Britain’s standoff with Brussels over fishing isn’t worth compromising a Brexit deal

If asked to choose between Europe and the open sea, Churchill said famously, Britain would always choose the open sea, and Boris Johnson and Michael Gove are of the same mind – except when it comes to fish.

The British Government wants access for British goods to the EU Single Market. In addition, it wants the City of London’s relationship with the Eurozone to continue beyond the Brexit transition period. Indeed, it has called repeatedly for a Single Market in financial services that would allow the Square Mile to proceed more easily as Europe’s banker.

But when it comes to fish, there can be no common market. On 1 January, the UK’s territorial waters are set to become an exclusive reserve, administered by HM Government on behalf of the British people, policed and patrolled by the Royal Navy.

The fact that a large percentage of the “British” catch is destined for the European market is, apparently, neither here nor there. In the event that the current trade talks between London and Brussels come to nothing, EU importers will in future have to pay tariffs on any fish they buy from British trawlers. And if they don’t like it, they can lump it. In the meantime, French trawlermen, along with those of Spain, Denmark, the Netherlands and Belgium, who think they can carry on plundering Britain’s soon-to-be enclosed sea, had better start looking for another line of work.

So much for the British position, declaimed to a chorus of Land of Hope and Glory. The French position, championed by Emmanuel Macron, is no less stubborn. In essence, he wishes the current system, as regulated by Brussels, to remain in place, as if Brexit had not happened. France argues that its fishermen have been active in the Channel and the North Sea for centuries – long before there was any notion of territorial waters – and that for the last 47 years the seas in question have been held in common by what is now the European Union. For Britain to deny or seriously restrict access to what generations have come to regard as a shared resource is, in the view of the French, unjustified and unjustifiable.

Cue the Marseillaise.

Both are right. Britain may wish to join the Trans-Pacific Partnership on the far side of the world, but, closer to home, the seas around its coast are an obvious national resource. British fishermen regard the seas around them as a part of their heritage.

The trouble is, the French are no different. When a trawler pulls out of the harbour in Boulogne, within sight of the White Cliffs of Dover, its skipper doesn’t regard his vessel as an unlawful intruder into British waters. He and his crew will have fished the same stretches of sea for their entire careers, as, in most cases, did their fathers and grandfathers before them.

At this point, it should be noted that the dispute is far from being purely Anglo-French in nature. Consider the following statistics, released two years ago by the British Government:

In 2017, of the fish landed by EU boats from North Atlantic waters (which here includes the North Sea and the Irish Sea), 35 per cent by quantity and 23 per cent by value were from the UK sector. Meanwhile, the Danish fleet accounted for 237,000 tonnes of fish, valued at £90 million; the Dutch 177,000 tonnes, worth £92 million; and the French 120,000 tonnes, to a value of £171 million.

Mackerel and sole, in which the French specialise, fetch the highest prices. The Danes, like the Norwegians, prefer herring.

In the same year, the British fishing fleet, some 40 per cent of which is based in Scotland, landed some 581,000 tonnes from its home waters, to a value of £811 million. A further 94,000 tonnes, valued at £88 million, were caught in the territories of other EU member states, with landings from Norwegian waters bringing up the rear.

If Britain closes off its waters to the EU, reciprocal barriers will go up against UK trawlers. Only if the home fleet greatly expands its catch in its own territorial waters and subsequently, in spite of tariffs, significantly increases sales in the European market will the game be worth the candle.

One thing we can say for sure: if, come 1 January, Britain and Europe begin to trade on WTO terms, with the UK in sole control [no pun intended] over its territorial seas, the French, and quite possibly the Dutch and the Danes, will not take it lying down. In defence of their livelihoods, trawlers from Boulogne, Dieppe, Lorient and other smaller harbours will set sail, armed in all probability with rocks, billhooks and flares. There will be confrontations, and in the event that these turn serious the Navy will have to be called in, risking a response from La Royale, its French equivalent.

How a commercial market in fish is supposed to thrive in such conditions is beyond me. Perhaps the British can be persuaded to eat more fish, but beyond a certain point, this seems unlikely. At the same time, the French, and European, appetite for fish is not about to disappear. An accommodation must surely be reached, requiring compromise on both sides.

Macron has chosen to take a stand for three reasons: pride (never to be discounted when the Union flag goes up against the Tricolore); regard for his political fortunes in the north and northwest of the country, on which his hopes of re-election may turn; and because he hopes his refusal to give ground could make it more difficult for the UK to demand an extended role in Europe for the City of London.

The UK in turn has chosen to draw a red line down the middle of the Channel and the North Sea. Why? For much the same reasons, including the hope that by holding its waters hostage it can incline Brussels towards a more relaxed view of state subsidies and other level playing field issues, leading perhaps to a last-minute trade deal.

In strict economic terms, fisheries are of only marginal importance. The numbers employed on both sides of the Channel have fallen sharply in the last 25 years. In 2017, there were just 11,692 registered fishermen in the UK, not all of them full-time. Half of the total, moreover, were based in Scotland, where a vote for independence would reduce the size of “British” waters by more than 50 per cent.

Meanwhile technology has advanced considerably, allowing larger trawlers with smaller crews to hoover up ever greater quantities of fish, which are then processed by a smaller number of onshore facilities. Aware of this, the European Commission is already engaged in urgent discussions over quotas and stock levels, which, in theory, should see a reduction in the overall catch over the next 20 years.

My solution to the present impasse is simple, and therefore impractical. The British Government should after 1 January be regarded as the sovereign power in respect of the UK’s territorial waters. Having consulted widely, with Brussels, Paris and other interested parties, a newly-empowered fisheries authority, operating out of Whitehall, should decide who gets to catch what, giving preference, within reason, to its own citizens.

Rival boats from the EU would be granted renewable licenses to continue fishing in British waters, but at a reduced rate, graduating down (as the Government has suggested) from existing quotas to new levels that, after, say, ten years, bottom out at three-quarters of what is currently allowed.

Licenses would have to be paid for and would be issued subject to an acceptance of the UK’s legal authority. UK boats would be subject to equivalent deals, applied by Brussels, should they wish to fish outside their own waters. Tariffs would depend on the nature of any trade deal agreed between now and November. Good faith would be vital.

Will this, or something like it, be adopted by London and Paris? Possibly, and possibly not. The fisheries dispute is one of those squabbles that, rather like a bad marriage, is always about much more than whatever it is that is complained of. Neither side, one imagines, expects the other to concede defeat. Part of the trick will be to convince those involved that a long-running feud will only end in losses for both sides.

The other will be to persuade political leaders in London and Paris, including Boris Johnson and Emmanuel Macron, that in the middle of Covid-19 and with the full impact of Brexit about to be unleashed, the last thing we all need is an outbreak of the mackerel wars.