The village where I live is circled by farmland: fields of sheep, cattle, rapeseed and wheat. In the evening you hear the lowing of cows; in the morning sheep grazing by our garden gate sounds like children munching on cornflakes.

Borders farms in our area do a booming trade. Some of the tractors that squeeze past our car are more space-age than Piers Ploughman. Shepherds work by quad bike rather than foot, whizzing around their flocks with a sheepdog yelping from the back.

If you were to ignore the high-tech vehicles, in many respects the landscape looks much as it did a century ago. In some parts, small stone-walled fields have given way to rolling acres of wheat and oats, stored in metal barns as sprawling as a supermarket. There’s enough open space hereabouts to mimic the vast American plains. Just over the border, however, lies the Lake District, where the field pattern is not so much patchwork as pointilliste. This is the domain of the shepherd James Rebanks, a third-generation farmer who is becoming an increasingly prominent spokesperson for a farming revolution.

Rebanks’s latest book, English Pastoral, is a cri de coeur for a more sustainable - what he calls “high-welfare” - way of working the land. He, and others, want to turn back the clock from the intensive agriculture and chemical dependency of previous decades, which all but ruined the land. Instead, the idea is to promote regeneration and soil renewal, which produces healthier crops and animals, while also benefitting nature.

The problem is, it is not profitable. Government hand-outs are essential to make this new model economically viable. And, in order to be eligible for grants, farmers have to meet stringent eco-targets, to improve the natural habitat.

In Scotland, meanwhile, to help combat climate change environmentalists are keen to oust sheep from the hills and replace them with trees to capture carbon. Echoes of the 19th-century Highland Clearances are hard to avoid. Back then, crofters were evicted from their plots to make way for large-scale sheep rearing. Now the wheel is turning in another direction. While only a few would deny the need urgently to tackle global warming, this particular initiative has upset experts who say that the new plantations – serried ranks of Sitka spruce that throw a dark blanket over hillsides and destroy views - are the wrong sort of trees. A mixed landscape of native species such as oak, alder, birch and pine is what’s required to nurture a diversity of wildlife.

While that argument gradually comes to a boil, tensions are rising in other quarters. Today’s Battle of Britain, it seems, is for the very soul of the countryside. On one side is ranged the farming community, struggling to adapt to a more eco-friendly and tech-savvy way of doing things. As if this were not stressful enough, Scottish beef and lamb producers are braced for disaster after the latest round of Brexit trade talks, with Australia, threatens their livelihood.

Facing them across the battlefield is an assortment of environmentalists fighting a rear-guard action to reclaim ground that was lost years if not centuries ago. Among their latest targets is the peat industry, whose industrial-scale extraction of this carbon-capturing resource (primarily for garden compost), is completely unsustainable. Peat, however, is an important source of income for parts of the Highlands and Islands, which perhaps explains why, unlike Westminster, the Scottish government has not yet named a date when it will be banned from garden centres. The management of sporting estates is also under the microscope, on ecological but also political grounds. Among other issues, the old practice of burning heather on lucrative grouse-moors is widely condemned, as is the killing of predators that prey on game birds, thereby significantly diminishing the ecosystem.

Other voices add to the clamor around the rural world, not least a feisty platoon of rewilders. Their aim is to return extinct indigenous species of birds and mammals to the wilds, thereby restoring an ancient balance. Already there have been successful reintroductions such as sea eagles and beavers, although some farmers claim the eagles, whose wingspan is up to 8 feet, snatch lambs, and the beavers’ dams lead to flooding.

More controversial is the prospect of returning wolves and lynx to Highland forests, which would keep down the deer population and allow vegetation to thrive. Farmers are concerned about the impact on livestock, while some hillwalkers are nervous at the thought of a close encounter with White Fang as they tramp the glens.

Equally disturbing, to my mind, is the fear that should any landowners be granted the right to rear alpha predators, they might feel entitled to fence off large areas of their estate, allegedly for public safety. Since there is no law of trespass in Scotland, thereby allowing us to roam freely so long as we do not damage crops or property, this might provide a legal loophole around legislation that many estate owners resent.

As if there were not already enough competitors on the scene, there are hundreds of thousands of people like me who are simply ramblers, cyclists, mountaineers or birdwatchers. Before the pandemic, pressure on the most scenic locations was getting to the point where an island like Skye was plagued by traffic jams more appropriate to Picadilly Circus than Portree. This past year, footfall on the most popular hill tracks and rural paths has further intensified, degrading trails, overwhelming amenities, and leading to over-use and abuse of the land.

Some years ago, a piano was found abandoned on the slopes of Ben Nevis, our highest mountain. It was a harbinger of things to come. Now, our fields, forests, peaks, rivers and shores are being pulled in all directions. Many of the initiatives designed to protect the natural and cultivated landscape are long overdue. Yet with the ever-growing allure of green space, too many of us want a piece of it and have an opinion on how it should be managed. In such a small country, there’s only so much to go around before something, or someone, snaps.

(Rosemary Goring is a journalist, writer and editor. Her books include Scotland: The Autobiography, Scotland: Her Story and the novels After Flodden and Dacre’s War. She is currently writing a book about Mary, Queen of Scots, and lives in the Scottish Borders, closer to England than Edinburgh.)

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港蘋國際-

Battle for the soul of the countryside｜Rosemary Goring

There is much to learn from history, especially from Eastern Europe under USSR’s rule. Milan Kundera’s classic novel ‘The unbearable lightness of being’ set the story in the background of Prague Spring in 1968. There was a short period of liberation after the Czech reformist Dubcek came into power. The Prague Spring lasted for half a year and ended up in the Soviet Union’s invasion and suppression.

The novel was famous for its blend of philosophy and literature. Kundera frequently interferes with his unique philosophical perspective in history, politics and love. The remarkable opening of the novel is Kundera’s thought on Nietzsche’s concept of eternal return. It is a hypothesis that posits that the universe has been recurring, and will continue to recur, for an infinite number of times across infinite time or space. Kundera argued that even though the universe recurs, it will not be the same as the previous one. In the novel, Kundera used a metaphor: as long as Robespierre came back into life, he would no longer be the same Robespierre in the previous French revolution. In other words, we only live once; therefore, we could not evaluate which option is the best first before making a decision. Kundera drew a conclusion: it’s decay in morality. Everything is firstly forgiven. Everything is firstly allowed.

On the other hand, it’s also a love story. Tomas is a womaniser and has sexual relationships with uncountable women. But he only loves his wife, Tereza. She’s depressed, anxious about Tomas’ infidelity and treats herself as a weaker person. Sabina is Tomas’ mistress and soul mate. Sabina also knows Tereza and even introduces Tereza to work as a photographer. In the history of literature, there are famous examples of two female figures as a mirror image to each other. To name a few, Naoko and Midori in Haruki Murakami’s Norwegian Wood; Red Rose and White Rose in Eileen Chang’s novel. To me, Tereza and Sabina are another pair of classical mirror images.

There is a lot to explore in the novel. This article is not capable of covering them all. I just want to share two episodes here. Tomas and Tereza once fled to Switzerland after the USSR’s suppression. Tereza took a lot of photos when the Soviet troops marched into Czech. She then went to a Swiss magazine to share the photos with an editor. The editor pretended to be very interested in the photos, but then he told Tereza he could not publish them as it’s already been eight months since the suppression. It’s too distant. Tereza thought it still kept going in Czech. Later, his colleague put the photos of nudity of people sunbathing in front of the editor. It drew his attention immediately. The World works in this way. Everything is forgotten very soon. Every unrelated (to local) piece of news disappears very fast.

Finally, Tereza chose to go back to Czech. The encounter with the editor was one of the factors pushing her. She did not notify Tomas before she left. Tomas initially felt relieved, after spending 7 years with her. After few days, he found that he could not stand without seeing her. Hence he went back to Prague as well. He knew that he was unable to leave the country anymore. Stay or leave, sometimes (or always?), is because of one person only. Kundera has profound insight into life. It’s one of the reasons why I love his works so much. Nevertheless, we never know whether it’s the right decision for Tomas since we could not live twice. Everything is allowed. To every Hong Konger, it applies to every decision of whether to stay in Hong Kong as well.

(Pat To Yan, Active in Hong Kong and German Theatre. Playwright, Director, Lecturer. Elected Council Member and the Chairman of the committee of Literary Art of Hong Kong Arts Development Council.)

The Unbearable lightness of emigration | Pat To Yan

Dustykid was born in 2013. He is a cute little speck of dust, always wearing a huge smile to go with his charming round eyes. He and his dusty buddies lived in people’s house, laughed with you, cried with you, and most importantly as a loyal friend sitting right next to our souls.

Up till today, Dustykid has accumulated over half a million fans locally and abroad altogether. More than 40 heart-warming books have been released since 2014. The positive image of Dustykid attracts wide recognition and support from numerous commercial brands and NGOs such as The Samaritan Befrienders Hong Kong, UNICEF, Agent of Change and so on. It is a genuine representation of mental health ambassador.

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Weather the Storm ☂ ｜Dustykid

Stacy Belcher came to Hong Kong to start the first University Archives at The University of Hong Kong in 2006. Since relocating to the city from the United States, she enjoys embracing Hong Kong culture through learning and communicating in Cantonese, wearing and designing cheongsams, even worshipping Chinese deities to counter bad luck.

On Lunar New Year, Stacy brings joss sticks and incense papers to the Hung Shing Temple in Aberdeen to offer to Chinese deities including Tai Sui, Hung Shing and Kwun Yum. “I hope to do the little ritual for appeasing the Tai Sui, making him not so unhappy with me,” Stacy says with a smile. Born in the Year of the Dog, her Chinese horoscope faces fan Tai Sui this year — meaning a bumpy year ahead because of offending the Gods who guard one’s health and wealth. 

Stacy’s interest in Chinese culture goes way back before she moved to Hong Kong. The Director of the Archives first learned about the Chinese zodiacs when she studied Chinese culture for her undergraduate degree in cultural anthropology. “And when I came to Hong Kong, I learned more about it. I shouted at home like: Oh my god, I need to do [the ritual to pacify the Gods],” she recalls. “So now I have the astrology book for every year, so that’s how I know I am arguing with or offending Tai Sui.”

These practices are unusual for Christians like her, but Stacy does not find it a problem.  “I don’t see a big conflict between Christianity and Buddhism, because I don’t see Buddhism as a religion. I see it more as a philosophy of life.” She used to attend morning mass at church every Saturday before visiting an old temple like the Tin Hau Temple or the Kwun Yum Temple.

Particularly fascinated by ancient myths and legends, Stacy taps the Hung Shing Temple in Aberdeen her favorite. “Hung Shing is the God of storm and weather, and of course that would be important in a fishing village.” She points to the opposite side of the temple, “At one time before all these skyscrapers were built, there used to be a ridge that looked like a tiger, like it would jump right across the bay and attack Ap Lei Chau.” And the two pillars at the temple entrance were put up like a cage to keep the tiger in. “You can still see the remains of the last one. They were made of a solid piece of wood. It takes a lot of work to paint all these five-claw guardian dragons on.”

Her passion for local history and culture eventually led her to HKU, where a friend introduced her to Lee Ho-yin, co-founder and director of the university’s Architectural Conservation Programme. “I was just impressed with him as a scholar, but I was really surprised when he asked me out on a date. Why me? That’s what I thought.” She confesses her immediate attraction to Lee. “I feel pretty fortunate because he is the best man I know.” 

The two got married six years ago. Lee fondly recalls teaching his wife Cantonese, including swear words. “She once asked me the Cantonese colloquial term for ‘mother’, so I answered ‘lou mou.’ And she repeated it loudly. I was startled and told her it’s best not to say the word so loudly in public,” he chuckles.

Stacy learns more about local traditions and history not only from Lee, but also from his mother. “She doesn’t speak English, so we communicate in Cantonese and she helps me with my language. I really like my naai naai (mother-in-law). His parents are very welcoming. And it must have been weird for them to have a Caucasian daughter-in-law.”

Lee also shares with her a trick to please his mother. “I told Stacy to simply repeat the last words of whatever my mom asks. For example, if my mom asks, ‘Is it good?’ She should reply ‘good.’ If my mom asks, ‘Do you like it?’ She should say ‘like it.’” Stacy’s enthusiasm for Chinese culture has also impressed her in-laws. “My mom always says that Stacy has good taste and makes good choices.”

Among these good choices is Stacy’s liking for cheongsams. Stacy says, “Cheongsam is very elegant. It complements almost every figure and makes it look better. You can wear it to almost any kind of event. I can wear it to work too.”

But most shop-bought cheongsams suit only Asian bodies. “When I tried on cheongsams here,  either they did not fit me or I didn’t like the fabric.” With the help of a tailor she met through a friend, the American-born now has dozens of custom-designed cheongsams, featuring longer and more flattering sleeves for her age. “I get a lot of my ideas from the drawings and posters from the 1920s and 30s.” She keeps a small notebook so that she can draw sketches whenever she wants. Sometimes she even purchases fabric from the U.S. for her tailor.

Stacy initially planned to stay in Hong Kong for only six to seven years. “Because I never lived in any place in America for very long either, my family moved around quite a bit. And I have never lived in a big city before.” She recounts, “When I came, I didn’t speak Cantonese, I had no friends or family here. I was completely alone. The thing that was most frightening to me was not the Chinese-ness, but the fact that it was a big city … For a long time, I would not go past the fourth floor in the Time Square mall because I was terrified of those glass elevators.”

The first three to four months were the most difficult for her because she had to get used to the pace of the bustling city. “I had difficulty sleeping because it never gets dark here. I come from a more rural place and it’s dark at night. But when I came to Hong Kong, there were lights on all the time. And I couldn’t get used to that at first.” Luckily it did not take her too long to adapt. “After I have lived here for a while, I have already fallen in love with Hong Kong. Also I tried to learn Cantonese and that’s how I learned a lot about where I was living.” On her second visit home, she even found the pitch black darkness a bit scary.

“I missed Hong Kong terribly when I was away,” she admits. “I like the people, the food, the history and the culture of Hong Kong. I feel comfortable here.” Stacy is proud to call Hong Kong her home and herself a Hongkonger. “Sometimes older people have a tendency to think that only people who look Chinese can be HongKongers and I don’t think that is true. The only requirement is that you have to live here for a while and you have to love this place.”

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