In the sitting room of a fine 17th-century manor house at the heart of the
last bastion of feudalism in the Western world, Michael Beaumont sips tea
and reflects on the imminent end of half a millennium of unique island
government. Beaumont, the Seigneur of Sark, the smallest and most curious of
the four main Channel Islands, is preparing for a reckoning with democracy.
“I have mixed feelings certainly, because the system worked extremely well. I
am sorry to see it go. I always knew that if there was a change it would
come from outside.” Today the people of Sark (population 600, electorate
474) go to the polls to fully elect its Chief Pleas, or parliament, for the
first time. The Seigneur's waning power and influence will be greatly
reduced and his whole future as hereditary head of state will be uncertain.
The international media are making the crossing by boat from Guernsey to
witness the dawn of democracy on an island, just three miles by one and a
half, famous for its archaic laws and customs. With its feudal ties and lack
of cars, tarmac roads or street lights, Sark has long seemed to be a couple
of centuries behind the rest of the world.
But its election campaign has been as bitter and rancorous as anything in more
sophisticated democracies. In a community where many families have been
neighbours for 450 years and which attracts newcomers seeking shelter from
the modern world, insults pollute the air and hostility has poisoned
relationships.
“We are very depressed by it,” says a woman who asked not to be named for fear
of sparking a splenetic response from political opponents. “We have been
here for 40 years and have never seen such division, such hatred.” Steve
Cole, a recent arrival, suggests that if the landowning families obeyed the
letter of the law requiring them to keep a musket “it would be civil war”.
Everyone, including the 80-year-old Seigneur, accepts the need for change
and a poll of islanders found that a majority believed that there should be
a fully elected parliament. The source of division is the way the first
election came about, the manner in which the campaign has been conducted and
the differing views on what the island should look like.
In 1565 Helier De Carteret became the first Seigneur, granted Sark as a
fiefdom by Elizabeth I in return for 1/20th of a knight's fee and a promise
to defend the rocky, wind-blown territory that he and his heirs got to hold
in perpetuity. Under terms that endure to this day the island was divided
among 40 Tenants, who hold their land on continuous leases. These tenements
can be bought and sold but there is very little freehold land. All sides
seem to agree that land reform is needed. The Queen remains the Sovereign
and ultimate responsibility for law and order rests with the Lord
Chancellor. But Sark has its own court, is not a member of the EU and has no
income tax or national health service.
In 1993 agents of change arrived in the form of Sir Frederick and Sir David
Barclay, the billionaire brothers who own the Telegraph newspapers and the
Ritz hotel. They bought Brecqhou, an islet separated from Sark by a narrow
channel. They were required to pay the Seigneur a Treizieme, a 13th of the
purchase price.
The castle they have constructed sits massively on top of the rock, an
improbable addition to the skyline, gleaming in a brief burst of sunshine.
The Barclays began to challenge the feudal system. They took the island to
the European Court of Human Rights, which ruled against Sark's law of
primogeniture. The case prompted Sark to look at its constitution. The Privy
Council ruled this year that the Chief Pleas be reformed. The parliament,
presided over by the Seigneur, has consisted of the heads of the 40
landowning families and, since 1922, by 12 elected deputies. Now the
parliament will consist of 28 elected conseillers. There are 57 candidates,
about 12 per cent of the electorate.
In the past couple of years the Barclays have bought six of the 40 tenements.
They are pouring money into the four hotels they own, refurbishing shops on
the muddy main street and employing a lot of people.
They have not personally taken their seats in Chief Pleas but have sent
lawyers to represent them. They have pushed for greater reform and would
like to see the Seigneur become a titular head. They have pursued this
through the courts. Sark News, produced by a Barclays company, Brecqhou
Developments in the tradition of scathing 18th-century political pamphlets,
has excoriated opponents. In one recent edition a resident was described as
a “feudal Talibanist”.
“Is that the way to win hearts and minds?” asks Beaumont, who has entertained the Queen every dozen years or so and had Prince Charles to stay at La
Seigneurie. He speaks mildly but clearly bubbles with anger. “What is the
end-game when they are attacking people all the time?” He says that the
extent of his own power is overstated, saying it is “wide of the mark” to
say that his word goes. He is still the only person on the island who can
keep doves or an unspayed bitch. His supporters describe him as a great
ambassador. Reforms mean that he no longer receives a 13th of property sales
but an annual stipend of £28,000 a year. “It isn't as though it's lots of
money,” he says.
Does it worry him that supporters of the Barclay brothers could make him a
mere ceremonial figure if the Chief Pleas was under their control? “I don't
think it will be,” he says bullishly.
“The Barclays say they [care about] long-term interests. Well, we wonder. I
tend to look to the past. I don't want helicopters and electric cars and
street lights. What are we coming to, a toy town?” The universal mode of
transport on Sark remains the bicycle (horse and carts are for tourists). As
darkness falls, with just a head torch to find the way down bumpy lanes, in
lashing, gale-blown rain, this means quite an intrepid venture.
Voices of outrage aren't hard to find in front of the log fires in handsome
stone houses. There is fear and loathing on this muddy campaign trail. “I
fully support what they are doing for the economy,” says Sandra Williams,
who runs the island hall. “But I don't support the price tag: do what I do
or else we close up.”
“They are probably used to taking over companies and thought taking over a
community is just the same,” says one islander. “If they get control, they
want to turn the place into a theme park,” contends another. Or: “Another
Monaco.” The brothers are not candidates but have produced a glossy
manifesto for the future and Kevin Delaney, who runs their affairs on Sark,
is running, with other sympathisers.
Delaney, a personable Essex carpenter who has worked for the brothers for 20
years, oversaw their refurbishment of the Ritz. He takes me to see builders
renovating hotels, decorators tarting up a greenhouse and spruced up shops.
It all looks pretty tasteful. “A lot of people don't like change and I
understand that,” he says. His approach is “evolution not revolution. If we
wanted to build big hotels we would go to Milton Keynes”. He envisions 100
or so Barclays-owned hotel rooms. They currently have about 75. He says a
decision on whether to develop a golf course will not be taken for years.
The idea that they are trying to take over the island is nonsense, he says,
because they had turned down the chance to buy other land. “I don't buy into
exchanging one family for another. But if we are, then we are exchanging for
a family that is willing to invest £5 million a year. Ask what he [the
Seigneur] has contributed.”
His message to the electorate appears to be that if they vote in opponents of
the Barclays who then make life difficult for the brothers, the money will
dry up. “I worry about the people that I employ. If there is a Government in
place that is not conducive to investment then investment goes away.”
The Barclays' defence is that they don't want electric cars, just electric
farm vehicles that would be preferable to noisy tractors. They don't want
tarmac roads or street lights, but would like a road surface that reduced
dust and mud. The issue of helicopters has become totemic of the battle. The
Barclays want a helipad for emergencies and “limited” tourist access. The
opposition to this, says their lawyer Gordon Dawes, is “typical of the
bloody mindedness”. Dawes says that the Barclays are motivated only by
affection - “they are aware that Sark's charm is its fortune” - and a desire
to ensure the autonomy of Sark and Brequou in the face of creeping attempts
by Guernsey to take power. Those who have been running Sark “had no idea how
to protect their autonomy.”
The brothers want Sark “to be economically viable and run responsibly, rather
than taken over by people who have no idea how to run a mini state”. They
will press for more reform, including the reduction of the role of the
Seigneur, who will continue to sit in Chief Pleas, although he won't have a
vote.
One supporter of the Barclays says “it has become personal” with the Seigneur
and speculates that these two self-made men are appalled at the idea that a
man can inherit power. Some feel that the whole experience of living on Sark
has been spoilt by the acrimony, and they object to being told what to do by
people who infrequently visit the island.
Others appear to have got matters completely out of proportion, comparing the
Barclays to the CIA and wartime German occupiers. A man married to a woman
whose family has been on the island since Elizabethan time, says that “you
see the rest of the world and the rest of the world is mad. Since the
Barclays arrived we are getting the social diseases you get in cities:
people dressing in Armani. Before everybody dressed from a jumble sale”.
What has upset people more than anything is Sark News. The editor, one Mrs
S.Oliver, does not live on the island and declines via e-mail to say who she
is. Dawes says that the suspicions of some islanders are unfounded: she does
exist.
The newsletter's attacks on individuals seem an eccentric way of wooing
voters. Dawes says that the brothers tried “the gently gently, softly softly
approach. It was spurned, rebuffed, ignored. There was no reasoning with
these people”. He says that the tone of Sark News “sometimes arguably does
go too far but it's born of frustration at things not changing”.
One of those lampooned is the Seneschal. He is the island's judge, coroner,
ex-officio president of the parliament, returning officer for the election
and known to most people simply as Reg. Reg Guille is a former colonel who
was in the news last week after the Court of Appeal ruled that the
Seneschal's roles as both a member of Chief Pleas and a judge did not comply
with human rights law. The new parliament will change this.
“We would like to get back to being a peaceful little backwater and not being
taken to court all the time over issues that should be able to be settled
within the island,” says Guille, his military moustache betraying the merest
twitch of irritation. “I am disappointed that Sir Frederick and Sir David
[Barclay], who so want democracy for us, have not put themselves up for
election.” The Barclays' lawyer says that it is impractical for them to
travel to Sark to stand or vote.
John Donnelly, a Tenant who supports the Barclays and is seeking election,
says: “We are divided by a common objective.” That is to “be able to enjoy
the island, free from too much development. This is a small community.
People here have very fixed ideas”. He has been on the island 32 years and
says there have been other bitter divisions, unrelated to the Barclays.
“It's an island. People get into camps.” Steve Cole, a moderate voice, says
that “families are divided. There are grandparents who won't read Sark News
and grandchildren who work for the Barclays. Fault lies on both sides”. He
will vote for a mix of candidates.
Others won't vote at all. In the Bel Air Inn, owned by the Barclays, John
Donnelly schmoozes punters. One fisherman, whose family has been on the
island since the 16th century, says: “I'm not voting for anybody. The whole
thing is completely overblown. It's become a propaganda war.” Donnelly looks
crestfallen. “I just bought you a pint,” he says.
