MY PURPOSE TONIGHT is to show what the thinking behind the World Conservation Strategy means for our countryside, and how it can provide the basis for new policies. If, as the title of my talk suggests, conservation is indeed at the crossroads, then so too is the countryside. We may think of the countryside as synonymous with peace, quiet and harmony. But the reality is different. For the countryside has become, in recent years, a place of dispute, conflict?even of crisis. This applies to each ofthe three aspects of the countryside, its society, its economy and its environment?as I hope to show. The image of life in the countryside which we are offered by those who wish us to buy beer, or whatever, is of charming villages, jolly pubs and friendly shops; above all, life at a natural pace and at a personal scale. In reality, the social structure of the countryside has been drastically altered by two forces, acting in opposite directions. The traditional role of the village as the home of the rural workforce has been undermined by a massive contraction in employment, especially in agriculture (there are barely one-third the number of farm workers now than there were in 1949); and at the same time, the village has become a desirable place in which to live for those with money and the mobility to commute elsewhere to work, or indeed in which to acquire a second home. Thus, while many rural areas have enjoyed an increase in population, especially in more recent years, this trend often obscures an unbalanced age structure (with too many old people and too few younger ones), and deep social divisions. The mobile newcomers frequently help to bring about the demise of local services?shops, post offices, buses, even schools?for which they have little need, but which are essential to the quality of life for those not owning cars. Furthermore, they contribute to pushing house prices beyond the reach of local people. Of course the countryside is spared the tensions of the inner cities, but all is not harmony, even in the most picturesque of villages. The popular image of rural employment, especially of farming, has also taken quite a knock recently. Until a few years ago the farmer stood in an especially favoured position in public esteem. He works hard, his livelihood is at the mercy ofthe elements, he meets the most basic of human needs?and as a bonus, he has been seen as caring for the countryside. But food surpluses, the nonsenses ofthe Common Agricultural Policy and the undeniable evidence of modern farming's massive assault upon the wildlife, landscape and historic heritage of the countryside have dethroned the farmer from this favoured position with astonishing speed. Thus, whereas a few years ago criticism of farmers was almost indecent, the pendulum has now swung so far the other way that scarcely a day passes without some new piece of (often ill-informed) 'farmer bashing' appearing in the newspapers. It reflects a minor earthquake in public attitudes. It has developed in parallel with another, no less significant, development: a sea change in the economic outlook for farming. Until recently farming seemed to be a blue chip part of the economy: now, with surprising speed, the mood has become distinctly bearish and a chill wind of uncertainty blows through every farm in the land (for with milk quotas here, can grain quotas be far behind?). So again where there was consensus and confidence, there is now conflict and doubt. No less dramatic has been the turnaround in our understanding of what is happening to the countryside environment. The planning system developed after the war was based on the assumption that the mere absence of urban development would ensure the protection of landscape, wildlife and the historic heritage. Such assumptions were widely shared until quite recently, with the comforting belief that, provided the countryside was not actually built upon, its environmental quality would not
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