Matt Cardy
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The UK's forgotten devolution movement

Cornwall wants more powers, and some are looking to Scotland and Wales for inspiration. 

“Into the 1960s both the Scottish and Welsh nationalists were considered a laughing stock, and not just by the English,” writes Matthew Engel in Engel’s England. “So it might be wise not to be too dismissive of the Cornish.”

It is not only those north of the River Tweed, or in Wales, who are hoping to gain more power from Westminster. In 2014, the Cornish were granted minority status, entitling them to the same rights as the Welsh, Scottish and Irish to be protected against discrimination. In George Osborne’s last budget, Cornwall gained greater powers over health, transport, skills and business support.

So something may be stirring in Cornwall. “In the last 15-20 years there’s been a real rekindling of interest in Cornish language, culture and Cornish history,” observes George Eustice, the Conservative MP for Camborne and Redruth.

More signs are in Cornish, and the Saint Piran's Flag is an increasingly common sight in houses and cars in the Duchy. In 2001, in response to Labour’s call for "regions" to ask for devolution, 50,000 Cornish, a tenth of the county, signed declarations in support of a National Cornish Assembly.

In Camborne I meet Steve Richardson, chair of the local party branch of Mebyon Kernow, which describes itself as the Party for Cornwall. He was also a candidate in the last general election.

There are two things immediately noticeable about Richardson: the Cornish Pirates rugby shirt he is wearing and, more surprisingly, the thick West Midlands drawl to his accent. Richardson only moved to Cornwall in 2008.

“We just wanted to get involved in the local community. I became interested in politics for the first time and that’s why I joined Mebyon Kernow,” Richardson tells me. “Mebyon Kernow is very inclusive. Quite often people think of Cornish nationalism as being about Cornwall for the Cornish – it's not, it's all about Cornwall for the people of Cornwall, wherever they're from.”

Like many in Mebyon Kernow, Richardson has watched events in Scotland closely and admits to “supporting” the yes campaign. And there are some clear parallels between Mebyon Kernow and the SNP. Both claim not to be motivated by winning greater powers, but using it for progressive ends.

“We want Cornwall to be self-determining but we also want to create social justice,” Richardson says.

Mebyon Kernow’s case for giving Cornwall greater powers rests on three parts. First, Richardson argues that Cornwall’s Celtic culture is “really distinctive” from the rest of England, and needs to be recognised as such.

“Cornwall’s a country for a start, rather than a county,” he says. “People in England just don't understand it. I never understood it till I moved here and started doing some research. Cornwall is a separate nation, just like Wales is, just like Scotland is. It’s England’s first colony in a way and we're still here under colonial rule.”

“A massive democratic deficit,” also motivates Mebyon Kernow and Richardson. “Per person we're actually massively under-represented by elected politicians”.

The problem with that argument, of course, is Mebyon are arguing for more politicians – and there is already one councillor in Cornwall for every 4,000 people. 

The third argument for greater powers rests on the Duchy's history of being left behind”, as Richardson puts it. “Cornwall has got the worst economy in the UK. We think we can do better, we think we can contribute more so why not be able to do that?” As I recently explored, if Cornwall were a country, it would be poorer than Lithuania and Hungary.

Yet, 64 years after it was formed, Mebyon Kernow is still waiting for its electoral breakthrough. The party has only four of Cornwall’s 123 councillors, even if this is more than the Greens or Ukip have in the county.

“It’s a big frustration. Part of the problem is we haven’t got the resources that the big Westminster parties have in terms of money or volunteers and members and we just don't get access to the media in any meaningful way,” Richardson says. “We need to set our own battleground to campaign in a different way and we need to be able to get our message our a lot better. Everything's stacked up in favour of the Westminster parties – and that's for us to break down.”

Perhaps Mebyon Kernow’s moment might never come. Either way, its 600 members, over one per cent of the county's population, are not easily deterred.

“We want an Assembly that's got more powers than Wales – perhaps more like the Scottish Parliament, which is a much better model,” Richardson says. “Who knows, it could be five, 10, 15 or 20 years? Look at the speed of events in Scotland – things can turn on a sixpence. You never know what's going to spark something. It could be that it never happens.” 

Tim Wigmore is a contributing writer to the New Statesman and the author of Second XI: Cricket In Its Outposts.

Newsgroup Newspapers Ltd/Published with permission
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Everything that is wonderful about The Sun’s HMS Global Britain Brexit boat

And all who sail in her.

Just when you’d suffered a storm called Doris, spotted a sad Ukip man striding around the Potteries in top-to-toe tweed, watched 60 hours of drama about the Queen being a Queen and thought Britain couldn’t get any more Brexity, The Sun on Sunday has launched a boat called HMS Global Britain.


Photo: Newsgroup Newspapers Ltd/Photos published with permission from The Sun

Taking its name from one of Theresa May’s more optimistic characterisations of the UK post-Europe (it’s better than “Red, white and blue Brexit”, your mole grants), this poor abused vessel is being used by the weekend tabloid to host a gaggle of Brexiteers captained by Michael Gove – and a six-foot placard bearing the terms of Article 50.

Destination? Bloody Brussels, of course!

“Cheering MPs boarded HMS Global Britain at Westminster before waving off our message on a 200-mile voyage to the heart of the EU,” explains the paper. “Our crew started the journey at Westminster Pier to drive home the clear message: ‘It’s full steam ahead for Brexit.’”

Your mole finds this a wonderful spectacle. Here are the best bits:

Captain Michael Gove’s rise to power

The pinnacle of success in Brexit Britain is to go from being a potential Prime Minister to breaking a bottle of champagne against the side of a boat with a fake name for a publicity stunt about the policy you would have been enacting if you’d made it to Downing Street. Forget the experts! This is taking back control!


 

“God bless her, and all who sail in her,” he barks, smashing the bottle as a nation shudders.

The fake name

Though apparently photoshopped out of some of the stills, HMS Global Britain’s real name is clear in The Sun’s footage of the launch. It is actually called The Edwardian, its name painted proudly in neat, white lettering on its hull. Sullied by the plasticky motorway pub sign reading “HMS Global Britain” hanging limply from its deck railings. Poor The Edwardian. Living in London and working a job that involves a lot of travel, it probably voted Remain. It probably joined the Lib Dems following the Article 50 vote. It doesn’t want this shit.

The poses

All the poses in this picture are excellent. Tory MP Julian Brazier’s dead-eyed wave, the Demon Headmaster on his holidays. Former education minister Tim Loughton wearing an admiral’s hat and toting a telescope, like he dreamed of as a little boy. Tory MP Andrea Jenkyns’ Tim Henman fist of regret. Labour MP Kate Hoey’s cheeky grin belied by her desperately grasping, steadying hand. Former Culture Secretary John Whittingdale’s jolly black power salute. And failed Prime Ministerial candidate Michael Gove – a child needing a wee who has proudly found the perfect receptacle.

The metaphor

In a way, this is the perfect representation of Brexit. Ramshackle, contrived authenticity, unclear purpose, and universally white. But your mole isn’t sure this was the message intended by its sailors… the idea of a Global Britain may well be sunk.

I'm a mole, innit.