Are black Labradors somehow a symbol of the far Right? Does a warm pint of beer signal bigotry? And have the cosy country pubs that smell of log fires and scampi fries become politically suspect?
That appeared to be the implication from Jenny Riddell-Carpenter, appointed Labour’s nature minister in July. Speaking at a fringe meeting during the party’s conference in Liverpool this week, she said such ideas were enough to “keep her awake at night” as she questioned the image of a traditional British countryside. In her view, that landscape “never really existed” and instead represents “a very far-Right nostalgic vision”.
Her alternative is what she calls “a progressive vision for the countryside”. Yet when a Labour minister reaches for the word “progressive”, it is difficult not to wonder what follows.
For many people living in rural communities — and even for the fictional residents of The Archers — progress might mean restoring village post offices, improving public transport, keeping local schools open, protecting wildlife or strengthening flood defences. Those priorities, however, do not appear to define Labour’s rural agenda.
In Ms Riddell-Carpenter’s version of rural progress, the emphasis seems closer to covering productive farmland with vast arrays of solar panels.
It also means building landscapes dominated by wind turbines and approving enormous data centres that consume huge amounts of heat and water, despite objections from residents who say their homes and communities are being damaged.
Are country pubs, with their fireside atmosphere and familiar traditions, now being portrayed as inherently reactionary? Sarah Vine argues that Jenny Riddell-Carpenter’s comments point in that direction
The Government plans to accommodate thousands of male asylum seekers whose backgrounds have not been fully checked at a migrant site near the small rural village of Piddington
Meanwhile, critics argue that tax increases are placing rural pubs under further pressure, while farmers who have worked the land for generations risk being forced out as councils acquire property cheaply before constructing large housing developments.
They also object to plans to accommodate thousands of male asylum seekers in small villages such as Piddington, saying concerns about cultural tensions are too readily dismissed as prejudice rather than debated seriously.
Until now, policies of this kind have been felt most sharply in urban and suburban communities, including Epping and Braintree. Judging by the anger and disruption reported there, it is hard to describe the results as an unqualified success.
Ms Riddell-Carpenter now appears to believe that the same approach should be extended across rural Britain.
Her senior colleague Andy Burnham has expressed a similar view, arguing that every part of the country must make its “fair share” of the contribution.
To opponents, this amounts to the return of a Labour class politics that has already helped leave parts of Britain’s cities struggling with crime, litter, antisocial behaviour and failing public services. They fear that the same heavy-handed approach could now threaten the remaining pockets of order and community life in the countryside.
The crack of willow against leather, a drink shared with friends, the loyal gaze of a family dog, an evening walk beneath the fading light and the call of woodpigeons: who would have imagined that such ordinary pleasures might be labelled part of a far-Right fantasy?
The broader question is why Labour seems so hostile to the customs and eccentric traditions that many people regard as distinctively British. Why replace a rich, imperfect culture with something critics fear will be bland, standardised and joyless?
Even if rural life is viewed through a nostalgic lens, that is hardly a crime. In an unsettled world where many institutions appear to be failing, nostalgia can offer a harmless retreat — a way for disillusioned people to hold on to memories of something they value.
More awkwardly for the minister, her criticism also raises the question of whether she recognises the apparent contradiction in her own position.
Images shared by Ms Riddell-Carpenter herself show a black Labrador beside a blazing fireplace, while another picture captures her pouring a pint behind the bar of a country pub — scenes that seem remarkably close to the rural traditions she has criticised.
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Nor is nostalgia confined to the countryside. Critics say the Government itself is looking backwards, pointing to the Prime Minister’s apparent desire to revive what he regards as the golden age of the 1970s: powerful trade unions, high taxation, extensive council housing and widespread nationalisation. Those ideas, they argue, belong to an equally romanticised far-Left vision — one the Prime Minister reinforced in his conference speech.
But the British countryside isn’t just a fantasy. It is a real, timeless, beautiful part of this island’s heritage and patrimony. If you rip the heart out of it, you rip the heart out of Britain itself.
Jenny Riddell-Carpenter told a fringe event at the Labour Party’s conference in Liverpool this week that the notion of a British rural landscape is nothing more than ‘a very far-Right nostalgic vision’
British rural life – thatched roofs, pubs serving terrible food but great company, honesty boxes at the end of people’s drives, cottage gardens, cricket pitches, country house shoots, fishing – not only are these things all part of a British culture that transcends age and class, but they are also aspects of Britain that set us apart as a nation and are admired the world over.
Rural tourism in England alone contributes £13billion to the economy annually, generating around four million jobs. Are all these people really engaged in a ‘far-Right fantasy’? Of course not.
For someone such as myself, whose family emigrated to Italy in the early Seventies (in large part, as it happens, to escape the mess and misery the last hard-Left government inflicted on this country), I see the British countryside with a foreigner’s eye.
Driving home for holidays and Christmas as a child, I was always struck by the stark contrast between the landscape on the continent and the views that greeted us as we rolled off the ferry into rural Kent.
Half-built houses, vast factory developments, jerry-built high-rise blocks, road-side shacks gave way to neat fields and pastures, country lanes and pretty houses with well-kept front gardens. There was a strong sense that people took pride in their slice of land, whether it be a tiny cottage or a vast estate.
The smell of wet labrador on the stone floor of my aunt’s farm in Cornwall, crawling along at snail’s pace behind a tractor down a country lane, stopping to wait for some sheep to cross, pausing for half a shandy and a packet of cheese and onion crisps: these were the simple pleasures of home.
There seemed to be an order and purpose to it all that I found both familiar and reassuring. Britain felt like a place with its own clear identity, at times rather odd and a little peculiar, but nonetheless certain of its character and place in the world.
For some unfathomable reason, Labour despises all that. For them it smacks of Empire, of privilege, of something they can’t control or understand. It suits them to break it up, to fracture these communities and traditions, to bully and intimidate them out of existence so they can replace them with their own vision and, crucially, their own voter base.
That is why they are so pro-immigration and so reluctant to take concrete steps to limit the numbers of people from very different – and often morally problematic – cultures arriving on our shores. It suits their anti-British agenda; it helps in the ultimate dilution of our culture, and that in turn plays to their advantage.
The British countryside represents the last bastion of ‘small c’ traditional conservatism, and Labour are coming for it. If these wreckers get their way, this green and pleasant land, this landscape that carries the memories of countless generations of Britons, will be lost forever. Labour will indeed pave paradise – and put up a parking lot.
Why does the Labour Party despise women so much? I only ask because tomorrow, October 1, the release of convicted criminals begins under the Government’s new scheme to reduce prison crowding.
Among those are domestic abusers, stalkers and repeat violent offenders who have their victims – many of whom have only just begun to rebuild their lives – trembling in fear at the prospect. Honestly, I don’t know how Angela Rayner, Jess Phillips, Bridget Phillipson and all those other Labour so-called ‘women’s champions’ sleep at night.
Speaking of Angela Rayner, I understand that she has her woman-of-the-people image to protect, but should a Secretary of State really be hosting a DJ set at party conference? Whatever happened to the dignity of high office?
Angela Rayner behind the DJ decks at the Labour Party conference
A few weeks ago, I wrote about the nightmare my mother faces in dealing with the endless ‘sadmin’ related to my father’s death. Many of you got in touch to detail similar soul-sapping experiences. And as if life wasn’t hard enough for older people (and those caring for them), Andy Burnham has now announced he’s abolishing the pension triple lock. Truly, this is no country for old men (or women, for that matter).