Energy is the comedy of the day. As it becomes increasingly precious and expensive, the wisecracks about candlelit evenings and bundles of firewood in the kitchen begin to sound rather weary. The laugh is in the anachronism of it all, yet I think there is something of a case to be made for firewood. My reason has little to do with rising sea levels, but rather with the relation between government and individual responsibility.

The 'nice' thing about firewood is that one has to work hard to transport and chop it. In many parts of the world, in fact, fetching firewood takes up most of the day. Logs are also knotty and tangible, and one can easily make the connection between supply and cost, and therefore between energy and individual responsibility. Not so electricity.

The provision of electrical energy is largely invisible. On one hand, we want our steady stream of electrons, on the other we feel that power stations and oil tankers should be hidden from view, as if they didn't exist. We want our homes and offices to be well lit, warm in winter, and cool in summer, yet we pay a class of people known as electricians to conceal the wires and fuseboxes.

The relation between the switch and the grid is buried away in walls and hidden behind paintings, and even a light bulb is thought to be 'naked' unless clothed in some elaborate shade. In sum, contemporary energy masks the processes of its own production.

With this in mind, it is easy to see why we find energy-saving so hard to stomach. Nor is the argument from pollution any more convincing.

The thing with pollution is that it's mostly stealthy, and it is only when a wind change deposits soot on our washing that we begin to suspect it really exists. As for the melting ice caps, chances are we won't be around to do the paddling.

My point is that, as it is, the system for the provision of energy discourages one from keeping an eye on consumption. Which is why I like the idea of insulation, solar panels and small backyard wind turbines: by shifting the process of energy production and conservation from distant power station to the home, these technologies foster a sense of individual responsibility.

But how about cost? Surely the energy bill is reminder enough of the cost of firewood, so to speak? Not necessarily. One might refer here to a wonderful article written by Russell Roberts for The Wall Street Journal in 1995. In If you're paying, I'll have top sirloin, Roberts presents a situation in which diners at a restaurant split the bill evenly.

When it's a small group and people know each other, it sort of pans out. Yes, the teetotallers might end up paying for their friends' wine, but etiquette requires the drinkers to go easy on the claret anyway, so as not to abuse their companions' commensal spirit. If, however, the diners multiply into a faceless crowd, there are no such qualms - the drinkers will tend to go for the finest nectar, simply because someone they don't know is effectively picking up the tab.

Roberts' point is that in a broadly socialist regime of government provision, the tendency is for some to overindulge at the expense of others.

As he puts it, "the only way to prevent national indigestion is to close the government restaurant where few benefit at the expense of many". In other words, people should be treated as consumers, rather than beneficiaries of government services.

With respect to energy bills, we have so far been part-consumers, part-beneficiaries. That is to say, what we pay is to some extent proportional to what we consume, but it is also hemmed into a system of subsidies. Yet again, there is a discrepancy between real and perceived cost; not only is energy invisible, it also feels cheaper.

Now, however, the government claims it is closing down the restaurant, and each of us will have to sort out his dining arrangements and foot his own bill. Which would be a good thing for our national digestion, save for a few snags.

The first is that there will still be only one restaurant, and the government will run it after all. Which summons the bizarre scenario of a restaurateur who will not take responsibility for the prices on the menu. Second, for all their asceticism, the teetotallers will scarcely save money, since it appears that the link between tax reductions and the removal of energy subsidies is neither straightforward nor symmetrical. So we'll pay higher bills, but we still won't save much on tax.

Finally, there is the lethal cocktail of mixed messages which I suspect is confusing people no end. So, even as we are told that driving a car is essentially wicked and should be punished ('disincentivised', unless it's a Jaguar), the government actively encourages, say, low-cost airlines.

It also urges us to shop and eat out more, presumably to fuel economic growth. In other words, it's alright to go to a restaurant on a Saturday night, as long as you get there by plane (aviation is a major pollution rogue, by the way.) It's equally alright to shop, as long as you do so by candlelight. As mad as it gets, really.

Which is what happens when government gets too heavy and deems it its business to dabble in too many things, thus paving the way for inconsistency. But, no matter, I've been keeping an eye on my nick of the afforestation project. I look forward to the day when I will take axe to trunk and carry home my own bundle.

mafalzon@hotmail.com