Just two communities have applied to take neglected land into public ownership since the Scottish Government launched the initiative more than five years ago, The Ferret has found.
Since 2018, communities have been able to bid for the compulsory purchase of land that is abandoned, neglected or detrimental to the local environment or area, meaning that ministers can force owners to sell, even if they have no plans to do so.
Local communities can apply for the right to buy neglected land and property including greenspaces, woodlands, retail and industrial units, churches, halls, lochs, bridges, canals and foreshores.
However, just two groups have attempted to do so, and neither were successful, according to official data. Community ownership campaigners said the initiative set “too high a bar” for applicants to get past. An overhaul is needed to make it work for communities, they argued.
Released in 1968 and often referred to as Canada’s first music video, The Ballad of Crowfoot was directed by Willie Dunn, a Mi’kmaq/Scottish folk singer and activist who was part of the historic Indian Film Crew, the first all-Indigenous production unit at the NFB. The film is a powerful look at colonial betrayals, told through a striking montage of archival images and a ballad composed by Dunn himself about the legendary 19th-century Siksika (Blackfoot) chief who negotiated Treaty 7 on behalf of the Blackfoot Confederacy. The IFC’s inaugural release, Crowfoot was the first Indigenous-directed film to be made at the NFB.
Lyrics
Comes the spring and its warm thaw Around your neck, the eagle claw Upon your head, the buffalo horn Today a great new chief is born So raise him fast towards the sun A heart now beats, a life’s begun It’s eighteen hundred twenty-one Today a Blackfoot soul is, is born
Crowfoot, Crowfoot, why the tears? You’ve been a brave man for many years Why the sadness? Why the sorrow? Maybe there’ll be a better tomorrow
Your years have gone, the years have past Your heart is set, your soul is cast You stand before the Council Fire You have the mind and the desire Of notions wise you speak so well And in brave deeds you do excel And it’s eighteen hundred fifty-three And you stand the chief of Confederacy You are the leader, you are the chief You stand against both liar and thief They trade braves whiskey and steal your land And they’re coming in swift like the wind-blown sand They shoot the buffalo and kill the game And send their preachers in to shame And it’s eighteen hundred sixty-four And you think of peace and you think of war
Crowfoot, Crowfoot, why the tears? You’ve been a brave man for many years Why the sadness? Why the sorrow? Maybe there’ll be a better tomorrow
See the settlers in more numbers He takes whatever he encounters You’ve seen the Sioux all battered, beaten They’re all in rags, they haven’t eaten The Nez Perce’ were much the same It seems like such a heartless game And it’s eighteen hundred seventy-six And the enemy’s full of those death-dealing tricks Today the treaty stands on the table Will you sign it? Are you able? It offers food and protection too Do you really think they’ll hold it true? It offers a reserve, now isn’t that grand? And in return you cede all of your land And it’s eighteen hundred seventy-seven And you know the scales are so uneven
Crowfoot, Crowfoot, why the tears? You’ve been a brave man for many years Why the sadness? Why the sorrow? Maybe there’ll be a better tomorrow
Well, the buffalo are slaughtered, there is nothing to eat The government’s late again with the meat And your people are riddled with the white man’s disease And in the summer they’re sick and in the winter they freeze and Sometimes you wonder why you signed that day But they broke the treaties themselves anyway And it’s eighteen hundred eighty-nine And your death star explodes and then it falls
Crowfoot, Crowfoot, why the tears? You’ve been a brave man for many years Why the sadness? Why the sorrow? Maybe there’ll be a better tomorrow
The years have gone, the years have flown A nation since has swiftly grown but Yet for the Indian, it’s all the same There’s still the hardship, there’s still the pain There’s still the hardship, there’s still the strife It’s bitterness shines like a whetted knife There’s still the hypocrisy, and the hate Was that in the treaties? Was that the fate? We’re all unhappy pawns in the government’s game And it’s always the Indian who gets the blame It’s a problem which money can never lessen And it’s nineteen hundred sixty-seven
Crowfoot, Crowfoot, why the tears? You’ve been a brave man for many years Why the sadness? Why the sorrow? Maybe there’ll be a better tomorrow
Maybe one day you’ll find honesty Instead of the usual treachery Perhaps one day the truth shall prevail And the warmth of love which it does entail Crowfoot, Crowfoot, why the tears? You’ve been a brave man for many years Why the sadness? Why the sorrow? Maybe there’ll be a better tomorrow
An Aboriginal land rights song written by Australia rock band in the 80’s, not my cup of tea to be honest but documented here for completeness sake! https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Beds_Are_Burning
Out where the river broke The blood-wood and the desert oak Holden wrecks and boiling diesels Steam in forty-five degrees
The time has come To say fair’s fair To pay the rent To pay our share
The time has come A fact’s a fact It belongs to them Let’s give it back
How can we dance When our earth is turning How do we sleep While our beds are burning
How can we dance When our earth is turning How do we sleep While our beds are burning
The time has come To say fair’s fair To pay the rent Now to pay our share
Four wheels scare the cockatoos From Kintore East to Yuendemu The western desert lives and breathes In forty-five degrees
The time has come To say fair’s fair To pay the rent To pay our share
The time has come A fact’s a fact It belongs to them Let’s give it back
How can we dance When our earth is turning How do we sleep While our beds are burning How can we dance When our earth is turning
How do we sleep While our beds are burning The time has come To say fair’s fair To pay the rent now To pay our share
The time has come A fact’s a fact It belongs to them We’re gonna give it back
How can we dance When our earth is turning How do we sleep While our beds are burning
I was doing a little updating of this site recently and realised that I hadn’t posted about Nick’s remarkable book yet. Nick is a dear friend and I had the joy of arguing with him on the finer details of an early manuscript as well as accompanying him on one of the book’s trespasses. Well that is not quite true, I was on the train with him and then decided not to go along as his description of the landowner freaked me out too much to want to risk it.
If you are on this website, you’ve probably already read it, but if not, please acquire it at your soonest convenience and pause your life until you’ve had the change to drink it down.
This book is basically the spiritual companion to our show.
Compelling 2006 BBC documentary by Dan and Peter Snow about land rights in the UK. Section on how much of central London is still owned by aristocrats is excellent.
A great introduction to land rights in the UK made by Marion Shoard in 1987… sadly very little has changed. Do read her excellent books This Land is Our Land and Right to Roam.
It is primarily focused on the right to roam aspect of the act and it gives the best insight into how key battles were won of anything i’ve seen, heard or read.
Severine from The Greenhorns just sent me this ace song about the Land Corporation of Ireland by Duncan Bourne.
Bill Finney was an ancestor of Duncan’s. His son (William) was born in Ireland and for a long time he thought that the Finneys were of Irish decent. Given that Finney is also an Irish surname. However further research revealed a long standing Staffordshire branch of Finney.
The Land Corporation of Ireland arose out of the 1879 – 1882 Land War, which saw the rise of Irish Nationalism and gave us the word “boycott”. From the summer of 1879 the Land League carried out various activities aimed at preventing the forced eviction of tenants who had fallen into arrears due to recession. These activities ranged from ostracism (the boycott), protests at the sale of leases, riots and, although not officially sanctioned, assassinations. One organiser Michael Boyton advocated that land grabbers (people who took the land of evicted tenants) should be “given the pill” ie. shot. By 1882 the Land League had been suppressed and the Reform Bills of 1884 & 1885 gave voting rights to tenants as well as the promise of reduced rents, though these did not always materialise. The Land Corporation of Ireland was set up to work land that had fallen idle due to evictions but due to the Land War it was nigh on impossible to recruit from the local population and so “caretaker” farmers were recruited from England through letters sent to local parishes. Bill Finney was one such farmer.
Lyrics
I come from Wootton, Staffordshire Bill Finney is my name
And I sought employment where I could you name it, I was game
I started down the Holly Bush serving in that drovers inn
And through talking with those droving lads my travels did begin
Come all you eager labouring lads keen for some work to do
The Land Corporation of Ireland has just the job for you
I tried my luck in the Potteries towns but my efforts came to nought
So I travelled up to Middlewich and worked there with the salt
T’was there I saw a letter requesting men to farm
For the Land Corporation of Ireland and I thought, “well what’s the harm?”
Come all etc.
We’ll pay you ten to fifteen bob to work some idle land
Where used to live a family evicted out of hand
You’ll have a house and garden and a free allowance of fuel
But don’t expect a social life your reception may be cruel
Come all etc.
So I went to Tipperary away from England’s shore
And I learned about the hardship caused by the old Land War
I learned about the ‘Boycott’ and the giving of the ‘Pill’
And of the broken promises caused by the Reform Bill
Come all etc.
And so I am a caretaker on land of sorrows shame
Don’t blame me for being English sir there’s Irish in my name
My name it is Bill Finney come drink with me a while
The Land Corporation of Ireland are the ones you should revile
Robin being interviewed on Greenhorns Radio by Severine Von Tscharner Fleming about music, land rights, Three Acres And A Cow and the upcoming Land for What? weekend.
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