Wild Land News no 64, Autumn 2005

Letter to the Editor Article

Dear Sir,

The articles by James Fenton [link] and David Jarman [link] in Wild land news 63 raise interesting questions about what we mean by wild land and why we value it. From the viewpoint of a hypothetical tourist, Fenton laments the destruction of traditional vistas of open moorland by encroaching forestry. Jarman queries the obstacles to human access posed by impenetrable conifer thicket on Ben Ledi and spreading tussock grass and rushes elsewhere (the wading-through-treacle problem). Both authors view wild land through an anthropocentric prism.

This raises the question: is wild land valuable only as a resource for human use (for recreation, scenic beauty, spiritual refreshment or whatever), or does it also have some value in its own right, independent of man? It is possible to see nature - almost by definition - as something non-human, radically other, and therefore (perhaps) evoking almost religious emotions like awe or reverence. Fenton comes close to recognising this when he argues for the conservation of open moorland as an ecosystem that is relatively rare in global terms, as opposed to forest ecosystems which are relatively common, suggesting that biodiversity is valuable in its own right. But there is perhaps a deeper issue lurking behind this - a distinction between ecosystems which are "natural" and those which are essentially human artefacts.

There is a further dimension to be considered. Does it make any sense to talk about natural heritage and nature conservation in isolation from questions of cultural heritage? (Personally I would like to abandon the whole notion of natural heritage precisely because it muddies the boundary between nature and culture.) Few if any of Scotland's landscapes and ecosystems are entirely "natural": most have been modified by centuries or millennia of human intervention. Many of the Highland areas that we now value as wild land have passed from a semi-natural state influenced by human hunter-gathering, cattle transhumance and micro-agriculture, through monocultural management regimes aimed at sheep, deer or grouse production, to their current status as a kind of managed semi-nature.

If we are serious about understanding our historical roots (and hence our future potential), we obviously have an obligation to conserve cultural landscapes as well as natural ecosystems. This raises still more questions: for any given site, should nature or culture take priority? And if we are trying to conserve or replicate a cultural landscape, which cultural phase do we select? In different centuries, the same moor may have been grazed by cattle, sheep and deer. Obviously there are many different factors to consider, not least climate change: there is no point in trying to replicate an eighteenth-century cultural landscape if climatic conditions have changed decisively in the meantime.

The answer is surely that sites must be considered on a local, case by case basis, but also within a clear national and global planning framework. For any site, we need to consider what makes it special, and the views of local people should play a major role here. But we also need a national and global perspective: it is daft to conserve or create many sites of one type, while allowing other, equally important types of site to wither away.

But - going back to my original question - maybe we also need some sites that are not actively planned and managed at all, where nature is just allowed to go its own sweet way. Of course this is a counsel of perfection: no site can be protected from the impacts of global warming, air pollution, etc. But maybe we should designate some areas of maximum non-intervention. If nature manages to create some environments that are inaccessible to humans, then the best of luck to it. Maybe that is what "natural" wild land means.

Yours,
Dennis Smith
11A Marchall Crescent,
Edinburgh EH16 5HL