The earth beneath our feet has been stolen. What was once a common wealth is now held in private hands, hidden by a web of walls, hedges, and fences away from the many by the few. That’s according to Nick Hayes, author and illustrator of The Book of Trespass. Published in august 2020, the book aims to explore the English countryside from a view not seen my most of its inhabitants with a series of trespasses through the lands of Dukes, Earls, and Daily Mail editors, shining a light on the scale of inequality embedded into the landscape.
On the blurb he writes ‘The vast majority of our country is entirely unknown to us because we are banned from setting foot on it; by law of trespass, we are excluded from 92 per cent of the land and 97 per cent of its waterways.’
Each chapter of the book is named after an animal species and uses these animals to take a different perspective on the divisions in England, intertwined with a personal tale of trespassing. Simultaneously tracing pathways through both history and the landscape, Hayes switches between his in the field accounts with the whys and hows of division, and the power that these ideas hold. Each chapter also contains a black and white illustration drawn by Hayes of the places he trespasses.
The first chapter ‘Badger’ opens with a quote from Mr Badger of The Wind in the Willows ‘Any friend of mine walks where he likes in this country, or I’ll want to know the reason why’, and sees Hayes following a badger trail until he is confronted by a disgruntled farmer. This encounter sparks his interest as he considers why the words “You’re trespassing” cause an immediate guilt. This chapter along with the second ‘Fox’ explores the legal and philosophical nature of trespass as well as common fictions, such as the infamous ‘trespassers will be prosecuted’ sign. As he points out, they won’t. Trespass alone cannot be brought to court without damages incurred, even though the interpretation of damages can be vague and recent laws muddy the waters even further.
Later in the book he moves from asking the more abstract question on rights to exclude, to the often bloody and violent history of how certain people came to be able to block access to all others. In the chapter ‘Sheep’ he takes us on a quick tour through the acts of enclosure in England, where aristocrats fenced off land (usually for pasture for sheep to then privately profit from the lucrative wool industry) that was before used in common by the communities that lived there, and the rebellions sparked by these thefts. Notably the Midlands revolt, where in 1607 captured rebels who protested the dispossession of hundreds of thousands of commoners were hung drawn and quartered, their limbs pickled and paraded through the surrounding villages as a warning to others who resist enclosure.
It was interesting to have histories that I was taught at school and had previously not thought much about, like the 1066 battle of Hastings and subsequent Norman rule, be recontextualised in their effects on the history both of England and the rest of the planet.
On this he writes
‘Hunting was the original source of the cult of exclusion. As soon as William the conqueror forested (here meaning taken from the common) the lands, the ancient tradition of working-class hunting became redefined as poaching. Simultaneously, the food the working class relied on was redefined as ‘game’, the objects of a moneyed pastime’
and connects the exclusionary and expansionist logic that drove colonialism as being practiced first in England, the wealth gained going on to then be used to fund colonies and that wealth again being used to privatise more of England in a self-reinforcing loop.
‘as slavery financed more walls around the commons of England, more and more country folk were corralled into the cities, into a new work regime that would spur the industrial revolution. The new money that had flooded England, brought in on the back of African and Indian labour, was the same money that partitioned English commoners from their livelihood and land’
The structuring of the book as switching back and forth between the authors acts of trespass and the historical context that defines these acts as trespasses worked better in some areas than others. Delving into the history of MP Richard Drax’s estate, one of the largest land owners in England, whose ancestors financed the rights to the land with the riches acquired through the owning and running of slave plantations in Barbados, clearly illustrates the way in which land inequality permeates through time. The vivid descriptions of hopping Drax’s walls works well here to concretely connect the past and present, that the colonial period still manifests in the physical structures that break up England.
However, there are parts of the book where this layout was disorienting, and I found myself having to go back a paragraph to understand which century I was reading. Some of the descriptions got repetitive (he lights a lot of campfires) and I found myself wanting to get back to the juicy history bits.
The book reckons with many other divisions implicated by property, such as the application of property claims to people, as in slaves, and to women who have been historically understood as the property of their fathers and then husbands. From slave revolts to witch hunts, a crash course in the creation and dissolution of these past (sometimes current) views of what a person can rightfully claim they own demonstrates that these ideas are far from fixed, and can be changed for the better.
Far from merely limiting the English from more scenic views, Hayes argues the exclusion of most of England as having real negative impacts on the present population, going as far as to say it is a foundational inequality that all others build from. The link between access to green spaces and improved mental health is well established. It also limits communities’ options in response to the effects of climate change, one instance being the routine burning of upland moors to increase grouse numbers for shooting. This not only throws huge amounts of carbon into the atmosphere but also reduces soil water absorption, increasing the likelihood and severity of floods downstream with disastrous effects for the locals, and all for the afternoon pleasure of a tiny fraction of people who don’t even live there. Currently land owners can hide environmentally destructive activities away from the public and use ‘reasonable force’ to prevent people uncovering ecocidal practices like chemical dumping.
The solutions discussed in the book are less radical than it seems to be building up to. He briefly discusses a single land tax (also known as Georgism) but, maybe unconvincingly, writes he is not trying to completely overhaul the property system. Instead, he looks to some of our European neighbours for inspiration. In many countries in Europe, including our neighbours to the north in Scotland, the ‘right to roam’ laws open up the great outdoors for anyone to enjoy walking, camping, canoeing and more. These laws don’t mean you’ll wake to strangers in your garden, or wanderers entering through your backdoor, and could easily be implemented in England.
A passionate and informative look at our country’s history, the authors love for nature shines throughout, and I would recommend this book to anyone looking to better understand England’s past and shape its future.
‘If you think England is beautiful, you should look behind its walls’
To get the book for yourself:
The Book of Trespass by Nick Hayes | Waterstones
Or check out some of the sources from the book:
Browse the legacies | Legacies of British Slavery (ucl.ac.uk)
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