A rogue bear is currently on the loose in Japan after mauling four people, triggering a manhunt that has captivated the nation. While the Japanese authorities scramble to contain the beast, one cannot help but contrast this fiasco with the efficient wildlife management we enjoy in Britain. Our own culling programmes, though controversial, ensure that such incidents are almost unheard of on these shores. The market for safety, it seems, is functioning better here than in the land of the rising sun.
Let us analyse the situation through the lens of fiscal responsibility. The cost of this bear hunt, in terms of manpower, equipment, and emergency services, will inevitably fall on the Japanese taxpayer. Meanwhile, the economic disruption caused by closed trails, evacuated villages, and lost tourism revenues is a textbook case of negative externalities. In Britain, we have long recognised that proactive investment in wildlife control yields a far better return than reactive crisis management. The Treasury should take note: a pound spent on pest control today saves ten in disaster relief tomorrow.
But the comparison does not end there. The British approach to large predators, namely the near-total absence of them, is a triumph of market forces. Our ancestors understood that land values and agricultural productivity are maximised when dangerous animals are kept at bay. The Scottish beaver reintroductions, for instance, have already led to compensation schemes for damaged crops, a clear signal that these projects carry hidden costs that taxpayers must bear. Japan would do well to consider the actuarial tables: the risk of bear attacks is far higher than the risk of, say, deer overpopulation. Yet they persist with romantic notions of coexistence.
One must also consider the monetary policy angle. The Bank of Japan's endless easing has inflated asset bubbles but done nothing to protect its citizens from real-world risks. Meanwhile, the Bank of England's cautious tightening has kept our economy stable, allowing for prudent public spending on essentials like public safety. The correlation between loose monetary policy and lax environmental management is no coincidence. When governments print money recklessly, they inevitably neglect the basics.
The British uplands, by contrast, are a model of efficient land use. Grouse moors are managed for profit, deer populations are culled to maintain woodland health, and any bear that dared show its snout would be swiftly dispatched by a gamekeeper with a shotgun. This is not cruelty; it is responsible stewardship. The Japanese bear, if it were in the UK, would have been dealt with by the National Farmers' Union and the British Association for Shooting and Conservation before it could cause any trouble.
Let us also examine the media reaction. The Japanese press has whipped up a frenzy of sympathy for the mauled victims, but where is the outrage at the systemic failure? In Britain, any such incident would prompt a parliamentary inquiry, a review of public spending on wildlife management, and a flurry of memos from the Treasury demanding efficiency savings. Our tabloids would demand the head of the Environment Secretary, and rightly so. The Japanese are simply too polite to hold their leaders accountable.
In conclusion, this bear's rampage is a stark reminder that fiscal discipline and market-based solutions extend beyond the economy. They underpin our very safety. As gilt yields fluctuate and inflation worries persist, let us at least be grateful for one thing: we have not let our wildlife management fall into the hands of sentimentalists. The City sleeps easy knowing that the only thing roaming our countryside is the occasional badger, and even that is controversial. Japan has a choice: either invest in effective culling programmes or continue to suffer the consequences of inaction. The bottom line is clear.
Alastair Thorne, Chief Financial Editor.
