Printable page E-mail this

HARRYING the landed classes is a sport as ancient as fox hunting; when done by a Labour government, it is considerably more effective. Beginning on September 19th, the guardians of Britain's rural estates will have a new insult to set beside inheritance tax and compulsory purchase orders, as the plebs gain the right to stroll over much of their land. Caroline Tayler, whose family have inhabited Pippingford Park, in East Sussex, for the past 85 years, is outraged. “This feels like theft,” she says. “It just seems so left-wing.”

The left-wing part is undeniable. The right to traipse across private property has been embedded in the Labour movement's spinal cord since the 1930s, when urban workers staged mass trespasses on pretty bits of northern England. Another source of inspiration, for this as for much other New Labour policy, is Scandinavia. Norway and Sweden not only allow free rambling across private land; they also permit fruit-picking, riding and skiing.

Labour's fixation with hunting Sep 9th 2004 New maps of ramblers' rights Nov 15th 2001 A right to roam Mar 11th 1999 The countryside marches on London Feb 26th 1998 Britain Property The Countryside Agency will manage the new rights of access. The Ramblers' Association campaigned to get the legislation through. The Country Land Business Association has reservations about the policy.

British reforms do not go quite that far. Only foot-based recreations are allowed, and only on mapped areas of “mountain, moor, heath and down”. But the area affected is large. The 153,000 hectares to be opened this Sunday are just the beginning: by the end of next year, 830,000 hectares will be available—7% of the land area of England, in addition to the very extensive network of footpaths and public parks already in existence. A quarter of Wales will go the same way, together with the great majority of Scotland, where the executive has approved more radical reforms.

Change has not been easy. In England alone, at least 2,700 appeals have been lodged with the Countryside Agency, which is charged with managing the new rights of access. Mapping has often been incompetent: Caroline Bedell, of the Country Land and Business Association, claims that quarries and quicksand are among the delights inadvertently opened to the public. And the reforms encourage some bad behaviour. All rural dwellers get a private exclusion zone around their house, but this is usually defined by fences and walls. So an edifice surrounded by a vulgar barrier will get a larger exclusion zone than a cottage tucked into a corner of moorland, which earns only the minimum 20 metres' privacy.

Such arbitrariness makes it seem as though the reforms come from urbanites putting the boot in to men of the soil—another aggravation to set alongside nit-picking farming codes and a ban on hunting, which was approved by the House of Commons on September 15th. That isn't quite right. Some of the impetus for the reforms stems from resentment at new landowners who made their fortunes in the cities and have created what Dave Morris, of Ramblers Scotland, calls “private kingdoms”. Madonna and Mohamed Al Fayed, the owner of Harrods, are among those who have petitioned for clemency. Large arable growers, who have ugly land and political clout, will hardly be affected: upland sheep farmers will suffer most from Islington's boots.

The expected invasion is likely to be polite, though. We know this thanks to Ian Keirle, a University of Wales academic who spent a cold two days tracking walkers in Snowdonia in the winter of 2002. They were allowed to stray off the paths, but fewer than one in ten did. Mr Keirle believes that, after a brief spell of Scandinavian-style roaming, everyone will resume their old routes. And, contrary to fears, urbanites are unlikely to visit the country solely in order to gaze in other people's kitchen windows. They can do that without leaving home.