Review: What Nature Does for Britain
Photography © David Stockings
Key theme(s):
Media Type: Book
Title: What Nature Does for Britain
Author: Tony Juniper
Year of Publication: 2015
In short, Tony Juniper’s book does what it says on the tin – it lays out the business case for investing in Britain’s natural systems and the services they provide.
Juniper explains through a dizzying plethora of case studies (illustrating more general research) how this type of investment generates all sorts of beneficial outcomes, from tangible monetary benefits to more intangible outcomes. This might seem like a strange book for me to pick up – I describe myself as a “believer” in the future, so surely I don’t need convincing of the value of nature? And presumably I believe in protecting nature for its own sake, rather than because of its value as an asset?
Well, both of those things are certainly true, though I like to think my views are more nuanced than “nature = good”, but one common factor I have observed in many of the talks, webinars and events I attend is that the attendees are often fellow believers who are worried about meeting resistance from non-believers. For example, when I attended the UN Global Compact Network UK’s series on Creating Impactful Climate Transition Plans, I think the question “How did you achieve stakeholder buy-in?” came up in most, if not all, of the sessions.
Interestingly, there seemed to be two basic answers to this question:
1) “Our company has always believed in sustainability, so it’s a top-down commitment.”
2) “You have to make the business case.”
This book serves as a portfolio of case studies for people in the second position, i.e. the ones having to make the case that there are benefits to investing in nature. It provides a huge array of examples of how conservation, preservation and restoration projects have delivered disproportionately large benefits, albeit focusing on public services and benefits rather than corporate interests. That is one thing to keep in mind – the book is fundamentally a political manifesto, so its target audience is the general voting public and political leaders, not necessarily business people.
But first, some context . . .
What Nature Does for Britain was published in 2015, on the eve of the 2016 UK general election and with the dramatic flooding of 2014 in recent memory (undoubtedly reinforced by the floods of 2015 and 2016). In the words of the author, “The fact that so many people seem to accept this line of thinking – that the protection of nature is harmful to people and the economy – is the reason for this book” (p. 2). Until a short while ago, I would have said that the tide has turned on this line of thinking, and yet as I write (without wishing to give too much away about how far in advance I write my blog posts), current UK Prime Minister Rishi Sunak has recently issued new oil and gas licences in the North Sea and seems to be trying to frame the upcoming election as a climate-vs-business battle (what the author calls “the mythical tension that is portrayed between ecology and economy”, p. 254), an attitude I thought was fading. It is also written as an explicit political manifesto – each chapter ends with a “Manifesto” section with steps that the incoming government could implement. I haven’t checked every single one, but I do not see much sign that many have been implemented since the 2016 election, sadly.
To support these action points, each chapter consists of a series of case studies that show how nature-based solutions can contribute to our wellbeing as a society and economy. Each focuses on a particular issue like soil, pollinators, flooding, energy, etc. This seems like a logical approach, but the interdependent nature of these topics makes it challenging. Soil health is a key issue in agriculture, of course, but one of the major challenges in this area is the overuse of chemical fertilisers, which run off into rivers, causing algae blooms and other river-health problems. This in turn impacts how well the river flows, which is a major factor in flooding.
This is the reality of any nature-based project, of course – the natural world is a huge web of interconnected and interdependent systems, and attempting to segment it into isolated single issues is a daunting task.
But it’s one that Juniper does well.
I certainly can’t imagine a more logical way of organising the material, and each chapter generally flows into the next. Though if I have a quibble, it’s that the actual links can be a little abrupt (Chapter 2 is linked to Chapter 3 by a single sentence) and sometimes a little forced (the chapter on fishing is linked to the chapter on waterlands based solely on the fact that they both involve seawater). It reminds me a little of trying to string everything I could remember about Othello together into a single argument in my GCSE English exam. This may be one of those things that that exercises people like translators, who spend a lot of time thinking about the structure and flow of ideas, but that ‘typical’ readers wouldn’t notice. And even if they did notice, it’s a fairly minor critique.
One major takeaway from the book is just how many and varied these sorts of projects are. I described the book as a ‘dizzying plethora’ above, and I stand by that description. Juniper clearly has an almost encyclopaedic knowledge of what is happening in the UK’s nature conservation and restoration scene (or was at the time), as one would expect from someone so heavily involved with Friends of the Earth and now Natural England. He also has an enormous amount of energy and enthusiasm for these projects – you certainly get the impression that he has personally visited most if not all of them and engaged earnestly with the people and issues involved. This is very much the ethos of the book, and one that is hugely inspiring and contagious.
For all that the book is aimed at political leaders who seem at times rather divorced from the physical realities of climate change, it is really about getting stuck in and realising just how tangible a positive impact the sorts of changes being proposed can have.
I smiled to myself at the line in the preface about leaving the “familiar political landscape” and “going instead to the real Britain, the one where we are supported by nature, wildlife and natural systems at almost every turn” (p. 2), as this is something I have recently committed to doing – exploring my beautiful Essex surroundings on a more regular basis.
That enthusiasm also translates into an ability to really paint a picture of the projects being described. Whilst there are stats and facts aplenty, Juniper does a really good job of creating a tangible sense of the projects, particularly given the relatively small number of actual images in the book. This is a political manifesto, and like all great political calls to action, it is written as much from the heart as from the head. The projects mentioned also cover pretty much every part of the country, so there is something for every reader with a connection to any region of the UK to connect to.
This is important, because the narrative zips around all over the country, to an extent that is sometimes a little difficult to follow, so there do need to be hooks that individual readers can relate to. For me, these were the projects in the East Anglia region – for example, the wetlands chapter felt particularly relevant since the fens and marshes are such a feature of my local landscape. If I’m honest, I have probably not retained a huge amount of the details of all the projects mentioned. The book is so densely packed with information that it’s just not possible to take it all in, and I didn’t manage to get through any single chapter in one sitting. At times, the narrative felt like a bit of a whirlwind – hugely impressive, but somewhat disjointed, particularly if – like me – you feel the need to look up more information about most of the projects as you’re reading. This doesn’t detract from the overall effectiveness of the book, but I would say it’s a book that requires more than one reading.
One part where this energy is particularly obvious and powerful is the final chapter, Chapter 9 – Imagine, subheaded “We can restore nature in a generation–so let’s do it”. Its call for a change in attitude towards ‘progress’ that is compellingly written and decidedly galvanising.
I would suggest that even if you don’t have time to read the entire book, then it’s worth flipping to the final chapter. There you will find a perfect example of Juniper’s ability to combine serious reflections grounded in facts and figures with a vision of a future that you can really believe in and that feels in reach.
If I have a criticism of this chapter, it’s that the focus is very much on high-level top-down action (and it’s explained why this is). This is essential, of course, and the context that the book was written in is relevant here. Elections are when people and societies should be thinking and talking about the future of the nation, not the future of individuals.
And it’s also important, of course, to emphasise that protecting and restoring nature and our natural world is a task for us as a collective – we cannot fall into the famous greenwashing trap of thinking that it’s up to the individual consumer to save the world, not big companies. That said, I do think there was an opportunity to emphasise what individuals can do beyond the rather nebulous instruction to put pressure on government by voting. For example, the book mentions some statistics about how many people are members of organisations like the RSPB and the National Trust – would it have been unreasonable to suggest that the reader could have joined their local Wildlife Trust as well? Or perhaps it’s safe to assume that anyone choosing to read the book is either
A) probably already part of these organisations, or
B) not likely to be convinced if they’ve got this far and not already been won over?
Again, context and target audience is king.
So, would I recommend the book to others?
Undoubtedly, though I would definitely point out the book’s context when making such a recommendation. As I mentioned, I did try to look up some of the projects, green-energy companies, etc. and found that a dispiritingly significant proportion of them no longer exist. This is to be expected, of course, and the failure rate is in all likelihood no higher than the failure rate of ‘typical’ projects and businesses. This also doesn’t diminish the impact that the projects had whilst they were operational, nor the overall argument that there are real, impactful and practical results that can be and are being achieved around the UK. And where one company has failed, another has undoubtedly taken its place – the book presents an abundance of these worthwhile projects, which has no doubt continued to proliferate in the years since its publication.
Takeaways for sustainability communicators
There’s no substitute for passion when it comes to writing about sustainability.
Local ‘hooks’ can be powerful anchors for readers, particularly when you’re writing about something that feels distant.
Detail can be persuasive, but must not be allowed to distract from the overall argument.