little proud.
“Everyone in this country is talking about it,” said teacher Ms. Lebel. “And I say: I live next door!”
Carol Sutherland, Jonathan Rosen, and Myra Novek contributed to the research.