Under the EU’s £1 billion inter-regional agenda, Interreg, Brussels is seeking to redraft the map of Europe, forging new regions from discrete areas of land, seemingly at whim. Most recently, in the wake of plans to rebrand the English Channel ‘the Anglo-French pond’, the EU has declared that southern England in fact belongs to a cross-border French region, ‘Arc Manche’.

Originally contrived some years ago, Arc Manche combines the northern French regions, stretching from Calais to Bretagne, with UK Councils in Kent, Sussex, Hampshire and Devon. Its existence had long relied on informal cooperation across a web of local authorities in each country, however the ‘region’ was granted its own special assembly in 2005. Intended to enhance the visibility of the network, the Arc Manche Assembly includes representatives from both UK local authorities and French councils, and has been led by French Socialist, Alain Le Vern, since its inauguration.

According to its own mission statement, the purpose of the Assembly is to: “promote the Channel area as a specific and a coherent entity for territorial co-operation at European Union level and to gain recognition from the European Institutions.” This is to be achieved by “joint actions and projects”, delivered through partnerships between both sides of the Channel.

That this conglomeration is in no way “a specific and a coherent entity” beyond the fantasies of the Brussels bureaucracy has failed to dampen the EU’s regional ambitions. Unfortunately, it is these very officials who control the funds required to translate this illusion into reality; and they are not afraid to make significant financial commitments, at our expense, to realise their vision.

For example, £7.6 million has been devoted to a ‘cross-Channel’ cycle lane network, due to be completed by 2013. The plan involves a series of trails leading into French ports and then reappearing on the English coastline, as though to eliminate this aquatic divide altogether. In addition, £2 million will go towards a contemporary art project, intended to provide “a series of unique experiences and encounters” and the opportunity for “cultural exchange”. And, in one of its more extraordinary schemes, a circus of clowns will tour the region, at a cost of £5.5 million, with acts including ‘Barricade’, a circus study inspired by the theme of scaling walls…

It may well be that some of the objectives of such projects are entirely laudable, yet this does not justify their pursuit by an obscure EU construction. If there is some value in these plans, they should be justified to taxpayers by institutions that operate with real accountability, and at a regional level that is familiar and meaningful to its residents, whether English or French.

Restructuring the delivery of these programmes would also help to identify, and possibly eliminate, more ominous elements of the current EU scheme. For instance, the cycle lane proposals demand harmonised road markings and signage between the English and French sides, and it is the regional officials who select the art and culture worthy of funding. Moreover, officials have commissioned a ‘transnational emblem’ for Interreg; a “series of concentric circles symbolising the flow of projects and stakeholders” across “so many bridges between territories”. Rigorous promotion of the logo, denounced by one Whitehall aide as “a bid to subvert the St George’s flag and the Union Jack”, is a prerequisite for each of the groups receiving funding from the Assembly.

Communities Secretary, Eric Pickles, has decried the Arc Manche agenda as an attempt “to wipe England off the map”, pledging to “stop this waste and protect England’s national and local identities from EU empire building”. Yet the regionalisation of Europe is not set to stop at the Channel. Further projects are lurking in the pipeline, such as a links between Western Spain and Portugal and along the Italian coast, and even non-member states Norway, Belarus and Switzerland have been engulfed by this European “vanity project”. As UKIP leader, Nigel Farage, laments: “The Arc Manche is the perfect Euro project. Nobody wants it, nobody called for it and nobody knows what it’s for.”

Yesterday saw reports indicating that as little as a third of the British electorate may vote in Thursday’s referendum. Evidence on the ground (also known as conversations with friends over the bank holiday) reflects this low figure with respondents stating: ‘I forgot to apply for a postal vote’ or ‘I threw my postal vote away by mistake’ and even ‘I would but polls are not open at a convenient time’. Aside from such excuses and a plethora of others, there were honest and brazen admissions of ‘I just don’t care’. Will the above-quoted figure prove to be correct, and if it is will the UK electorate have sunk to new levels of apathy?

The outlook is not too promising if general election turnout proves to be a bellwether for popular political engagement. Turnout levels have been generally falling since the 1950s, and this for the most important political decision the country has to face. There are few outside of politics who attach a similar measure of importance to Thursday’s plebiscite and reports indicate that turnout could be as low as half of that usually seen in recent general elections. What about other elections and referendums, what do turnouts in these tell us?

At first it would appear that referenda are not the nadirs of political engagement that the forecast for the impending referendum suggests. In the majority of referenda held in the UK, including the only other UK-wide referendum (that of 1975), turnout was, on average, respectable at around 56 per cent. However this average ignores the fact that in the most recent referendum, in Wales earlier this year, only 35 per cent of the electorate turned out to vote. Furthermore all other referenda concerned national political self-determination and the devolution of (relatively) extensive political powers; it could be due to this that the majority witnessed relatively high turnouts. Supporting this hypothesis is the Greater London Authority Referendum held in 1998, which did not witness a significant transfer of political power and so saw only 35 per cent of Londoners turn out to vote. Further worrying portents are evident in local election turnout figures, the 2009 local elections attracting the attention of only 35 per cent of the electorate. This provides a warning to those who hope that by holding some local elections simultaneously with Thursday’s referendum, turnout will be increased.

If the omens concerning Thursday’s turnout are not good, what are the ramifications of this for the result itself? Ironically it looks likely that a minority of the electorate will make a decision on an issue that affects the majority. This would be particularly unusual as many other countries, including the US, impose significant hurdles in front of any constitutional change, such as a ‘supermajority’ (two-thirds of voters in both houses). Even the UK has previously required that 40% of the electorate must vote for change for the result to be binding (something the House of Lords tried, but failed, to impose for this plebiscite).

The esteemed constitutional expert Vernon Bogdanor has argued that if only a minority vote, any decision resulting from such an ‘illegitimate’ referendum would itself be open to serious criticism and could even lead to a ‘constitutional crisis’. The on-going political battle between the ‘yes’ and ‘no’ camps could in fact be a prelude to the real political battle that develops after the result. For many people AV is a half-hearted reform, a view shared one suspects by many supporters of the ‘yes’ campaign. It would be ironic if such a widely ignored vote sparked a far more important debate about the role of direct democracy and plebiscites in British politics.

The facts of the case are simple. The applicant, Christopher Donaldson, was serving a 12 year sentence in HMP Maghaberry. As a republican prisoner, he was held in a segregated wing and had contact with other prisoners only in the visiting hall. On Easter Sunday 2008, Donaldson affixed a white Easter lily to his clothing, in commemoration of the republicans lost during the 1916 Easter Rising. When he refused to remove the lily, he was charged with disobeying a lawful order and given three days of cellular confinement.

The applicant claimed that the Northern Ireland Prison Service had violated his right to freely express his political beliefs and cultural identity (ECHR Art 10) and his right not to be discriminated against in his enjoyment of this right (ECHR Art 14 taken with Art 10).

Having progressed (albeit via a somewhat unconventional route) through the domestic court system, the Court of Appeal dismissed the Donaldson case on its merits. Dissatisfied with this decision, Donaldson went to Strasbourg. The ECtHR judgement appears to be profoundly well-reasoned. Dexterously striking the subtle balance between independent scrutiny and respect for the domestic ruling, the Court readily affords the UK the wide margin of appreciation the country was so palpably denied in Hirst.

Or at least it seems to. On a more careful reading, the supposedly self-denying ordinance of the Court is somewhat more tenuous. Far from acting with appropriate deference to the national decision maker, it seems that the ECtHR’s own view of the substantive issues conveniently coincide with those of the domestic court. The Strasbourg court “readily accepts” that the measure pursues a legitimate aim and largely echoes the finding of the Court of Appeal that the restriction was “a very minimal interference”, as prisoners could wear the flower in their cells. Similarly, both courts held that contact between segregated and other prisoners could not be excluded, and in any case there would always be contact with members of staff.

Moreover, the Easter lily emblem is so tightly wed to the very specific and complex history of Northern Ireland, it would be nigh on impossible to justly decide this case without a nuanced understanding of the very specific cultural context. The Court itself accepts that “in Northern Ireland many emblems are…inextricably linked to the conflict” and “have many levels of meaning which can only fully be understood by persons with a full understanding of their historical background” – an understanding which a Strasbourg-based panel, composed of judges from countries as diverse and distant as the Slovak Republic and Moldova (the presence of the UK representative Bratza notwithstanding) would be hard-pressed to claim for themselves. Indeed, the Court accepts largely without question the expert guidance of the Northern Ireland Equality Commission (ECNI).

This raises two main concerns. Firstly, it appears that the ECtHR will bend to national authority only when its hand is effectively forced by the facts. On a more constitutional line, it is paradoxical that a court which refuses to cede to the will of a sovereign Parliament (acting within the margin of appreciation), will grant such a high degree of deference to an unelected public body. This is not to dispute that the ECNI is best placed to offer guidance on this particular issue. However, national sensitivity should involve not only consideration of a country’s culture and history, but also respect for a country’s democratic decision making process. The Court must recognise that a democratically elected legislature “reflects political social and cultural values” no less than a non-departmental Commission.

The facts of Donaldson made consideration of the country’s peculiar history unavoidable in a way the facts of Hirst did not. It was for this reason the Court ostensibly defers to the domestic ruling in the more recent case. The European Court acted appropriately and proficiently in Donaldson, and full credit must be given for that. However, with ECtHR President, Jean-Paul Costa, lambasting the UK for its reticence to toe the Strasbourg line, it seems inevitable that fears of judicial imperialism will not readily be extinguished.

Firstly, Ms Crook gravely errs in her assumption that the MPs tabling the debate would respond to the question, “Does it matter if we ignore the ECHR?” with a resolute “no”. There is no attempt to “ignore the ECHR”. Drafted in the wake of the Second World War, the European Convention is a sound abstraction of the need to protect human rights and freedoms. The vote on Thursday is in no way a move by Westminster MPs to bypass these fundamental principles; it is, however, a boldly determined effort to resist the creeping expansionism of the ECHR’s supposed guardian, the European Court of Human Rights.

Reframing Ms Crook’s question, these MPs are indeed acutely sensible to the fact that whether we choose to ignore the European Court’s interpretation of the ECHR is of critical importance. Over 60 years ago our politicians signed up to the European Convention on Human Rights. In so doing, they did not sign away the sovereignty of Parliament. There is a world of difference between compliance with the Convention – which MPs realise does still matter a “great deal” – and submitting to the will of a distant, power-hungry judicial dynamo. It is Ms Crook, not the MPs, who has missed the “fundamental point”.

In a statement that demonstrates the totality with which she fails to grasp the pertinent issue, Ms Crook asks: “On what legal authority could we question our own government when Parliamentary sovereignty fails to prevent our government from banning homosexuals from serving in the armed forces?” If we bend to Strasbourg as Ms Crook invites us to do, it is this very principle of Parliamentary sovereignty that will be so badly diluted as to risk becoming irreparably inert.

Thursday’s motion does not seek to enable MPs to pick and choose those rights they are happy to uphold and those more inconvenient rights they would rather dismiss. The debate is no longer whether or not prisoners should have the right to vote; it is whether or not we want our elected representatives to be able to make this decision on our behalf. There is a crucial distinction between the commitment of the signatories to the Council of Europe to uphold universal rights principles, and the laudable reluctance of the sovereign UK Parliament to cede to the will of the unelected and insatiably expansionist behemoth that the European Court of Human Rights threatens to become.

Much of the “moral authority” that the UK has earned “in international law and diplomacy” stems directly from its unique and longstanding constitutional traditions and Ms Crook is absolutely right when she says that, on Thursday, “the resolve of the UK Parliament will be tested”. We must now hope that our Parliament has sufficient resolve to defend the bedrock of this constitution and realises that compliance with this principle does indeed still matter a great deal.

I was kindly invited to tour the mill and experience its quintessential British manufacturing. This blog post details my expedition and the process of creating flannel. As a rare treat, pictures are also included.

The history of Fox Bros has been well charted elsewhere and needs not be discussed here. Suffice it to say, the takeover earlier this year by Deborah Meaden (of Dragons’ Den fame) and Douglas Cordeaux (the new Managing Director) has begun to bring a turnaround of fortunes.

The Tonedale mill is unassuming enough from the outside, but on entering, it is akin to arriving in an ‘Aladdin’s cave’ steeped in history and heritage.  To the immediate left is a room full of the finished article – row on row of different cloths ready to be made into whatever a customer fancies.  There are also displays of the great and good who were Fox Bros’ customers, an enviable list that includes Churchill and his wartime pinstripe as well as Cary Grant and his iconic flannels, not to mention the Duke of Windsor. This display room moonlights as the office of an ex-Savile Row tailor who continues his work directly out of Fox Bros. With a countless choice of cloths onsite, it is easy to see why.

A few steps beyond this is where the magic itself happens. Magic is the right way to describe it because it’s only on entering that you see just how small the operation actually is: Fox Bros employ just twenty people, something that initially appears at odds with the worldwide renown the company holds. However, on examining the processes it is easier to understand that size and renown do not have to be linked.

The intimate size of the mill, which has eight looms, means that it can create entirely bespoke fabrics, coloured to the customer’s own tastes before being delivered to their tailor for the ultimate in unique clothing. As I pass by the counter where the outgoing fabric is being inspected, Douglas Cordeaux, who kindly gave me a guided tour, points out a particular pattern that is destined for a well-known writer and commentator. He feels that the company’s small size provides a level of flexibility that few other mills can provide to the same degree, and he explains that the writer in question has been using Fox Bros for some time.

The machinery used in the mill is around 45 years old, which Cordeaux explained is down to choice rather than lack of capital investment. These older machines are slow enough for the Fox Bros to maintain its famed quality without many faults. Moreover, rivals in other countries have sacrificed quality for speed when purchasing modern looms that can churn out fabric four to five times faster than the rarefied Fox looms. Fox’s emphasis on quality has its own reward, as the company has little competition in the niche they are pursuing, a massive boon that has allowed it to fly in the face of the Primark effect.

When faults do appear, or the loom stops, the resulting fabric is meticulously checked by employees with extensive knowledge and experience of working with fabric. These are skills that cannot be easily taught but are built up over time. As such, Cordeaux argues that they should be considered artisans rather than mere workers. The effort that goes into the process is clear to see and, as I watch, a lady examines the grey cloth with a magnifying glass and tweezers, picking up lose threads that are impossible for me to see. To my inexperienced eyes, there was nothing wrong at all with the cloth, but Fox Bros’ reputation is built on providing the best quality, whether the customer knows it or not.

The fault checking is by no means the only human interaction with the process. Indeed, Fox’s approach is critically based on the skill of the workforce. The threading process is an impressive task as it required all ends to be strung through eyelets, a painstaking process. The end result though speaks for itself: a quality of woollen cloth unmatched by anywhere else in the world.

However, this was not the finished article – it still felt slightly rough to the touch.  As a result of the general decline of the English textiles industry, whilst the final finishing  used to happen onsite,  cloth now has to be shipped to Huddersfield for the lustring and other processes required before being returned and then dispatched from Somerset to the  customer. Cordeaux acknowledges this is the height of logistical inefficiency, but argues there is no other solution. He hopes that perhaps in time, if demand really picks up, the finishing can be relocated in the South.

Since taking over, Cordeaux and Meaden have diversified the products of the mill, which, while still based on wool, now produces more than flannels and materials for clothes. A recent venture has been into the market for household textiles, using unwanted wool to produce coverings for sofas. In the past, coarse wool was simply burnt as waste, but this recent green innovation avoids this. The market for this previously unwanted material is picking up, and a roll of it was being chalked up for inspection and cutting in front of me. It does indeed feel slightly more rugged than the sublimely smooth finished wool Fox Bros now produces. But this material can be both useful as well as aesthetically pleasing – for something likely to experience more wear, the roughness adds vital strength.

Fox Bro’s diversifications, along with its new partnerships with the like of Jack Wills, are a show of strength from a company and industry that was weakening until very recently. Moreover, Fox’s developments prove that these manufacturers are not out of date as some would claim. Instead, they are rapidly gaining a new following from those who are concerned by the loss of British heritage industries. Jack Wills for instance prides itself on its self-proclaimed ‘fabulously British clothing’ and is now putting its money where its mouth is by providing Fox Bros with the volume of mass orders it has not seen in recent years. As such, Cordeaux is looking to invest in two modern looms, though not of the industrial sort that volume producers rely on. These ones will produce cloth faster and therefore slightly cheaper, adding a new price range to their already extensive collection.

Does the future appear bright for Fox Bros? Yes and no. While demand is clearly rising, the small workforce is a noticeably aging one. Fox Bros’ competitive advantage is based on the experience of its staff, but new blood is not forthcoming. Cordeaux admits that, despite offering an apprenticeship, finding applicants is hard. He feels that while there is a continuous cohort wanting to enter the industry, they all take courses in design and expect someone else to make the cloth for them, as such there is little enthusiasm to learn the practical skills that an apprenticeship at Fox Bros would teach.

It is this lack of interest from prospective employees that is now the greatest threat to the British textiles industry, rather than competition from abroad. It is a problem that stems from our society’s culture, which frowns on manual labour and vocational training. In addition to this, Cordeaux feels the funds for apprenticeships are misdirected as they concentrate on large companies like Rolls-Royce whilst small ones, such as Fox Bros, miss out. This, Cordeaux thinks, may be a result of complacency and the assumption that all is well because of the high profile of the British textile and clothing market.

There is a high chance that David Cameron and many of his ministers own Fox Bros suits and have the logo stitched into their jackets – perhaps they should look at it and think about where the material came from. Visiting the mill was an eye-opening one – Fox Bros, like many of our greatest British clothing labels is a small operation, resilient but vulnerable. It is testament to British manufacturing industry, and more acknowledgement of its value is required from Government. I would encourage them, or indeed any reader, to visit to the mill and appreciate the continuation of an artisan trade and the resulting materials first-hand. You never know, you may find something for your next jacket…

Further photos are available on Civitas’ new Flickr feed.

With thanks to Fox Brothers.

History is a powerful thing; and this is especially true of the history taught to young children who accept what they are told at face value. Being informed at primary school that the Industrial Revolution was greatest thing to happen to Britain since the Magna Carta is a hard lesson to unlearn later, especially  when it is presented as fact rather than opinion. Schama’s new position will give him huge influence over the mindset of children, but to present  a single person’s interpretation of Britain’s past as  absolute would be plain wrong.

Schama is probably best known for his TV series ‘A History of Britain’ and the importance is in the name: it wasn’t called ‘A History’ for nothing. The professor from Columbia admitted quietly at the time of its production that the programme was his personal interpretation and that there were of course alternative views.  This declaration is critical, and yet greatly at risk of  being overlooked by the Conservatives and the academic himself if the syllabus is set by Schama alone.

Schama should have stuck to the principles he had 10 years ago and declined the Conservatives’ offer or at least ensured the involvement of many other academics who, whilst perhaps not as famous as the TV historian, are highly qualified in their relevant subjects. A team of great minds, all contributing their own knowledge to the project and overseen by Schama could be a good solution to produce a beneficial outcome.

Simon Schama’s skill is making history accessible,  but if he tries to cover the whole of British history, his syllabus would only  achieve a cursory glance and cover obvious points.  It is true that the lesson plans will be for pre-GCSE students, not those taking degrees, but shouldn’t their basic knowledge of Britain’s past go beyond the basics of our island story and delve into deeper issues? It would do no good to state that the Civil War merely happened without actually considering why, but Schama’s whistle-stop history tour may give no time for this. Having a shallow appreciation for Britain’s history is almost as bad as having none at all.

Picking famous individuals to prop up political regimes is an old trick, last used very visibly by Labour in 2009 when the now Lord Alan Sugar was made ‘Business Tsar’. It emerged earlier this week that Sugar was told ‘you’re fired’ by Cameron, but the cult of the celebrity advisor lives on. For example, James Dyson is now ‘Technology Tsar’, so adding Simon Schama to the list is perhaps an unsurprising, move. The main issue though is the lack of scrutiny these figures receive once they are handed reins of power. Dyson’s report on manufacturing was adopted very quickly as Tory dogma and without a critical eye. Schama’s output would need a close inspection, not just by Gove, but his peers and the teachers who would have to implement it.

Of course, Schama must be credited with contributing a lot to the popularisation of history, but to appoint him on this basis is tokenistic. What actually qualifies Schama for this job, other than the fact he is a household name? His appointment runs through the same logic as Jamie Oliver’s appointment to revolutionise school dinners. They have both complained about something in schools and so have been given the chance to change it. While pro-activism is commendable, perhaps the biggest surprise in Gove’s choice was that he didn’t select other known names as well. David Starkey comes to mind, and is perhaps more qualified, given that he specialises in Tudor history as opposed to art history like Schama.

Schama has accepted the position, but the Conservatives must ensure that he acts responsibly in the role. Gove must make him act as a facilitator, not a dictator of the new syllabus. Ideally Schama should listen to the unending arguments of high-flying academics and their lofty debates, then make these historical powerhouses understandable to children – to teach something more than just stories. You never know – it might just lead to another TV series…