A revealing fuss about forests

FOR many commentators, Wednesday's prime minister's question time brought final proof that the government is in trouble over its proposal to privatise England's state-owned woods and forests. Many detected a whiff of panic, if not an imminent about-turn, when David Cameron said he was "listening to all the arguments in this case." They further opined that the government's agonies were rooted in the unusual importance of trees and woods to the British psyche. An editorial in the Times this morning declared:

In Britain's conception of itself, as Tory image-makers so recently knew, the myth of the wooded island looms large. William Shakespeare put his fairies in the forests. It was forestry that sheltered Robin Hood from tyranny. Oaks built our navies, which sailed the globe.

I respectfully disagree, twice.

I knew the government was in real trouble on Tuesday, when the Daily Telegraph's revered "Matt" drew a front page pocket cartoon of Winnie the Pooh and Piglet locked out of a privatised Hundred Acre Woods. As a rule of thumb, when the country's most loyally Conservative newspaper accuses a Conservative government of hurting Winnie the Pooh, things are going badly wrong.

It is also untrue that the British are unusually attached to forests. They may think they are—or rather may enjoy reading soppy leaders in the Times telling them that theirs is an ancient nation in touch with its woodland past. In truth, Britain has rather low levels of forest cover, compared to other European countries. And lots of our neighbours are frankly obsessed with forests, wolves and bears: every other French children's book features a wolf, for instance. Instead, for all our fantasies of rural purity, we are a car-loving, suburban nation of assiduous shoppers. It is telling that one of the main attack lines from the anti-privatisation camp concerns a patch of trees called Rigg Wood, which has closed its car park since passing into private ownership. Never mind that footpaths still run into Rigg Wood, if the 21st century British cannot step from their cars to the first trees, they have suffered a grave injustice.

That said, I do agree that the government is in real trouble over its plans to sell off the Forestry Commission's 250,000 hectares of woodland and forests. But why I think this really matters is because it shows, yet again, that the public does not really trust the whole thrust of Mr Cameron's vision for a Big Society, in which a centralised state gives way to a patchwork of local community groups, charities and businesses. Most pertinently, the public is mistrustful of any vision for Britain that blends altruism with the profit motive. And that is a big problem for the Big Society, which just does not add up if it does not include a dose of private enterprise.

For my print column this week, I went to talk to a bunch of volunteers in Buckinghamshire who are already living the Big Society, giving up six hours of their time every month to clear scrub, brambles and saplings from a wood near Wendover. The wood is currently owned by the Forestry Commission, and these volunteers rather liked it that way. They were, above all, hostile to any idea of a private owner. If someone were making a profit from the site, one suggested, they would be much less willing to donate their time for free. That strikes me as a real headache for the government.

Are people more hostile to private enterprise now than in the past? You could legitimately argue that all privatisations are unpopular in Britain, but (with luck) come to be accepted later as services improve. Well, I think something is in the air just now. I was not very surprised, I admit, when one of the volunteers noted that the Forestry Commission costs only £10m a year to run, and mentioned all the money spent bailing out the banks.

Whatever else can be said about banks and bankers, they have done astonishing damage to the cause of free markets in this country. I do not think we have yet plumbed just how much damage, either.

Here is the column:

AS CRITICS of government policy go, Robert Emberson and Giles Knowles are not very ferocious. Mr Emberson, a retired solicitor from the Chilterns—a pretty slice of commuterland to the north of London—says he “can’t see the point” of a government proposal to privatise his local woodland, Wendover Woods. Mr Knowles, a retired teacher, volunteers alongside Mr Emberson at the woods, clearing scrub and brambles twice a month. Mr Knowles is “not very keen” on a sell-off.

Their mild dismay might seem insignificant, beside the nationwide rage provoked by the government’s proposals to sell or lease large tracts of English woodland managed by the Forestry Commission, a public body. A YouGov poll found 75% of respondents opposed the sale of English forests. Hundreds of thousands of people have signed an online petition organised by a leftish campaign group, 38 Degrees, opposing what it claims are plans that could see “our national forests” fenced off, logged or turned into holiday villages. Right-wing commentators have condemned the plans as un-conservative vandalism. Grandees including the Archbishop of Canterbury, the Astronomer Royal and the Poet Laureate signed an open letter denouncing forest sales as “unconscionable”. Still more ominously, seismic rumblings of discontent have been heard from the National Trust, a charitable titan with 3.7m members.

For all that—and though this might sound odd—David Cameron’s coalition government should be just as worried about the quiet anxiety of folk like Mr Emberson and Mr Knowles. They are precisely the sort of people he needs to fulfil his vision of a British society built around voluntarism and civic pride.

The noisiest protesters are a lost cause. At its roots, the forestry plan is a privatisation. In the words of the cabinet minister in charge, Caroline Spelman: “the Forestry Commission sells Christmas trees, for goodness sake. What is the state doing selling Christmas trees?” Privatisations are often unpopular in Britain at first; they prove their worth later, when (with luck) it can be shown they have left the country better off. Most British woodlands are already private and are covered by tough planning rules and strict regulations on tree-cutting. Whatever protesters say, owners cannot build golf courses on a whim. Public footpaths are protected by law (though the rules are weaker when it comes to horse and bicycle access, or maintaining car parks).

But the forestry sell-off also represents something more ambitious: it is supposed to be a flagship example of Mr Cameron’s “Big Society” at work. A government consultation paper on the forestry plans explicitly talks of “shifting the balance of power from ‘Big Government’ to ‘Big Society’”, as the state gives way to a locally responsive patchwork of “civil society, businesses and individuals.” It is here that the real problems start.

Mrs Spelman, who is secretary of state for the environment, food and rural affairs, admits that the government is feeling political pain over forests, but says the “principal reason” is “wild speculation” by the media, such as scare stories suggesting ancient forests are about to become golf courses. She is right, but she needs to stop whining: the government bears much of the blame. Some bright spark has dreamed up an absurdly complex talking point for ministers—that the Forestry Commission has a conflict of interest as a regulator that also sells 70% of timber entering the British market. The rest of the time, they talk about how “heritage” forests such as the New Forest and the Forest of Dean will be given to charities, with public money to cover operating costs. Surely bodies such as the National Trust can do a better job running forests than the Forestry Commission, Mr Cameron told the House of Commons on February 2nd? But this line is a cop-out: the National Trust cannot run every wood in the public estate.

Colin is not the Leviathan

To be blunt, the government is failing wretchedly to sell the Big Society. For help, the prime minister might like to visit Wendover Woods, a 325-hectare slice of greenery near Aylesbury. For a Big Society fan, the woods come all but gift-wrapped with a bow. This close to London, their relative tranquillity is prized by locals. Some 350,000 visitors are drawn each year by foot, cycle and horse trails, a rustic café and “Go Ape!”, a commercial aerial playground. Between car park fees and rents, the woods deliver a small surplus to the Forestry Commission’s coffers. It could be a case study for localism: under local management, all that revenue would stay in Wendover Woods. Since April 2009 volunteers from the Chiltern Society, a local charity, have worked to clear scrub and brambles there, saving a crumbling Iron Age fort.

Yet, on a drizzly morning this week, those same volunteers are wary of a local charity taking over, and actively reject the idea of a commercial buyer. “The Forestry Commission manages this very well,” says Mr Emberson, hacking at a larch sapling. Isn’t the Forestry Commission an impersonal state bureaucracy, Bagehot ventures? “The Forestry Commission is not impersonal, it’s Colin,” says a volunteer, pointing out a young ranger down the slope. Above all, they dislike any idea of a commercial owner. It would be “all about money”, says one. If the woods were run for a profit, “I don’t think we’d be so keen to volunteer,” adds another. Bank bail-outs are mentioned, with a grimace. Mr Knowles likes the Big Society philosophy, but worries it will be exploited by “the people with money”.

Such views should alarm the government. Their vision for a flourishing society blends localism with the charity sector and business. Alas, just now Britons seem reluctant to accept that the profit motive can co-exist with altruism. That is the real lesson of the row over forests: if the coalition is serious about building a less statist Britain, it cannot dodge that crisis of trust forever.