Gove ‘weak over scallop wars’
By Steven Swinford, Henry Samuel, James Rothwell and Mike Wright BRITAIN must take back its waters after French fishermen attacked UK boats in a row over scallops, Tory Eurosceptics have told Michael Gove as they accused him of “weakness”.
Leaked Whatsapp messages reveal Tory MPS told the Environment Secretary that they felt “angry and badly let down” as they called for the Royal Navy to be put on standby to prevent future incidents.
They said French vessels should be banned from British waters after Brexit if they continue to behave in such an aggressive manner.
Mr Gove subsequently took the unusual step of intervening on the Whatsapp group in an attempt to reassure colleagues, saying he understood their concerns and that French vessels “were obviously acting illegally”.
On Tuesday, half a dozen British boats were rammed by French vessels and targeted with rocks, smoke bombs
Billions of blue blistering barnacles: it looks as though we have a Scallop War on our hands. British and French fishing boats have clashed this week off the coast of Normandy in what may transpire to be the beginning of a major stand-off. Around 40 French vessels are said to have confronted a small number of British boats over their trawling of the shellfish before the scallop season has officially begun.
While the British can legally catch scallops in these waters through much of the year, the French are limited to doing so between October and May, and fear stocks are already being depleted.
Cue surprisingly dramatic scenes on the English Channel. Stones – even flares – have been hurled. Boats have endured significant damage. Words that would make Captain Haddock’s cheeks even redder than usual have been uttered. Vastly outnumbered in the initial fray, our boats have withdrawn – at least for the moment.
How far would Britain be prepared to go to preserve our fishing rights? We like our cod and chips and pan-fried scallops just as much as the French their Coquilles St-jacques. Scallops may not be the sexiest of the bivalves (that prize naturally goes to the oyster), but they are increasingly popular on dinner-party menus, those from the English Channel being particularly prized.
To see how quickly the situation could escalate, we need only look back to the Cod Wars of the mid-20th century. National humiliation – and a dearth of decent shellfish – awaits us if this conflict follows a similar course. While the EU has urged Britain and France to reach an amicable solution, it is surely only wise that we prepare ourselves for a fresh fish war at once.
The so-called Cod Wars began in the 1950s, when Iceland extended the waters in which it was entitled to fish exclusively, thereby limiting opportunities for our fishermen. A series of confrontations ensued as British boats continued to catch cod off the Icelandic coast in defiance of the new boundaries, and Iceland strove to make its fishing zone even larger. Boats were rammed, nets were cut, and ammunition fired.
In 1958, Iceland increased its waters from four to 12 nautical miles from the coast. When the British fishermen again proved unwilling to observe the new limits, shots were issued by the Icelandic crews. Even the Royal Navy was deployed in order to protect our trawlers. The Icelandic Coast Guard ought not to have been equal to the task, but proved particularly handy with the cable-shears.
The Icelanders continued to push their fishing zone out to an impressive 200 miles, a limit the British finally conceded in 1976.
The blow could hardly have come at a worse time, falling the same year as the IMF crisis and following one of the most disruptive periods in living memory. First there was no power, now the Friday fish was under threat. And today, with Brexit looming, the national morale is particularly fragile.
Historically, scallops were employed as symbols of pilgrimage. In Caravaggio’s Supper At Emmaus, the disciple Cleopas wears a particularly large scallop shell on his chest to represent his journey. Should a Scallop War in fact ensue with France, we may well be embarking upon a new pilgrimage for our catch of the day.