THERE are two Aberdeens. The first is that which breaks out into the wider British news with some frequency, the self-professed “oil capital of Europe,” the “silver city with the golden sands,” a strange international enclave of students and oil technicians, tucked away in a far corner of Scotland.

The other Aberdeen appears as any one of hundreds of similar towns and cities failed by the bourgeois state. It is an Aberdeen of crumbling tenements and neglected streets, of unemployment and unemployability, a city that has never felt like one with a future, even years before that of the oil industry was called into doubt.

Despite talk of Just Transitions and “no ban without a plan,” we must still work to build a better future both for Aberdeen, and for all Aberdonians.

On the northern edge of Aberdeen, by the river Don, amid sprawling post-war council estates, helicopters thunder overhead at regular intervals, travelling between Britain’s busiest heliport in Dyce and oil rigs as far north as Shetland. These, and the sight of the ubiquitous supply vessels out at sea, can feel like the only indication of the vast oil wealth flowing through the city.

On the southern edge, south of the river Dee, stands Torry, almost a town in its own right. In contrast with the north, Torry shows every scar of the oil industry, yet sees just as little of the profits.

Once at the centre of Aberdeen’s herring fishery, which employed thousands, its decline in the 1960s and the subsequent rise of oil as the aquatic resource of choice expedited the industrial development of the Dee estuary, pushing communities inland.

Today, Torry is, on two sides, bounded by a system of steel fences and security measures, beyond which lies a sprawl of storage, maintenance and processing apparatuses. What remains of Torry is a sorry reflection of its past prosperity; granite tenements sit in disrepair, unemployment is higher and life expectancy lower than elsewhere in Aberdeen.

This onslaught shows no sign of diminishing; despite outcry across the city, St Fittick’s Park, the only park in Torry, is slated for destruction to enable its replacement with a planned “energy transition zone,” posited as central to the city’s economy once the oil dries up. It may be a transition, but it is far from just.

The aforementioned collapse of the herring industry and subsequent economic devastation should serve as both a warning and a guide to navigating the departure of oil from Aberdeen.

While some in the city will still reminisce on the days of the fishery, its decline, in hindsight, was the inevitable consequence of finite fish stocks that could not replenish themselves at the same rate they were exploited.

The money, too, though better distributed among the locals, was still meagre, and for dangerous, gruelling work, whether spending weeks at sea on trawlers or gutting and processing an endless stream of fish.

The parallels to the oil industry are obvious. Though nowadays much safer, in no small part due to vigorous efforts on the part of trade unions since the Piper Alpha disaster in 1988 claimed the lives of 167 workers, work offshore is still tough.

With tight living quarters and extended separation from friends and family, a much larger pay cheque compared to onshore work remains the primary motivator.

Much like the herring, too, oil is a finite resource, and the difficulty of extracting it from beneath the North Sea only decreases the viability of its exploitation. This is, of course, without ever touching on the global ecological devastation unfolding before us, with fossil fuels the prime culprit.

For all the talk of “no ban without a plan,” then, it is clear that a ban, if not mere obsolescence, is coming for British oil, plan or no plan.

Our focus must therefore be on this plan, on ensuring that this foundational economic transition truly is just, not only for those workers directly involved in the industry but also for the communities on the periphery, affected and neglected. Both Aberdeen and the rest of Britain must have a plan for what comes next, lest the consequences of the collapse of the herring industry repeat themselves.

Aberdeen’s future is still far from certain. It has for centuries served as a hub for its vast hinterland region, stretching all the way to the Cairngorms on the eastern periphery of the Highlands. Aside from road development serving commuters from new-build suburbs, though, the region’s transport infrastructure is woefully underdeveloped.

The impoverished Aberdeenshire coastal towns of Peterhead and Fraserburgh, with populations of 19,000 and 13,000 respectively, are the two farthest towns from a railway station in the entirety of Britain.

A number of smaller settlements inland remain similarly isolated, despite economies built around tourism. If the region as a whole is to pivot in this direction, as Aberdeen seems to be attempting, proper preparations must be made now.

Our infrastructure is in dire need of investment and we need to ensure the wellbeing of local workers lest we go the way of Edinburgh, working poorly paid service jobs while being priced out of our own houses. Recent plans to levy a tourist tax could be promising, but we must go further and construct a comprehensive plan to ensure the best outcome for everybody.

Much has been said, too, of Aberdeen’s potential as a hub of renewable energy, especially for Scotland’s vast wind farms, both extant and planned.

With the city’s current infrastructure and skills, this may prove a smooth transition, and the recent announcement that the Labour government will situate the headquarters of its planned GB Energy here suggests that this direction is one in which we’re already moving.

Yet such developments have been met with ambivalence from many in the city. Without efforts to involve locals in the new opportunities created and precautions to protect our communities, there is a sense that this will just be another oil industry.

Petroleum or wind, external economic interests will continue to demolish chunks of our city while helicopters thunder above us and supply boats strike out to sea, always in earshot and sight but forever out of our reach.

What comes next for the people of Aberdeen, then? In a worst-case scenario in which the oil dries up and nothing comes to replace it, many of the industry’s skilled workers will have ample opportunity to move on to greener pastures, leaving behind a city more impoverished than ever, scarred and abandoned.

While Unite is taking the lead on this issue, addressing the TUC Congress with demands for a “comprehensive climate strategy” with “upskilling, education and training,” this campaign must take our whole community into account as it develops, lest it leave behind the rest of the city.

If Aberdeen is to benefit from a Just Transition, working people from across the city, regardless of industry, need to unite to build that future. Aberdeen is a curious place that we are proud to call ours.

Many who come here for work or study fall in love with the city and make this their permanent home. The hope for us all is that we can continue to live in this odd, dreich, beautiful corner of Scotland and see it thrive in a truly just, equitable way.