Natural England's Bureaucratic Cowardice as our Countryside Burns

In 2025 England experienced its worst wildfire crisis on record, with over 27,000 grassland and woodland fires tackled, yet the government agency responsible for nature conservation has issued guidance that epitomises everything wrong with modern environmental bureaucracy: Natural England staff have been ordered not to tackle fires with flames exceeding 50cm in height.

Let that sink in. Fifty centimetres. Less than two feet. The kind of fire that farmers and gamekeepers routinely extinguish by hand before professional firefighters can even arrive on scene.

Instead of allowing trained staff with firefighting equipment to act, Natural England's guidance instructs employees to "focus on precautions to take such as creating fire breaks and reviewing emergency procedures." One can only imagine the scene: countryside ablase, trained staff with equipment standing by, dutifully reviewing procedures whilst flames consume precious habitat.

This would be farcical if it weren't so dangerous. The cruel irony is impossible to ignore. Natural England's rewilding policies have created the very tinderbox conditions now threatening communities across England. By imposing severe restrictions on controlled winter burning—a traditional land management practice that breaks up dry vegetation and prevents catastrophic fire spread—the quango has overseen a massive buildup of combustible material across England's uplands and moorlands.

The Moorland Association has repeatedly warned that these policies risk "catastrophic" and uncontrollable fires. The National Fire Chiefs Council itself cautioned in early 2025 that preventing winter burning could increase "the likelihood and severity of wildfires." Fire chiefs stated they were "increasingly alarmed" that biodiversity policies "may conflict" with fire risk management.

Natural England's response? To refuse engagement in any debate that might "lend weight to negative viewpoints." This is institutional arrogance of breathtaking proportions. When the people who actually fight fires—professional fire chiefs, gamekeepers, farmers—raise alarm bells, the proper response is not to plug your ears and retreat into bureaucratic self-justification. It's to listen, learn, and adapt.

The agency's memo glibly states that other fire prevention measures will only be considered "where they can be shown to work alongside long-term habitat recovery." This is ideology masquerading as science. It prioritises theoretical future benefits over demonstrable present dangers.

The 2018 Saddleworth fire—which took hold in an area where Natural England permitted heather burning only once every 23 years—spread smoke across Greater Manchester, affecting five million people. That's not a theoretical risk. That's a public health crisis created by policy failure.

The 50cm flame restriction is particularly egregious because it represents health and safety culture run amok. Yes, employee safety matters. But these are trained staff, on high-risk sites, equipped with firefighting equipment. The guidance itself acknowledges they have "suitable fire-fighting equipment" and training in wildfire response. So why can't they use it?

Landowners across the country routinely tackle similar-sized fires manually. Gamekeepers risk their lives fighting wildfires before professional firefighters arrive. They understand what Natural England apparently doesn't: that small fires become large fires, and minutes matter.

By the time staff have finished "reviewing emergency procedures," a manageable 50cm flame could have spread across hectares of bone-dry vegetation, particularly during the prolonged dry spells England now experiences.

This isn't an isolated incident. It's part of a broader pattern of Natural England's failure to deliver despite ballooning budgets and staff numbers. The agency's budget has increased 73% to £318 million in five years, with approximately 3,000 staff, yet outputs continue to decline.

Recent debacles include the launch of a peat depth map that Natural England itself admits land managers cannot rely upon to identify where deep peat actually exists—this despite a 2021 government commitment to create detailed peatland mapping specifically to help tackle wildfire risk. Four years and millions of pounds later: a map that cannot be used for its stated purpose.

When an organisation becomes this detached from practical reality, when it can watch the countryside burn whilst maintaining bureaucratic restrictions that prevent its own trained staff from acting, something has gone profoundly wrong.

First, Natural England must immediately revise its wildfire response guidance to permit trained, equipped staff to tackle fires at the early stages when intervention is most effective. Bureaucratic risk-aversion should not trump fire prevention.

Second, the agency must genuinely engage with the fire services, land managers, and farming communities who have repeatedly raised concerns about vegetation fuel load. This means actually listening, not dismissing criticism as "negative viewpoints."

Third, Natural England needs to acknowledge that rewilding and fire prevention are not mutually exclusive. Controlled burning, grazing management, and mowing can all support biodiversity whilst reducing catastrophic wildfire risk. The EU Commission and US Government both advocate prescribed burning as part of comprehensive land management—England shouldn't be an outlier.

Finally, Defra and Parliament must demand accountability. When a quango with a £318 million budget and 3,000 staff cannot produce usable peat maps, cannot engage constructively with stakeholders, and issues guidance preventing its trained staff from fighting small fires, questions must be asked about its fitness for purpose.

England's countryside is burning. Communities are at risk. Biodiversity itself—the very thing Natural England exists to protect—is being consumed by flames. The agency's response should not be to stand by reviewing procedures whilst gamekeepers risk their lives doing the job it won't.

This isn't nature conservation. It is bureaucratic abdication dressed up as environmental stewardship. And if Natural England cannot recognise the difference, perhaps it's time for those who can to take charge.