Estovers, turbary, pannage: they sound
like answers to questions on University Challenge. And this weekend
millions of Britons will be enjoying a relatively recent addition to
their ancient rights to collect firewood, cut peat, and graze pigs on
common land – the right of access.
Yet countryside campaigners say that, as a whole, Britain’s thousands
of commons have never been so threatened – from disuse even more than
from development.
Commons date back
at least to Saxon times, with some archaeological evidence suggesting
they are rooted in prehistory. Once they covered about half of the
country; some of our earliest laws are about managing them. Now they
make up only some 5 per cent of Britain. England’s 7,000 commons, for
example, cover an area about the size of Suffolk.
What is left is often especially valuable. Eighty-eight per cent of
commons in England and Wales lie in areas officially designated for
their beauty or wildlife, such as National Parks, Areas of Outstanding
Natural Beauty, and Sites of Special Scientific Interest, while urban
commons are cherished green lungs among the concrete. Upland commons,
too, provide vital grazing for hill farmers.
They remain because
they survived successive waves of enclosures, which in turn provoked
resistance by sword and pen. Armed rebellion broke out in Norfolk and
Oxfordshire, while John Clare, the 19th-century peasant poet, bewailed
“little parcels little minds to please, with men and flocks imprisoned
ill at ease”. His contemporary William Wordsworth went further, tearing
down a wall built on common land and helping to save the great commons
of Helvellyn and Grasmere in the Lake District.
Enclosures,
however, continued into the 19th century, when Britain’s oldest
conservation group, the Open Spaces Society – which this year celebrates
its 150th anniversary – was formed to fight threats to Hampstead Heath,
Wimbledon Common, parts of Epping Forest, and other commons in the
capital. In 1878 it went nationwide, campaigning in vain against the
Lake District’s Thirlmere reservoir, but winning public access to
adjacent common land.
The Open Spaces Society led to the formation of the National Trust (Alamy)
Seven years later, one of its trustees –
the social reformer Octavia Hill, a leader of the Thirlmere campaign –
was convinced that conservationists had to go further and buy land for
the public. She proposed establishing the Commons and Gardens Trust,
“for accepting, holding and purchasing open spaces for the people in
town and country”. The name struck a colleague as too long-winded:
he substituted “The National Trust.”
Today the trust is one of the main owners of common land, which,
contrary to public perception, belongs to individual people, firms and
bodies rather than to the public at large. Some 36,000 rights for
non-owners to use them have been registered and commons are supposedly
protected by law, but the Open Spaces Society is still fighting
encroachment.
It has, for example, returned to one of its first battlegrounds to
resist United Utilities erecting a six-mile fence at Thirlmere, and is objecting to the building of a
£315 million motor racing circuit on 600 acres of common land in the Welsh Valleys.
There are two sides to each story; the water company is trying to
reduce erosion from grazing, and promises stiles and gates for access,
while the circuit would bring much-needed jobs and income to one of
Britain’s poorest areas.
Thirlmere Reservoir: an ancient battleground for commons campaigners (Alamy)
Still, the society insists that commons are “probably under greater
threat today than for decades”. Cuts threaten to deprive the Surrey
Wildlife Trust of hundreds of thousands of pounds of public money for
managing its 9,000 acres of common land, while recent legislation has
made it easier to build on village greens. The worst danger, however, is
from disuse, especially on smaller commons, where
people no longer exercise their rights. Grazing, for example, has declined dramatically, causing scrub to take over.
Yet there are signs of revival. Communities from the Chilterns to
Northumberland, East Devon to Tunbridge Wells, are clearing scrub and
bringing life back to commons by managing them. They are organising
activities such as pond-tipping, tree-planting, horse-riding and
butterfly recording, school visits and nature walks.
It’s a long way from the estovers, turbary and pannage of yore. But it offers hope of a new age for our ancient common land.