Category: British

Global Ambitions to National Introspection

When did it start? At least in recent times. When did we start looking inward rather than outward? That introverted xenophobia that’s infected about a third of the country. If the polls are to be believed (and that’s a leap).

It’s strange, isn’t it? Britain, a country that spanned the globe with its trading accomplishments went from imagining a transformed world to sitting in front of an iPad complaining about either putting up Union flags on lampposts to taking them down. Painting roundabouts with red crosses or decrying the idiocy of it. Dressing up as crusader knights and thundering on about some lost imaginary England.

Pictures tell a story. Being in the aviation business, a global business, one picture that sticks in my mind involves a handkerchief and a British Prime Minister (PM). It seems a long time ago, now. Nearly 30-years ago. Back in 1997 British Airways (BA) took to celebrating their global coverage by getting international artists to produce new artworks for their aircraft fleet[1]. This was not to the liking of a former PM at the time.

For me this slippery slope was particularly evident. Living in the Surrey town of Reigate. An affluent former Conservative Party supporter, James Goldsmith set-up a new political party dedicated to one issue. The name gives it away. The Referendum Party took to the stage in 1994. Initially, seen as a joke and merely a plaything of a wealthy man, it captured the Member of Parliament for my town. For all the good it did (not), for a couple of weeks in 1997, George Gardiner, the MP for Reigate, joined the new party.

So, the British political mood in 1997 was evident, or so it may have been thought. Nothing of the sort. Of course that was the year of Tony Blair’s Labour landslide victory.

It’s possible to trace a lot of strangeness back to Margaret Thatcher. Although initially internationalist in outlook, she broke a domestic consensus and crushed a lot of hopes. Yes, the country needed radical change. It was the brutality of that change that people reacted against.

In 2001, BA succumbed and returned the Union flag to its tailplanes. Lots of poor excuses were made as to the reason for reverting. A Boeing 747 model and the handkerchief bit back.

Can I construct a thread of events from that moment to the European referendum in 2016? Certainly, there are connections as the country shook off the Blair and Brown years and plunged into a messy 14-years of incoherence. The financial crisis of 2008 didn’t help in the slide to introspection. A government that bailed out the bankers whilst making the population pay did nothing to earn a moral reputation. It further encouraged a growth of a blame culture.

So, if you supported the Referendum Party, the UKIP Party and the Brexit Party that followed, and now the Reform Party surely, it’s possible to see that you are barking up the wrong tree. It’s an empty cul-de-sac. It’s a fruitless orchard. It’s a road to decline.

These are not the heirs to Margaret Thatcher. They are bandwagon hopping con men. Money men who like their pockets lined. They will not help those who have missed out on their share of the country’s prosperity – past, present or future.

[1] https://www.flickr.com/photos/linda_chen/albums/72157625997434719/

Exploring Space: A Journey

I haven’t got many of my childhood Ladybird books. One I have kept in good condition is “Exploring Space.” It’s got the characteristic illustrations and simple stories that are made to captivate. This book is the revised edition that must date from sometime after 1971[1]. The front cover has an illustration of a moon lander floating above the moon. It’s a picture that says – look what we can do, this is the tip of the iceberg. Such an optimistic outlook.

Most of my career has been in the aerospace business. More specifically civil aviation. For short while, I did get involved in building ground test equipment for satellite systems. Some of the people I worked with built the Giotto spacecraft in the UK. The mission was to study Halley’s Comet. This spacecraft, launched in 1985, took close-up images of the comet. It discovered organic material within the comet and proved that a spacecraft could cope with the harsh conditions of such a flyby. 

My interest in space, and the complexities of getting there has been with me for a long time. It’s the ultimate adventure. It also shows what can be done by international cooperation. Giotto was the European Space Agency (ESA) first deep-space mission.

Mention the word interplanetary and what comes to mind? For people of my age. The Carpenters’ version of the song “Calling Occupants of Interplanetary Craft”. It’s an eccentric, but successful 1970s pop song about talking to aliens. It’s a cry for help that is as relevant now as it was then. “Please come in peace and help us in our earthly problems.” If ever we humans could do with help from a more advanced civilization, it’s right now.

A sense of wonder about the heavens is as old as our human story. What’s up there? Could we live there? Are there others living there already?

I like the idea of an English bishop[2] in the 1630s. An early science fiction writer he imagined a flight into space in a craft pulled by a flock of wild swans. Ten to be precise. Since there are plenty of swans here in the English town of Newbury, I thought about investigating that idea. Maybe not.

Last evening, for the first time, I visited the British Interplanetary Society (BIS)[3] at Arthur C. Clarke House in London. Their HQ is in Lambeth. Can’t say I like that part of London at all. It’s a peculiar mix of sterile skyscrapers and spaces waiting to be re-developed. Old London has been pushed aside.

The BIS has a long history. It’s no fly by night organisation. Not as far back as the English bishop mentioned above, but more than 90-years extant. They have promoted thoughts and ideas that go way beyond past achievements. Trying to imagine what a future may look like if our capabilities and drive for exploration continue to advance here on earth. I think there’s always a need for that creative imagination to push the boundaries of what’s possible.

This week has been Space Week[4]. A week to highlight all things space. Back in 1999, the United Nations (UN) declared that World Space Week would be every year from 4 to 11 October. For this celebration, this year, the BIS had put on an evening event called: Living in Space: A World Space Week Special Panel.

I won’t say too much only that it was a fascinating evening. We were a small gathering full of questions. BIS had assembled a prestigious panel of experienced individuals. There wasn’t much in terms of the practicalities of living and working in space that didn’t get discussed.

I’m reminded that despite the hostility of the space environment for our biology, what we know is that all the materials of which the earth is made are there waiting for us. Constructing habitats, with the robotics we now have, isn’t just science fiction anymore.

[1] https://www.royalmint.com/discover/decimalisation/

[2] Francis Godwin (1562–1633)

[3] https://www.bis-space.com/

[4] https://www.worldspaceweek.org/

Music to Dance Under the Moon

Flicking through the vinyl albums that no one wants there’s one I should have rescued this week. In a corner, charity shops usually have a pile of gifted vinyl records. I like to look for a hidden gem. Unfortunately, what’s left is the tatty and practically valueless disks. Versions of musicals that have fallen out of fashion, scratched classical concerts and embarrassing compilations.

It’s harvest time. Autumn is undeniable. A colourful carpet of leaves litters the pavements. Remarkably warm. Monday’s blue skies set of the spectacle of the trees display. When the October weather is like this there’s not much to complain about. Crisp walks through the dappled light as the low sun’s rays shine through the branches. Good to be alive.

Looking out of the window in the early morning it was as if it was a spooky daytime. In a monochrome light the outline of the tree line was like a cutout silhouette. Nothing could move without being seen. Grass glittered. Hedges stood like army ranks. All because of the intensity of the moonlight. Constant in the cool air.

The pop tune that entered my head was there for the taking but I’d left it to one side. This is a song that resonated from my boyhood. Some might cringe a bit. Let’s suspend judgement and let the 1970s be the 1970s. “Under the moon of love” is about as catchy as it gets. Showaddywaddy[1] dressed up in their brightly coloured exaggerated 1950s garb. They were not the only ones to do that for Top of the Pops. What’s memorable is the danceability of their pop classics. It makes me want to move. Don’t tell anybody. Sadly, my long hair has long gone.

It’s the time of the harvest moon. So, it’s a time for moon tunes. Not just any moon but the first supermoon of the year will grace the sky tonight, Tuesday 7th October. This bright full moon of 2025 will light up the nighttime. It will not have a musical accompaniment in my garden even if there’s a lot to choose from. The neighbours wouldn’t like it.

The best of the pile is Neil Young and his Harvest Moon[2]. 180 degrees from the Showaddywaddy pop effort. Neil scores top rating. It’s melodic, melancholy and memorable. Fantastic. Just right for a quite evening gazing at the moon overhead.

On a melodic theme the next one I’d recommend is from Nick Drake[3]. Again, it’s the 1970s that provides the music. It was a decade of variety, to say the least. Song writers were pushing the boat out and coming up with magical results.

And here’s another. Another to dance to in the moonlight. Moondance in fact. Van Morrison[4] this time. Perfect for an October night.

And if anyone has ever doubted the genius of Beethoven there’s the Moonlight Sonata.

The coming night will mark the start of a run of 3 supermoons. November and December will be graced with magical moons. I hope that’s an omen for good. Love and happiness.

POST: For more information BBC Radio 4: In Our Time: The Moon

https://www.bbc.co.uk/sounds/play/p0m77cfm

[1] https://youtu.be/qigUdmLyMBs

[2] https://youtu.be/n2MtEsrcTTs

[3] https://youtu.be/xqe6TF2y8i4

[4] https://youtu.be/7kfYOGndVfU

Engaging the 70%

A little analysis goes a long way. When that analysis chimes with what I observe, then all the better. Not that just because I agree with something that it therefore makes it beyond question. No, what’s satisfying here is to see that overlap on the Venn diagram of thoughts.

In an entirely off the cuff remark I said that if the major, and not so major, UK political parties all go off hunting for the votes of about 30% of the population, then there’s a huge opportunity for someone to address the 70%.

The UK political conference season is in full swing. Four political parties have completed their annual get together. Spent time agonising over their next moves. Damming and praising in equal measure both of rising and falling stars. Trying to avoid the media instinct to go for the live on-air gotcha moment. Being seen when the spotlight is turned on.

Back to my 70 / 30 relationship. This one strikes a bell for me having been a fan of the Pareto principle. That’s often called the 80 /20 rule.

For example, a lot of work may need to be done but it’s often only about 20% of that work that makes a difference, in certain situations. I could campaign over a wide area, without focus, and find that most of my effort had been wasted. Identifying the most fruitful areas to campaign, namely the 20%, might just as likely result in a win but with a greatly reduced effort.

National opinion polls can be deceptive. However, in the absence of real elections they are what people turn to get an indication of what’s going on – now. Today’s opinion polls have politicians spooked[1]. What the meaning of the Reform Party hovering at 30% is an open question.

Is it just like the days of the Social Democratic Party (SDP) in 1980s? A strong move for change that resulted in a flash in the pan. Well, it did open the door for Tony Blair and Co, years later.

Back to my 70 / 30 relationship. Labour, Conservatives and Reform all see this 30% voting intention. It hardly matters if it’s real. They are attracted to it like a moth to a lamp. There’re both data and a perception of who the 30% might be. Suddenly their importance is magnified out of all proportion. Phrase like “hard working people” are banded around. Classifications are sought to move away from past stereotypes like “white van man.”

I read Ben Ansell’s article[2]. I think he’s right. An enormous number of political campaigners fit into what can be called the Professional Managerial Class (PMC). Lots of people aspire to be of the PMC or think they are when they are not. Why do the two biggest political parties, Labour and Conservatives appear to dislike their activists and members so much?

Back to my 70 / 30 relationship. There is an enormous opportunity here for the Liberal Democrats. Not so much the Greens or nationalists. Just by speaking to the 70%. Just by addressing the issue that concern the 70%. Just signing up the 70%.

Not so much the vital few, more the vital many. Parliament could be a very different place in four years’ time.

[1] https://www.politico.eu/europe-poll-of-polls/united-kingdom/

[2] https://substack.com/@benansell

Unpacking Trust and Suspicion

Tickling the natural suspicion that a politician may say one thing but mean another, is not new. There’s a languid propensity to think the worst of people in power by those who don’t have that power. I wouldn’t argue with that tendency, if that tendency doesn’t become an absolute cover all. There are good people in power, trying to do their best, often against climate set by rogues, troublemakers and opinionated clowns. [A quick summary of the Tory years from 2010].

Natural suspicion is as much a part of the liberal creed as any part. Questions deserve answers because we don’t give politicians a blank cheque after an election. Putting a robust question about past promises and declarations is fair game. Running away is not an option.

However, it’s difficult to defend the blatant distortions that get played out in the daily media. I’m no fan of the UK’s Labour Prime Minister (PM). I don’t think he’s a rogue or troublemaker or dishonest. He’s portrayed as such by his enemies. That’s no surprise. What’s highly disagreeable are blatant distortions of what a person says in all good faith. Populist media outlets that act as propaganda pamphlets do this frequently.

I may say that the declared policies of a right-wing political party are stupid or dangerous or ignorant. What that says is the words used by a spokesperson of that party fit that bill. It does NOT say that that the people who support, even fleeting support, that party are all stupid or dangerous or ignorant.

Reasons for supporting for X or Y or even Z are multifarious and less stable than for past generations. The assumption that most people of a particular “class” will fit into traditional voting patterns is history. That era has passed.

The word “fleeting” is ever more relevant. Often a spokesperson will indeed say something that is merely flying a kite or designed to stir-up controversy. Whereas if they found themselves in power their whole tune would likely change. Reality would bite. Haven’t we seen and heard that before? I may say; do we never learn?

A study rhetoric is as ancient a study as any. Feelings and impressions are as likely to influence us as facts and figures. Performative gestures and colourful language obscure dry reasoning almost always. This basic lesson had to be relearned because of Brexit. There the established facts were clearly against the UK leaving the EU, but it happened anyway. Lots of people regret what happened in 2016. Sadly, such damaging acts are difficult to reverse.

Earthquakes happen because pressure builds up and then there’s a dramatic release. That happens regardless. Events can be quite anarchic and destructive. I guess the trick is to sense that pressure and ensure it doesn’t build up or is redirected. That’s an area where the current PM hasn’t shown a great deal of competence. I wonder if he will learn and adapt.

Sweet Truth

If I could guarantee one thing it would be that there would be a bag of sugar in the kitchen cupboard of my childhood home. The kitchen was the hub of the house. It was a square room with a solid square table right in the middle. Wheelback chairs permanently pushed in to make room to move round. There was one outside wall with a steel framed window that looked out on the farmyard. Looking due west. The evening sun would stream in to light up the side wall where the kitchen sink sat. With the thick walls of the farmhouse the window ledge was a place to sit. There was a full view of the farm gate so no one coming or going would ever be missed.

One wall had the remains of an ancient bread oven and a large alcove. In that alcove was a chucky great Aga. Custard coloured this massive cast iron cooker was the beating heart of the room. Before this cooker was converted to oil it was powered by anthracite. That involved a ritual of stoking and clearing out the ash every day.

The kitchen was the warmest room in the house. It’s where everyone congregated at mealtimes. Farming’s daily rhythm was managed from that room. Cups of tea flowed like a river as a bubbling kettle always seemed to be ready. Now, when I think about the amount of cane sugar that got piled into every cup of tea, I’m surprise that I have any teeth left at all. In fact, more than 50-year on, my last visit to the dentist for a check-up went well. Somehow my teeth have survived this onslaught.

Large bags of cash and carry bought sugar were a staple on the shelves of the larder. Rated today, my family’s rate of sugar consumption would be considered shocking. Not only that but the delight of toast made on the Aga top and then spread thickly with Golden Syrup[1] was normal winter comfort. Breakfast cereals were never eaten without tablespoons of sugar.

Time has passed and we have weaned ourselves off much of this overconsumption of highly refined sugar. There’s still a lot in our regular foods. Now, we have much more awareness of the problems that high sugar use can bring. That doesn’t stop us liking it.

Today, in politics, just it was in the 1960 and 70s, the metaphorical sugar of the day is the saying that there are easy solutions to complicated worries. There’s an appetite for a spoon full of sugar sprinkled on every latter-day problem. I don’t doubt that a spoon full of sugar helps the medicine go down[2]. Again metaphorically. However, Mary Poppins wasn’t saying that all you need is a spoon full of sugar. Far from it.

As the populist bandwagon continues to roll in most western countries, I think we need to remind ourselves of the enlightenment gained over the years. There are a lot of chores that must be done. Roads don’t get repaired by themselves. Hospitals don’t get built in a day. Schools and colleges need well motivated teachers to well motivate the next generation. Necessities like, tax and spend are a tedious inconvenience.

It’s so much easier to sprinkle a little verbal sugar and blame everyone else. Spouting simple solutions to ride the sugar rush. Covering dishonesties with a nice shiny coating. What we know from experience is that any lustre fades fast and decay sets in. The people who call themselves “Reform” are nothing more than peddlers of sugar-coated boloney. Reflect and beware.

[1] https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Golden_syrup

[2] https://youtu.be/SVDgTbGZEw4

National Digital ID: Balancing Security and Liberty

We are in an age where identity is as important as it has ever been. Those line of demarcation that put us in one camp or another. It’s not a simple subject give the myriads of different combinations and permutations of distinct categories that can describe a person.

Without a doubt, I’m English, British, and European. A West Countryman, a husband, a graduate, a homeowner, a taxpayer, a liberal, an engineer and a gardener to name a few.

So, what of the current debate about the merit of identity cards or their digital equivalent. I remember, more than 15 years ago, the debate that surrounded this subject. Saying, as a Liberal Democrat I was against the introduction of ID cards as a matter of principle. A matter of principle seems like it should be an immovable statement. However, that which was a matter of principle in the context of the times does warrant revisiting.

It’s a transformation that was allowed to sweep much before it. From a paper-based analogue world full of mechanical processes to a ubiquitous high-speed digital one that has made life unrecognisable from the 1980s/90s. Digitisation is as much a social change as it is a bureaucratic change.

Past agreements range from the assertion that it will be impossible to control illegal migration without ID cards to the fear of big brother tracking every stage of our lives from cradle to grave. What’s moved on is the context within which arguments for and against are conducted.

A starting position is that each of us has multiple identities. It’s undeniable that these exist and they impact our daily lives. Some of these identities entitle us to specific privileges. This means permitting our access and restricting or stopping others. This can be as simple as a workplace security badge that allows access to a building.

A State-run identity recording system is not a universal cure all. Also, a State-run ID card and national database system has the potential to fundamentally change the relationship between a Citizen and the State. I could say that there’s nowhere to hide. This is not a subject to go into with one’s eyes closed. The operational and associated implementation costs would be significant. Not to mention ongoing maintenance. These must be weighed against the benefits that might be accrued. I hope this becomes a rational discussion where costs and benefits are studied, published, and debated.

Can a national digital ID system prevent terrorist attacks, illegal immigration, identity fraud, and human trafficking? I don’t know. I do know that it will not be perfect.

On the political side, will people feel more secure and that State benefits or services are more fairly distributed as a result? That’s a big question.

To work effectively such a system will need to be required to by law. How much will that nibble away at the intrinsic perception of British liberty that we continue to hold? Will there be a backlash against a State that seeks to acquire more leavers of control?

My view is that the mandating of a national digital ID system needs to be balanced with a better clarification of the rights of citizenship in Britan. Without a written constitution there remains the vulnerability that a government of an extreme political type could misuse this innovation.

The Legacy of Beeching

Two hundred years is a long time. No, it isn’t. William the Conqueror, that’s the sort of name politicians crave, called for the building of Windsor Castle in England. That means, almost but not quite, a thousand years of continuous use. I guess in 2070 there’ll be a big celebration of the achievements of the Normans. Certainly, seemed to impress US President Trump.

If I had a time machine one of the destinations that I’d consider is 1963 and maybe 1965. I’d take a mass of press clippings and audio recordings about inadequate rural bus services and the high-speed railway saga (HS2).

History has a way of condensing a whole succession of events into a few simple words. William was a conqueror, but 1960’s civil servant Beeching was an axeman. That can be said to be unfair, since he was mandated to produce a report and, in the context of the times, British railways seemed like they had overexpanded and wouldn’t be brought back into profitability.

This happened when I was a child. I can just remember on my way to primary school stopping at a railway crossing and waiting a steam train to pass. It could have been the milk train. At that time milk was transported from west country dairy farms, in churns, to the local milk factory. Then loaded onto a London bound train. All this activity disappeared as I grew up. It was displaced by road tankers forcing their way along country roads.

I was born in a small Somerset railway town. Got my first pay packet in that small railway town. Had a couple of weeks of my engineering apprenticeship in the former railway shed. Spent time in the small motorcycle shop next to the railway embankment.

Beeching’s reports resulted in thousands of stations and thousands of miles of railway line being closed. The Somerset and Dorset (S&D) railway line was one of those that vanished. It was on 6 September 1965, the consent for closure was issued for most of the railway line.

Strangely, it was a newly elected Labour government that promised to reverse railway closures that closed the railway. A campaign to save the line was lost. Now, I think, what if, what if the new government of 1964 had not been so beguiled by modern road building and the white heat of technology. The internal combustion engine and purveyors of tarmac had won the day.

My message is to commission reports with a wider remit than merely improving economic efficiency. It’s a concern that is as ap today as ever it was. State of the art technology is alluring. Sloganising it’s easier to say that we are moving forward to a new dawn than it is to say we will update and improve the machinery we already use. There are good cases for scrapping past ways and means. Surely, it’s as well to try to look beyond immediate pressures.

Had Beeching’s axe not been so readily swung then we’d have an alternative to ever more road building and the billions ploughed into it. Remember those feeble promises to invest in local busses to replace the lost trains. How such recommendations are so quickly forgotten.

What will we say about robotics and artificial intelligence in 60-years’ time. Or even 200-years’ time. If we are still here.

Autumn’s Arrival

It’s the season of mellow fruitfulness. Hey, I didn’t even know I was quoting Keats with that apt short line. It’s so embedded in my thoughts.

Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness,

Close bosom-friend of the maturing Sun;

Conspiring with him how to load and bless

With fruit the vines that round the thatch-eves run;[1]

It’s so appropriate to the day. To the week. We are in that spot of the year that marks a transition. Summer is behind us. The ground is covered with acorns and conkers. Leaves are contemplating the end of the duties. A mist hangs over the grass in the early hours.

Just to be clear, I don’t live in a picture box thatched cottage in some hidden English valley. That said, from one long-standing vine, this year, I’ve collected a mass of grapes. This vine, being so deep rooted, it hasn’t suffered the desert like conditions that prevailed for weeks.

Autumn can be a wonderful season. For a few weeks the siren sound of the winter’s coming is held in suspension. There’s time to think about whether to turn on the heating or not as the temperature dips at night.

Transitions are political too. In Britain, it’s the season of conferences. A time for the faithful to gather and spend a few days running around like headless chickens. A harvest of policy papers and last-minute speeches. Condemnation of opponents. Accolades for friends and good company. Tee-shirts, hats and posters plying slogans old and new.

It’s difficult to explain. Might seem tiresome to those who have never spent 4-5 days at the seaside in September but mostly indoors or waving banners in the sea breeze. This week the Sun has blessed all concerned. Those of us who went to the south coast to share time with family and those who went to change the world.

For the party of government, they may be asking:

Where are the songs of spring? Ay, Where are they?

The optimism of last year has dramatically subsided. Now, they seem like the Mars company marketing gurus who rebranded the Marathon chocolate bar to Snickers[2]. A lesson in how to cause confusion for no material gain. Labour’s problem is clear. The chocolate bar is a good national trend indicator. Off the shelf, the bars are smaller, but you pay the same price or more for the pleasure. Arresting decline is proving to be difficult.

And gathering swallows twitter in the skies.

For those who may wonder at this line, Keats didn’t have social media.

[An Aside: AI, and its unsolicited interventions, can be right plonkers. It suggested that I change the grammar of Keats poem. It offered to rewrite the lines above. So, billionaires are spending billions trying to prompt us to rewrite romantic poetry. What a mad mad world.]

[1] https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/44484/to-autumn

[2] https://www.dailymail.co.uk/femail/article-13873067/real-reason-Snickers-changed-Marathon-chocolate.html

Unintended Consequences

There’s a list that must exist somewhere in the bowels of Government which describes the dumbest things that have ever been done. The law of unintended consequences. Where an aim may have been honest, but the reality was a deep dive in embarrassment and failure.

If this list doesn’t exist it dam well should. It’s a sort of lessons learned for civil servants, politicians and think tanks. Don’t propose anything X because the last time someone did that they crashed and burned. Or more subtly it was years later that people cursed the day that such a dumb idea was advanced.

I’m not going to argue against market forces. How could I. From an early age markets were part of my life. That’s local agricultural markets. My father bought and sold livestock. The bread and butter of livestock farming is to buy at one price, add value and then, hopefully, sell at a better price. Markets rise and fall in ways that are often mystical.

The UK imports approximately 46% of the food it consumes. Even that figure is 5 years old. I suspect that food imports have increased in the meantime. That’s in a country that is richly blessed with quality agricultural land. Fine, we (UK) are none too good at growing olives or avocados but the range of produce that it is possible to grow is huge.

Grassland is our greatest asset. Every time I flew back from an overseas trip, just looking down from the aeroplane remined me just how the UK is a carpet of green. Field systems that have ancient origins still dominate the landscape.

Livestock farming has changed radically since my father’s time. Fortunately, we have avoided, in most cases, the levels of intensification and factory methods that others have adopted. Hormone injected beef comes from cattle that live sad lives. People know this and have hands down rejected industrial farming to that level of intensity.

Domestic food production has changed because of Brexit and not for the better. One threat to domestic food production has been some of the ridiculous trade deals that have been struck by this Government and its predecessors. Making it harder for exporters and easier for importers.

Political policy towards the countryside has rightfully taken up the need to restore biodiversity and preserve some of our most precious landscapes. Trouble is that at the same time, little or no thought has been given to the need to support domestic food production. It’s like a policy desert. It’s one thing to talk about food security. It’s another to do anything about it.

With the Labour Government threatening to take large amounts of capital out of UK farming with their inheritance tax plans, they will be making family farming a thing of the past. It’s one of the dumbest things that have ever been done.

There’s general agreement that we shouldn’t encourage wealthy people to use land as a repository for their wealth. However, tax advisors have been telling them to do that for decades. Buy land and pay less tax. Reversing that long standing trend needs an intelligent policy not a crude sledgehammer to crack a nut. Even if it’s impossible to ween Labour politicians off their ideas on inheritance tax, there ought to be a way of doing it without penalising the innocent. Letting off those non-farming interests that politicians were aiming at originally. Dogma makes bad policy. It’s time to reemphasise the place family farming has in food production.