Changing perspectives

Ben McFarland

This piece first appeared in the October issue of British Wildlife as part of the regular ‘Changing perspectives’ feature, which invites different guest authors to write on a subject of their choice. You can browse previous columns in our back issues pages, and look out for the next contribution, from the Badger Trust’s Rosie Wood, in our November issue

^{© Rolf Dietrich Brecher (CC BY-SA 2.0)}

Of course, sadly there are plenty of modern examples too, from the Irish potato famine of the 1840s, to the Ethiopian famine of the 1980s. It is therefore perhaps not unreasonable for people to voice concerns when they hear of yet more land formerly used for arable farming being converted to wilding projects, or for nature more generally. Another perspective, though, is to look at alternative land uses outside of urban areas and ask: if we really are in a food security crisis, why is that land not being used to help food security and why do we choose to ignore this issue?  

An estimated 47 million pheasants are released every year, with between 7,000 and 12,000 tonnes of grain needed for feed prior to release and then an estimated further 20,000–30,000 tonnes after release. Based on average-grade arable land, with an average yield, this means that 4,000ha are required to grow the grain used to feed pheasants that are then shot, the majority being buried in pits and not eaten. This is hardly contributing to sustainable food security. The British Horse Society estimates that there are 1 million horses and ponies in the UK, with each animal needing roughly 0.5–1ha of grass to retain condition. Even using the more conservative estimate, there must be at least 500,000ha of grazing paddocks in the UK. Cumulatively golf courses amount to around 126,000ha of land. Rugby and football pitches combined take up 25,100ha. Globally there are an estimated 49 million hectares of land needed to feed pet dogs and cats, using dry food only (https://tinyurl.com/4web8b4e). In the UK there are 13 million dogs and 12 million cats, which is way above global averages. If we conservatively estimate that this is only 2% of the total global population of pet cats and dogs and we only use dry food, we can reasonably assume that to feed these carnivores would require 1 million hectares of land. Clearly, much of this land comes from abroad, in areas of the world that could probably benefit from increased food security. Compared to these uses, wilding sites across the UK registered under Rewilding Britain’s Rewilding Network amount to around 150,000ha, a large part of that area being in the highlands of Scotland. If we say that the true area of land might easily be double that if it included those projects not registered with the network it amounts to a hardly whopping 1.5% of the UK land area, most of which is not in any event suitable for arable crops.  

^{© Oliver Dixon (CC BY-SA 2.0)}

Why is giving space to wildlife constantly berated by some on food-security grounds, when it is patently clear that there are a whole load of other land uses that do not get the same treatment? It is an interesting question to reflect on. I think, to some extent, the answer lies in the subconscious, uncomfortable thought of giving land away to a use that does not appear to directly offer anything to humans. Everything else can be clearly seen to directly benefit us as a species. Even when there is harm to nature it is almost invariably seen through the lens of the human experience. How did the ‘Sycamore Gap’ incident, involving a single non-native tree, light such a touch paper across the country? These are questions that we, as wildlife conservationists and ecologists, need to think very carefully about.  

I believe that the issue of wildlife versus food security may well be touching on something deeper in our psychology. Many cultures, especially those derived from Abrahamic traditions, put humanity on a pedestal in a way that ‘others’ non-human species. You don’t have to be religious for that cultural teaching to act very powerfully on your personal outlook on life and in your behaviours. Most cultural thought was developed thousands of years ago, when survival meant we had to think about ourselves and our families and how we feed ourselves, day to day, season to season. This is further compounded by, and linked to, our biology. As modern biologists recognise, we are driven by our DNA and the urge to pass that DNA on. Most people are blissfully unaware that this evolutionary legacy drives behaviours that now lead to significant wildlife decline. What is it that drives someone to create a perfect ‘neat and tidy’ garden? It’s not to save money or time, or to reduce stress for that matter; it’s to clear the front entrance of the cave, so it’s harder for a wolf to snatch one of the clan. We continue to act out our evolutionary history without knowing it and to have any hope in reversing biodiversity decline, we need a much better understanding of ourselves and our place in the world now. Only by understanding ourselves better will we begin to understand why we continue to act in ways that drive biodiversity decline and why we continue to see wildlife and conservation as threats to food security.  

I believe we should never underestimate our ability to innovate. Ever since we first started cultivating those wheat and barley crops thousands of years ago in the Fertile Cresent, I suspect every generation of farmer said to the next generation that there is no way we can produce any more food on a given area of land. For thousands of years, this assumption has been proved wrong. Insect-based proteins, lab-grown meats for pet food, vertical farming techniques are just few examples that may provide a solution. We know that over 7% of our food grown is wasted through the supply chain. We know we ingest far more calories than we need too. The issue is not lack of quantity of food produced, or, in fact, lack of land, but how we can produce it in a sustainable way that enables us to use land for other purposes, including supporting wildlife. It is critical that we do this, and I believe history shows that we can do it, but only if there is a genuine will and cultural reappraisal of our attitudes, across society.

Ben McFarland is the Director of Wildlife Conservation and Recovery at Suffolk Wildlife Trust (SWT) leading on nature reserve management, land management advice, planning and advocacy and Wilder Ecology, SWT’s consultancy. He previously worked at the RSPB and the Environment Agency.