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It is faintly absurd that an epoch-defining political shift, such as Brexit, actually all came down to a shouted exchange over the rails of a couple of bobbing boats in Jersey’s harbour.
After more than six years of tortuous diplomatic wrangling throughout the capital cities of Europe, and following the demise of two UK Prime Ministers, it was the words of a Deputy of St. Lawrence, shouted in French at a socially-distanced posse of Normandy fishers, which kept the flame of Brexit flickering.
This week, the fishing focus moves into the corridors of power with the European Commission alleging that Jersey has broken the whole Brexit trade deal – and Jersey alleging that the French have done exactly the same thing.
Both deny it.
Pictured: images from last week's protest.
With Boris sending in the Navy, sections of the national media trying to revisit Trafalgar and one local resident apparently taking it on himself to taunt and then repel the “invaders", how did Jersey somehow become the flashpoint in a major diplomatic stand-off over a topic as explosive as Brexit?
How did shots of a lone musketeer, standing on the ramparts of Elizabeth Castle in full historical costume while he apparently discharged his weapon, end up being played on repeat on international Tv stations - and importantly, all over France, where they have unhelpfully become a symbol of intransigent British jingoism.
Perhaps the word “absurd” doesn’t quite do the events of last week justice.
In the midst of all that heat, there are people who actually make their day-to-day living from fishing, in Jersey and in Normandy, who feel insulted, let down and deeply fearful for their futures.
Clearly, this process hasn’t worked for them, on either side of the water.
Pictured: Jersey's senior politicians speak to the UK Prime Minister on the day of the protest.
One of the effects of Brexit has been to re-route local communications channels around the capitals, and officials, across Europe.
As an example, there is now a ‘UKSIA’ (UK Single Issuing Authority) which receives applications from the European Commission, on behalf of EU Members, for a licence to fish in Jersey waters. Those applications are then sent on down to Jersey to determine, and issue the licence. If the fisher doesn’t agree with the details in that licence – which has been one of the major points of contention – they are advised to “inform (their) flag state (i.e. France) fisheries authority immediately” – and so the issue goes back around the European communications loop.
Is it small wonder that forcing what is essentially a local licensing issue around a pan-European bureaucracy – particularly when dealing with such an emotive subject as fishing – was always going to result in some very upset people, critical detail and nuance being lost and fingers being pointed in every direction.
That bureaucracy is now looking on, bemused, as livelihoods are lost, mouthing, “Well, you should have filled in the right form!”
Pictured: Jersey's fishing fleet is currently not allowed to land its catch in Normandy.
Against that backdrop, it is ironic that the closure of local representative offices, such as happened past week, is only likely to make communication worse, rather than better.
As Express has argued, Jersey needs to stand firm in its position, and do whatever it can to communicate its fair requirements – and crucially its motives – calmly, and with understanding, to the Normandy fishers - using shorter, informal, channels if needs be. Giving more time for compliance is the obvious short-term solution which would both enforce, and de-escalate.
And in the meantime, provide support to Jersey’s fishers who have been sucked into the first test-case of Brexit - one that on the evidence to date, the international bureaucracy has spectacularly failed to resolve.
