<Prefer to listen – you can hear a recording of me, inexpertly reading these words below>

 

I

 National Parks in the UK emerged from working class struggle,

I know that might seem strange, especially now, when the word National Park seems to be synonymous, with white middle class privilege.

A memory comes to mind,  a one time CEO of a prominent English National Park telling the Guardian that his visitor profile was hideously white and hideously middle class, there was some backlash,  although for those of us working on the inside, an uneasy truth was exposed.

It wasn’t always that way though.

Once visiting countryside (later to become National Parks or National Landscapes for a  ‘ramble’ was a radical act.

In post millennial understandings, where it is the extremity of the pursuit that seems to grab the attention, the phrase to ramble feels on a completely different end of the spectrum –  a bit comical – the sort of thing genteel pipe smoking men in flat caps and tweed breeches did in Enid Blighton novels.  Nothing extreme about a ramble.  I have to admit that there is a bit of me that had absorbed that perception too.  As a outdoor enthusiasts of the Trail generation,  I would have scoffed at rambling as radical, or in anyway political. A ramble was the sort of thing you had to do when you were injured and couldn’t climb, or you were reluctantly having a rest day.

Rambling as a hobby was not going to get you a sponsorship deal with redbull, or secure your kudos as a radical outdoorsy type.  

But it might have once, 

Once going for a ramble politicised the working class providing a tangible form of resistance against social and economic inequalities

The story of the Kinder Trespass may be the best known of this action. Best known for the brutality, the harsh punishments handed out by the establishment to those ‘ramblers’ who were walking on the moor, for the ripples it sent through the nation to the eventual legislative change in the National Parks and Access to the countryside Act  that passed 17 years later.

But it was, in many ways the culmination of a growing conflict between those who had, and those who didn’t.

The Kinder Trespass took place in 1932, organised by a loose alliance of socialist and communist factions from the urbanised North.  Young men and women, politicised by their circumstances, who found release in affordable bus rides to the surrounding Pennines, or Peaks to spend a day walking in a countryside that felt like the antithesis of the industrialised world that made up their day to day.

It is a story I know from my parents, and their love for the English folk revival.  One song that seemed always to be playing on the squeaky tapedeck of our musty aged camper van was Ewan MacColl’s Manchester Rambler.

The song, considered to be one of MacColl’s finest, starts as a kind of love song to the open hill.  MacColl Recounts his travels across the Uk,

‘I’ve been over Snowdon, I’ve slept upon Crowdon
I’ve camped by the Waynestones as well
I’ve sunbathed on Kinder, been burned to a cinder
And many more things I can tell,’ 

The chorus, true to genre, is a catchy refrain that, despite your inner cool, you find yourself singing along to by about the second time of hearing it.  Genuinely its earworming its way into my head right now, apologies if its doing the same to you too. In memory, I cringe with the recollection, the four of us, mum, dad, sister, me, singing in tuneless harmony as our plum red bedford van chugged its way across the welsh hills.

I’m a Rambler, I’m a rambler
From Manchester Way
I get all my pleasure the high moorland way
I may be a wage slave on Monday
But I am a free man on Sunday

The song then continues to retell the story of MacColl’s involvement in the Kinder trespass itself, how gamekeepers to quote MacColl with the teeth of of his fury bar access to the rambling congregation by barking at them ‘this land’s my masters’.  To which the rambler narrator stands ‘shaking his head’ and speaks the words that stuck with me the most to this day, no man has right to own the mountain.

The final verse seems as pertinent now as it was almost 100 years before, although sadly the wildlife referenced marks it out as belonging to another time.

So I’ll walk where I will over mountain and hill
And I’ll lie where the bracken is deep
I belong to the mountains, the clear running fountains
Where the grey rocks lie ragged and steep
I’ve seen the white hare in the gullys
And the curlew fly high overhead
And sooner than part from the mountains
I think I would rather be dead. 

National Park’s in the UK, are rightly proud of the egalitarian beginnings of their genesis.  It is a far cry from other international campaigns, which focused on the preservation of wilderness,  focused on the need to exclude people in the search of a pristine nature to survive. 

The UK did not follow this path, unlike in other nations the designation of National Parks did not mean compulsory purchasing of land, or clearance of communities from within their borders, they simply meant a recognition of the importance of access to open countryside to the nation.  The movement focused on restricting urbanisation, and promoting access, to quote Dame Fiona Reynolds, it was a fight for beauty.

In the UK the class and wealth divisions exposed within the fight to access the countryside, resonated within a far greater national and political awakening to fundamental inequity.   The emphasis on the basic right of every citizen to have fair access to natural beauty found common ground with similar campaigns born out of the economic depressions of the 1930s.  Campaigns focused on the right to good housing, education, food, welfare, health provision. 

As with all movements that shake up the status quo and bring about change it was crisis that created the space for decisive responses.  In this case, the Second World War and its aftermath which provided the pivotal moment through which such ideas could gain popular appeal within the electorate.  Blitz spirit, writ large.  As the Nation rebuilt itself after the war, the state began building a more equal society through various acts of parliament which would essentially create a network of universal basic services including the National Parks and Access to the Countryside Act.

Apologies if you know this already, if this is no new story, and you can (if you google) find versions of this story on the official websites and publications of all designated landscape official bodies and support groups.

There is a bit that keeps being left out though, not on purpose I’m sure, we just forget.

And that is ok I guess, its just as we find ourselves lurching towards the creation of more National Parks across Scotland, England and Wales, I think its time that we remembered. 

It’s hard to unpick in its entirety, and even though the myriad of words that follow attempt it, I’m not sure that I quite get down to the roots of it all, but its a start at thinking about the conversation that never happened.

 II

National Parks are national, that is they are designated in the national interest, to provide opportunities for greater understanding and enjoyment of these areas natural beauty and importance as landscapes of outstanding value –  Britain’s breathing spaces  to quote a one time marketing campaign for designated landscapes.

A National Resource for nature and people, replete with managing authorities created to ensure that the area within the Park’s boundaries uphold this ethos.

Only the slight flaw in this plan, this national resource has been created from mostly privately owned land over which such authorities have very limited powers.

This is the point right, the plucky working man standing up to the lord of the manor.

Only maybe that isn’t the entirety of the whole truth.  Whereas we may be able to recognise that there was a fundamental inequity in the restriction of access to vast sways of moorland because a lord of the manor didn’t want the grouse he was rearing to shoot for fun to be disturbed before they were driven by dogs to be blasted out of the sky by him and a bunch of his friends – the inequity is less clear -for the majority – most of such areas that were designated for the peoples enjoyment – especially in the marginal uplands which dominate National Park landscapes – were actually small family farms, managed mostly on a subsistence basis for food production, handed down from generation to generation, the good v’s evil trope feels to fall spectacularly short.

The British government, may not have cleared indigenous communities from within their designated lines as was seen in Yosemite and Yellowstone, but there was in the designating committees that defined the final boundary line, a power imbalance that worked a different kind of subliminal imperialism.  The England and Wales, designation boards, we know consulted on detail rather than involved proactive discussion on principle. One history of the National Park movement described the passing of designation into law as the day the ‘Peak District opened its gates.’  A strange but pervasive view of the reality of National Parks because there are no gates to open, no ribbons to cut.  The change was more subtle.  A shift in power dynamics in these areas, a shift, which if we had stopped to think it through more clearly, we may have seen a deeper folk memory bubbling to the surface, of earlier moments of enclosure, of taking of land by those in power for the benefit of someone other.  

In the process of designation, which was clearly a top down imposition, an uneasy tension developed, a tension between two perspectives of the countryside.  Perspectives  formed at one end of the divide  from the outside looking in. A perception based on form not function, which saw in these areas vast natural spaces so precious they must stay just as they are.  At the other end there were those whose lives looked out from this land, who saw the productive function of the the green fields and valleys, the product of their and their families before them hard graft, their sustenance and their livelihood.

The positions polarised.  

It became a dualistic narrative: urban associated with progress, innovation, technology, civilization, knowledge creation. The country, provincial, conservative, simple, insular, a culture dependent on others to patronise it for the best outcome. 

Just like the town and country mice of children’s story, neither understood each others world enough to survive.

III

I’m simplifying of course.

The point is that once upon a time National Parks were created for the best of reasons, but the wrong that was supposed to be righted in their creation, this great egalitarian legacy, was unwittingly and ironically perpetuated as people with power, determined a different purpose for the land of many marginalised people.

Here in Wales that connection felt by those who have for generations managed the land is visceral, it is something that is felt rather than known.  The entwined nature of a relationship of people and land, is difficult to quantify, and those far more expert than I, have written at length about this relationship. We have words like Cynefin and Hiraeth, all without direct translations that edge at it.  Suffice to say that many of the farmers within the boundaries of Welsh National Parks, had far more in common with the values and sentiments of MacColl’s Rambler than the Master the song rails against.  I think of the words in that final verse, ‘I belong to the mountains…and sooner than part from the mountains/I think I would rather be dead’ and I think not only of my own relationship to this land, but also those who I have met on farm, who talk of the land as if it actually owns them, that they serve it.

But…

In the process of designation assumptions of universal benefit guided decisions. And that created a tension with those who previously had concerned themselves with private interests.   From where I stand, a veteran of National Park policy making, it is this tension which frames the collective memory of those generations of traditional farmers and until its addressed we are stuck in a culture war that will destroy us.

It was a  tension I had encountered  many times before but I’d pushed to the margins in that dismissive way some of us have when we encounter ideas that run contrary to our own – my immediate family loved and enjoyed the access to the countryside National Parks and Designated Landscapes offered us (the urbanised) My paternal Grandfather (rural) had very different views however.  Ivor Ronald born on Gower at the beginning of the 20th Century and apart from a stint in the second world war, it was  on Gower he remained his entire life, finding a wife, raising a family.  When I think of Ivor Ronald, I think of a man so deeply rooted to that lime grey peninsula that it felt that his very being was formed of the wind swept salt earth of that sea blown world.  He was vehemently and vocally against ‘those fascists’ of the Gower Society, whom he blamed for the designation of his ‘pridd’ (earth) as an Area of Outstanding Natural Beauty (AONB), allowing the ‘Saes’ (English) to tell us what to do with our land although what bloody right it was of theirs god only knows’ and so he would go on, muttering in Welsh to himself which only the stones understood.

To me this was a generational thing, another example of the gulf of time between us both, a bit like his view on my mother going out to work, or my father’s beard and jeans, as monoglot English speaking, city dwelling Welsh girl, I quite literally could only understood half of what he’d said.  

Only now, after a lifetime spent working for these designated places can I understand why Ivor Ronald felt the way he did.  He felt betrayed. He felt like all his life he’d loved that land that was his home, only to find that someone else thought he didn’t love it enough, that he wasn’t capable of understanding how it needed to be cared for, and so they took the option away from him.  I see that same look that Ivor Ronald had when he spoke about the Gower Society in the eyes of  land managers when I do ‘engagement’ events for this or that policy proposal that I have developed which I think will be in the best interest of the park.  It is a reaction to the arrogance of my kind, resentment of long term injustice felt in the bones for 70 years and more.

It plays out in the governance structures of the Park, which, comprised of a mixture of minority ‘expert appointees’ and majority ‘local councillors’ find themselves at the heart of this polarising tension. Despite, these boards having strict protocol for decision making to favour the national value of such landscapes, often local councillors push against this, and decision making gets mired in an overcompensating belligerence towards the aims of National Parks in general.

I get it, I mean, I understand its origins, resentment of the National Park baked in to your communities metanarrative will influence decision making whether consciously or (as I suspect) subconsciously. 

What is clear in the messed up relationship between local and national interests that play out in NPAs up and down the country, two wrongs do not make a right!

IV

And so its no surprise that proposals for new National Parks across the UK are now meeting such strong opposition from the farming community. I know that the government bodies with limited resource, and stretched budgets, are doing the best they have with what they have available to them to ensure that this designation happens differently.   But, from what I can see in the press, and in the responses to that consultation, the process for designation seems at its heart an age old process which despite attempts to improvement, is not seem up to the job of ensuring co-production of what a 21st century park means to those managing them.

And if we take that concept of disempowerment further, it becomes no surprise that  Welsh Government proposals for 10% of land to be planted for trees turned so toxic so quickly fuelled by mistrust of a system that historically has not landed on the side of the small farmer.

And even more Its no surprise that any budget with proposed changes to farming inheritance tax relief would create such a crisis of relationship between rural and urban communities.  It’s no wonder that the farming community have had enough, closing ranks, disengaging on almost all matters, sick of being told what to do.   Their worth seen in monetary terms alone, not the heritage, not the stewardship, not the fact that most family farms may be worth millions on paper, but the business brings in less than minimum wage to the farmer.  Not surprised that the thought of selling land that is tied up in their identity to cover the shortfall for HMRC an unthinkable disaster,  like giving up one of your own kin, your name, your pridd, cynefin, there’s Ewan MacColl in my head again, ‘I’d rather be dead’.  

In the most recent farming account reports for Wales, what is clear, is most farmers and farm businesses exist on a commercial knife edge. Pushed by subsidy systems for years to farm in one way, or another, to be more productive one year, more environmentally friendly the next.  Whilst each year just trying to keep the farm afloat, to pay the wages, to keep the lights on.  Enslaving themselves to whatever the trend is from one government to the next. 

If the history of National Parks has taught us anything, it is the fight between those with power, and those without, that can politicise the underclass.  And its not just happy folk songs about rambling in the countryside that tell that story.  Every swing from centre to extreme right or left has started this way. 

But we are not done here, because there is an assumption amongst those in power, that these designated landscapes will not only provide recreation space for the nation but also the majority of the UKs contribution to the 30×30 commitment.  That is that we will meet our obligations against the Montreal agreement to recover biodiversity through our network of protected sites.  Which is both amazing commitment, but like how is that actually going to happen?

As I think on this, I can’t help getting stuck on first principles, has anyone asked the people who actually control designated landscapes how they see this working?  And here let me be clear, I know that there are government backed forums with policy makers, and eNGOs –  I mean the men and women whose land is now being earmarked in this way.  Has anyone listened clearly to how this plays out for them?  AND AGAIN I don’t mean, held a workshop, or sent out a questionnaire, or sent a policy document to comment on.

Has anyone thought to ask directly, how does this work now? What would work for you? and been willing to be open to really hearing the answer? And to trust to sharing power. 

V

In the environmental world, we often talk about the need for long term system change in order to secure the survival of the natural processes upon which people depend. I myself am a persistent advocate of Kate Raworth’s Doughnut Economics as underpinning compass to action, she in turn was in part inspired by Donella Meadows lead author of The Limits of Growth.  This duo make it into every pitch, every talk, presentation or workshop I ever deliver, everything I know I can relate back to the common sense wisdom they provide in spades.  One slide that makes a well worn appearance in everything I have to say, is an extract from a paper written by Meadows. It tells of a time when she was so incensed at listening to a room full of men in suits (as she described it) over complicate and completely miss the point of her life’s work that she apparently felt the need to get up from her seat at a board table, stride over to the front of the room, commandeer the flip chart and pen from the man leading the meeting, and start to write down (in order of increasing efficacy) the mechanisms by which effective systems change occurs.

I think the shock may be implied that she should have just known her place and stayed quiet, but the amazement, was in the simple wisdom that this act imparted.  Because she clearly identified that the tools that we usually use, the laws, the subsidies, the rules, the policies, are amongst the  least effective place to act to bring about lasting change.  Instead what she identifies, is that system change is dependent upon shifting the values, the mindset out of which the system arises.  This point she argues is the point at which new paradigms will arise.

Its powerful stuff.

And I use it to impart a message that our aim should always be to work at the level of the values of the system.  What I have for years implied in this, is that our (my) mission should be one of persuasion, to find the right argument, or evidence or framing to change the mindset of the agricultural community to (A) believing that being in a National Park is beneficial, and (B) that acting to restore nature should be a principle motivator.

Lately I have been pondering this position.  Critically evaluating the extent to which this view exemplifies that new imperialism of the so-called expert. What right have I to suggest that everyone else who doesn’t think like me is operating from a different set of values. 

When I think about it, the more I think that most farmers that I work with, are just doing the best with the resources (social, environmental, financial) they have at their disposal.  

Maybe then, this realisation, its not the values of my ‘stakeholder community’ I need to shift, but rather my own.  To reposition myself from ‘expert with an idea to persuade you to take up because my motivations are morally superior to yours’, to someone whose role is to listen, to empower these communities with the tools to learn for themselves, to trust the expertise that builds, to become an enabler of the actions that are borne from the bottom up.

Maybe I’m already falling back to my comfort zone in trying to even control this narrative here, maybe really the actual task is to understand what are the values our agricultural community need us as policy makers to embody if this is truly the shaping of a shared future for people and planet.  

I can hazard a guess on what the corner stone of those values might be, and from my experience it looks a lot like the building of trust and acceptance of each other as different not wrong. Of the letting go of power and control and the ego of the expert. Of an openness to learn from one another. To be curious about each others concerns and hopes and to value the diversity of  perspectives. 

In short it means co-design, where distributed power is the norm and with every voice of equal relevance to agreeing the outcomes. Yes it takes longer, yes it means that sometimes we mediate around best possible outcomes, but in the long term, it builds a community around a shared vision, and that feels like shifting values for the long game.

Years ago in developing Dyfodol Y Bannau we found that workshops that started with a grounding in expectations of behaviours ended up with more meaningful contributions in the long run. That’s when we defined ‘ways of being future be’ reproduced in part below as a starting point for discussions.  As I think about how you form a National Park that is truly of Wales for Wales, true to the founding egalitarian approach and values, this list of behaviours, this way of being, is becoming more and more present in my expectations of myself and the contributions I can make.

This is the person I want to show up as in the work I do for these landscapes I love.

I hope I’m not alone.

Be present
Be respectful
Be curious
Be open
Be constructive
Be playful.

Go ramble.