Opinion: There’s nothing scarier than Defra at Halloween
As Halloween approaches, the most ominous knock at the door for farmers is unlikely to come from the neighbours dressed as the Flintstones.
Instead, the Environment Agency, HSE or even Defra would send a shiver down our spines. It often feels as though these organisations are not here to support us, but to undermine our main focus of feeding the nation. Defra is a particular disappointment.
See also: Opinion – Humans matter, as well as the environment
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Whether due to its poorly thought-out environmental schemes – “SFI-gate” – or a generally ill-informed approach, farmers are left wondering whose side it is on.
With some site of special scientific interest land on our farm, we were fortunate enough to be offered a Countryside Stewardship scheme more than a year ago.
Yet we are still waiting for an agreement, thanks to technical errors with the Rural Payments Agency (RPA). My adage for the agency – Rarely Prompt, Always Painful – feels increasingly apt.
I quickly learned that explaining anything by email is a no-go. If there is a way to get the wrong end of the stick, they will find it, and I lack the patience to wait five working days for a reply.
A phone call is your best bet. But what a gamble. Will you get an answer, or lose your marbles in the process? My marbles are long gone.
So much so that calling the RPA has become a source of entertainment in itself – a personal game of bingo. First up on the scorecard: will I even get an adviser?
More often than not, I am dealt the dreaded “call-back” card. Inevitably they call back mid-nappy change, and somehow the baby, me and the phone all end up needing to be disinfected afterwards.
If, however, you are fortunate enough to hear the opening notes of Mozart’s Piano Concerto No. 21 in C major, you may be in luck.
A real, live person might actually answer your call. Whether they have the knowledge to help is another matter. Forget “two fat ladies” at number 88; in RPA bingo, it’s “two inept employees”.
You can cross off two squares at once: “I’m afraid I can’t answer that” and “Let me pass you on to someone who might know”.
Much like a masterful leopard lying in wait for its prey, I sit at home with a coffee, ready to pounce on my next adviser. Forty-five minutes have passed, but I remain hopeful that my humble question might be answered within the hour.
Given the salary and pension on offer, I expect my subject-matter expert to be an environmental farming guru, equipped to support and represent us.
I was disappointed when, at 3pm on a Thursday, I am told the specialist has knocked off for the day and won’t return until Monday. And so my game of bingo comes to a disappointing end.
My simple question remains unanswered. Much like Halloween guising, it’s an hour of anticipation and effort, followed by an adrenaline crash and familiar feelings of deflation and dismay.
So, as Defra ministers prepare to go dookin’ for money in the latest Labour Budget, perhaps they could spare a thought for the farmers left waiting at the other side of the door.
We must meet deadlines, follow complex rules and deliver public goods, all while juggling the unpredictable realities of running a farm.
Until Defra can get a grip of their organisation and provide a useful service to British farmers, their promises of support will remain little more than a Halloween trick.