A common resource, or so they say, is a tragedy. Meadowlands will be overgrazed; the sea overfished. The pursuit for personal gain guarantees it. But the killjoy here isn’t self-interest. Nah, any scolding is left to insufficient property rights. Privatisation can end this dystopia, with profit maximisers then creating a patchwork sea of optimally grazed fields. Inspired by walking my dog, this dreamscape is today’s topic of investigation.
Field 1. I’m walking my Scottie dog, Heron Rheingold, home. I’ve sought a shortcut. He’s never fully recovered from smashing his hip in a bid to confront the postman. Other than a rabid hatred of vets, short slow walks are sometimes the order of his day. It’s one of those days. Forced off the footpath, I’m immediately confronted by a clichéd farmer: “You’re not supposed to be here. This is private land”. I’m obliged to reroute. It’s too much for Heron; I must carry him home. The tragedy in this instance is not the commons, but the anti-commons. It appears that there is too much private property. An uncaring attitude about my dog’s plight, the land is underused by the dog walker. Privatisation has harmed welfare; an amendment to my ‘right to roam’ is suggested.
Field 2. It’s two years later. Try not to be emotional, but Heron has sadly past away. Aethefrith Blaec has filled the hole in my heart. Another Scottie, I’m skirting the field’s edge to get to the same footpath. He has a passion for chasing cars; and no, it’s not the Snow Patrol song. A new Range Rover pulls up. It’s the farmer again and he’s miffed. “That field has been recently sprayed; oh, by the way, there will be 250 houses built on it after harvest. Find a new walk”, he gloats. Two thoughts instantly spring to mind. First, packing in so many houses, they’re going to have mightily small gardens. Second, perhaps I’ve been too orthodox in my commons versus anti-commons rhetoric? Rather than attempting to derive a sweet spot for the level of land privatisation, I’m left frying bigger fish.
Typically ignored in the textbooks, I’m reminded of a Henry George quote: “We must make land common property”. This isn’t a call by a neglected economist for collectivisation; it is ultimately a cry for understanding. A gift from Mother Nature, land ownership should be rooted in a celebration of equal rights. There should be only part-ownership, where the landlord derives no automatic right to collect unearned rent. Our emphasis of the commons is transformed. Rather than an issue of too few owner rights, it becomes one of too many. This is a charge more antsy than the anti-commons, an approach only rooted in a bleat over economic efficiency. It is now focused on English injustice, with half of its green and pleasant land belonging to just 25,000 Jerusalem singing landowners. The threat to the commons isn’t posed by resource overuse, but destruction by conquest or the sleight of hand offered by exploitative capitalism. It is a destructiveness which explains an abundance of the homeless unleashed on our streets.
But what has this to do with my dog walking? To the Georgist, it leads to a carnival of justice that pivots around land value taxation. Such tax, for example, penalises the land hoarder. And these penalties will reduce the prevalence of urban sprawl. The developer is incentivised to build upwards, rather than out. My local field might be saved; I wouldn’t have to consider increasing my carbon footprint by driving the dog to a new walk in the next village.
But there’s a possible alternative strategy to savour. Consider the subsidies provided by the Common Agricultural Policy (CAP). Given the skewed land ownership, it’s hardly surprising that these funds are similarly skewed in favour of the well-off. The Friends of the Earth report, for example, that Sussex’s Duke of Norfolk scooped £473,000 in 2017. What happens to these resources post-Brexit? It is likely to be business as usual, with a British farming system aping the offerings of CAP. But what if the policy-makers decide to hit the innovation button? What if these funds are instead released for the protection of the commons? Imagine a fund used to support, and create, locally run land trusts. Who then acquires the field? The local community, by applying for trust status, has first refusal on any land being sold. What would their land stewardship subsequently entail? I can’t say for sure. I’d hope that they’d protect my dog walk. Rambling through a wild flower meadow generates a double joy; one of positive externalities for me and one which supports eco-diversity. Creating co-operative small holdings, they might instead decide to make a mockery of the tragedy of the commons itself. Perhaps, lured by resources from the developers, they’d still destroy my walk? I would be miffed, but at least the economic gains are embedded within the community.
Of course, my proposal is unlikely to gain traction. It’s only partially fleshed out after all, and there is the bone of a deeper issue showing: Dog walkers are just too radical.