We Love The National Forestry Strategy… But The Government Is At War With Itself
We love Scotland’s Forestry Strategy because, on paper, it is exactly what this moment demands. Here is the full paper for download. We can’t celebrate it enough.
It recognises that forests are not just timber factories but long‑lived, living infrastructure that should deliver climate resilience, biodiversity, community wellbeing and sustainable economic growth over the long term. It talks about the right tree in the right place for the right purpose, about better use of wood, about integrating forestry into a wider land‑use vision. It is thoughtful, modern and, crucially, it gives investors and practitioners a clear sense of direction.
For those of us actually trying to deliver that vision on the ground, the strategy reads like permission to get on with the job.
It gives confidence to back diversification away from brittle monocultures. It supports investment in better silviculture, better processing and genuinely circular, high‑value uses of wood. It values community benefit and public engagement. In other words, it tells serious forestry businesses, “If you do this well, Scotland wants you here.”
The problem is what happens next.
Across the country, investors and operators who align themselves explicitly with the national strategy are encountering a pattern of real‑world obstruction that makes no obvious sense if the strategy is taken at face value. Projects that increase woodland cover, improve degraded plantations or embed biodiversity and circular economy thinking run into delays, contradictions and shifting goalposts. Local and national decision‑making structures sometimes appear out of sync not just with one another, but with the Scottish Government’s own published objectives.
This is the paradoxical governance conflict at the heart of the current system. At national level, Scotland says it wants more forests, healthier ecosystems and resilient rural economies. At the coalface, however, planning decisions, regulatory practice and political signalling can send the opposite message. Forestry is urged to expand and to modernise, but when projects attempt to do so in line with the strategy, they find themselves tangled in resistance and scrutiny that seem disconnected from the policy intent.
From an investor’s perspective, the signal is deeply confusing. A strategy is supposed to reduce uncertainty: to show where a country wants to go, and to reassure long‑term capital that policy and practice will broadly pull in the same direction. When the written strategy says “go” and parts of the system say “stop” or “not here, not now, not like that” for reasons that are opaque or inconsistent, the result is political risk. This is not the healthy, predictable form of scrutiny that keeps standards high. It is a pattern of friction that makes it harder to back exactly the sort of projects the strategy claims to need.
The timing could hardly be worse. Climate impacts are accelerating. Nature loss is visible. Rural economies are under strain. We need more woodland creation, more thoughtful restructuring of legacy plantations and more investment in the science, skills and infrastructure that make multi‑benefit forestry possible. Instead, energy is being absorbed by avoidable conflict, appeals, legal wrangling and mixed messages.
None of this means the strategy itself is flawed. In many respects, it is one of the more progressive forestry frameworks in Europe. The issue is the gap between what is said centrally and what is permitted, encouraged or blocked locally and operationally. Governance has not yet caught up with the ambition on the page. Some agencies and authorities embrace the strategy’s spirit; others default to risk‑averse interpretations or to siloed priorities that treat forestry as a problem to contain rather than an opportunity to shape.
Bridging this gap is not optional if Scotland is serious about its stated goals. It requires political leadership that insists on coherence between strategy and practice, and that rewards regulators and planners for enabling good projects while still weeding out poor ones. It requires clear guidance that turns high‑level objectives into predictable rules of thumb on the ground. It requires a willingness to listen to those investing in forests not as lobbyists seeking favours, but as partners trying to operationalise a shared national direction.
We love the National Forestry Strategy because it articulates a future in which forests help Scotland thrive environmentally, socially and economically.
But that future will not arrive by itself. Unless Scotland resolves the paradox in its governance – the clash between stated ambition and obstructive practice – the strategy risks becoming another well‑written document that investors read with enthusiasm and then quietly set aside. If we want more forests and much healthier ecosystems, we must align what we approve, incentivise and defend in public with the vision we have already put into words.
