Democracy in Sark

How the island dubbed 'Europe's last feudal state' is moving slowly towards something called democra

In February 2006, the hardier residents of Sark paced to the polls. It was a bitterly cold, snowy day and as there are no cars on the Channel Island, people had to walk or cycle to the polling station.

Turnout was low but the outcome was unequivocal. By a margin of 6%, the islanders opted to abandon an age-old feudal system and voted instead for democracy.

Now, the little island of Sark is not part of the UK, it is a Crown Dependency with its own government but back in the mid 1500s it was unoccupied and in imminent danger of being settled by the French.

In 1563 the Seigneur of St Ouen in Jersey, Helier de Carteret, was granted the island by Elizabeth I on condition he kept it continually inhabited, by 40 men at least, who had to be loyal English subjects.

This is still true today. He divided the island into 40 farms, called tenements, and invited families from Jersey and Guernsey to settle there. He retained one tenement, the rest were required to provide one man with a musket to defend the island.

During those early years, the island was run by its inhabitants. But by 1579 the numbers had grown to such an extent that was unworkable – so the hereditary tenement owners administered the island.

The tenants formed the Chief Pleas – the island's Parliament – which administered Sark for the next 343 years.

By 1922 though, circumstances had left ownership of the tenements in the hands of a small number of individuals.

A constitutional review was held, and it was decided that 12 deputies should be elected. Tenants and deputies then worked side by side in Chief Pleas with very little difference between them; both groups felt they had a duty and an obligation to work for the good of Sark.

But by the 1990s, an increasing number of people were taking advantage of a generous tax regime by buying up tenements as investments, but not actually living on the island.

The nature of the tenants began to change, from working members of the community who inherited their tenements, to off-island owners with little or no connection to Sark life, who nonetheless had the right to sit in Chief Pleas and legislate for the island.

More profound legal issues also grew in prominence. Sark is a signatory to the European Convention of Human Rights (ECHR), and was increasingly subject to challenges on the basis of its lack of universal suffrage. With this in mind, our Chief Pleas began a constitutional review in 1999.

The composition of Chief Pleas itself was left to the last, being the most emotive issue. Sark tenants whose families had given centuries of service to the island were upset that their contribution was apparently being ignored.

Few on Sark really wanted change, and felt that the old system worked very well - but we had signed the EHCR, and that required an elected government.

A number of combinations were advanced and exhaustively discussed, as the type of tenant continued to change. With a deadlock in Chief Pleas, it was decided to hold an island-wide poll of Sark residents and take the result into account.

This initial poll showed a slim majority in favour of a universally elected Chief Pleas, but our parliament claimed that the turnout was too low and refused to accept the result.

A further plebiscite was commissioned from Electoral Reform Services later that year, which achieved a turnout of 89.5% and a 12% majority in favour of a fully-elected government. The Chief Pleas finally accepted the result, and the Reform Law was agreed.

But the traditionalists were not finished yet. At the first Meeting of Chief Pleas in 2007 a member convinced the assembly that it was still possible to have seats dedicated to tenants. The Reform Law was retracted - to the fury of the Sark inhabitants, who by now were keen for a taste of democracy.

Since then, battle has re-commenced. At the end of 2007, Chief Pleas eventually accepted a compromise agreement, with a binding referendum to finally determine its composition.

But at the turn of this year, the Lord Chancellor looked at this long-running attempt at reform and decided the changes were fundamentally undemocratic, and against the will of Sark's people.

The compromise law was withdrawn and Chief Pleas, after much discussion, agreed subject to final agreement this month, to become fully elected.

In early February, Michael Wills MP, Minister with responsibility for the Crown Dependencies visited the island to convince Chief Pleas, and the public, that the final version of the Reform Law must be passed immediately, if Sark is to fulfil its legal requirements and hold elections in December.

An Extraordinary Meeting of Chief Pleas on 21st February will make the final decision – but the march of English-style democracy into Sark now seems inevitable.

Image: Chapel Studios for Sark Tourism

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An English hero for the ages: Ian Botham at 60

Botham blends his sportsmanship and deep-seated passion for cricket with a lust for life.

Begging W H Auden’s pardon, it is possible both to honour and to value the vertical man, and in the case of Ian Botham, who turned 60 on 24 November, it is our bounden duty. No sportsman has given Britons so much to enjoy in the past half-century and no sportsman is loved more. Two decades after he retired from first-class cricket, his reputation as one of life’s champions remains unassailable.

No mere cricketer is he, either. Botham is a philanthropist, having raised more than £12m for various charities, notably Leukaemia and Lymphoma Research. In December, 30 years after his first walk from John o’Groats to Land’s End, he will set off again, in South Africa, where England are on tour. And he really does walk, too, not amble. As somebody who accompanied him on one of his dozen walks said: “You can’t keep up with him. The man is a phenomenon.”

Of all postwar sportsmen, only Bobby Charlton and, at a pinch, Henry Cooper come close to matching Botham’s enduring popularity. But Charlton, a shy man who was scarred by the Munich plane crash of 1958 (and may never have recovered from its emotional effects), has never comfortably occupied a public stage; and Cooper, being a boxer, had a solitary role. Botham, by contrast, spoke for England. Whenever he picked up his bat, or had a ball in his hand, he left spectators in no doubt.

Others have also spoken for England. Bobby Moore and Martin Johnson, captains respectively of England’s World Cup-winning football and rugby teams, were great players but did not reach out to people as naturally as Botham. Nick Faldo, Lester Piggott, Sebastian Coe and, to bring us up to date, Lewis Hamilton have beaten the best in the world, but they lacked those qualities that Botham displayed so freely. That is not to mark them down. They were, and are, champions. But Botham was born under a different star.

It was John Arlott, the great cricket commentator, who first spotted his uniqueness. Covering a match at Taunton in 1974, he asked the young colt to carry his bags up the rickety staircase to the press box, where Arlott, wearing his oenophile’s hat, pulled out a bottle of red wine and invited Botham to drink. Forty years later Botham is a discriminating wine drinker – and maker. Along with his friend and fellow England great Bob Willis, and their Australian wine­making pal Geoff Merrill, he has put his name to a notable Shiraz, “BMW”.

Arlott, with his nose for talent and good company, saw something in the young Botham that Brian Close, his captain at Somerset, was beginning to bring out. Later, Mike Brearley, as England captain, drew out something even more remarkable. As Rodgers and Hammerstein wrote, you’ve got to be carefully taught. And Botham, a fine team man as well as a supreme individual performer, has never withheld praise from those who enabled him to find his voice.

If sport reveals character, then cricket is the game that reveals it most clearly. In no other sport is the individual performance rooted so firmly in a team context. Every over brings a contest of skill and intelligence between batsman and bowler but only a team can win the match. “A cricketer,” as Arlott said, “is showing you something of himself all the time.”

Cricket also reveals national character more than any other sport. Football may be the most popular game in the world but cricket, and cricketers, tell us far more about England and Englishness. It is instructive, in this regard, to hear what Philippe Auclair, a French journalist and author long resident in London, has to say about Botham: “He is essentially an 18th-century Englishman.” In one! It’s not difficult to sense a kinship with Tom Jones, Fielding’s embodiment of 18th-century life, who began his journey, as readers may recall, in Somerset.

A country boy who played for Worcestershire after leaving Somerset, and who lives by choice in North Yorkshire, Botham is an old-fashioned Englishman. Although nobody has yet found him listening to the parson’s sermon, he is conservative with a small and upper-case C, a robust monarchist, handy with rod and gun, and happiest with a beaker in front of him. He represents (though he would never claim to be a representative) all those people who understand instinctively what England means, not in a narrow way, but through something that is in the blood.

Above all, he will be remembered for ever as the hero of 1981. Even now it takes some believing that Botham bowled and batted with such striking success that the Australians, who were one up after two Tests, were crushed. Some of us who were actually at Headingley for the famous third Test – thousands who claim to have been there were not – recall the odds of 500-1 on an England victory going up on the electronic scoreboard that Saturday evening.

Botham made 149 not out as England, following on, beat the Aussies by 18 runs. For three hours the country seemed to stop. In the next Test, at Edgbaston, Botham took five wickets for one run as Australia fell under his spell. Then, at Old Trafford, on a dank Saturday afternoon, he played the most memorable innings of his life and one of the greatest innings ever played by an Englishman: 118 magnificent, joyful runs. Joy: that’s the word. Botham brought joy into people’s lives.

Yet it was the final Test at the Oval, which ended in a draw, that brought from him a performance no less remarkable than those from before. He bowled 89 overs in that match, flat out, continuing to run in when others withdrew with injury. That was the team man coming to the fore. Little wonder his comrades thought the world of him.

Modest, loyal, respectful to opponents, grateful to all who have lent him a hand, and supported throughout a turbulent life by Kath, his rock of a wife, and their three children, this is a cricketing hero to rank with W G Grace, Jack Hobbs, Wally Hammond and Fred Trueman. A feature in the lives of all who saw him, and a very English hero. 

This article first appeared in the 26 November 2015 issue of the New Statesman, Terror vs the State