Boris’s fishy kipper claim guts his whole Brexit argument

The conclusion to Boris Johnson’s performance in a recent Conservative leadership hustings was a classically misleading example of Brexiter theatrics. As the UK’s probable next prime minister began his closing argument, he ducked down behind his lectern and reappeared waving a vacuum-wrapped fish, announcing that if the audience “want to understand why it is that we must leave the EU, and the advantages of coming out of the EU, and the ability to take back control of our own democracy and our own regulatory framework, I want you to consider this kipper”.

Johnson declared that the Manxman who had smoked this particular fish was “utterly furious” about EU red tape: “After decades of sending kippers like this through the post, he has had his costs massively increased by Brussels bureaucrats who have insisted that each kipper must be accompanied by this: a plastic ice pillow. Pointless, expensive, environmentally damaging health and safety”.

As a piece of theatre this is undeniably brilliant. As a demonstration of costly EU regulation foisted onto business it is not. There are three crucial flaws in Johnson’s argument. First, the Isle of Man is not part of the EU. Second, the EU does not regulate the ideal temperature of kippers, or indeed set out how any such ideal temperature should be attained. Third, the regulations in question are in fact British.

Fittingly, these flaws also neatly summarise the gaps in Johnson’s vision of a post-Brexit Singapore-on-Thames. The Isle of Man is a crown dependency. It is not part of the UK, and it is not in the EU. Instead, it enjoys a special relationship with the bloc through a protocol in the UK’s treaties, and sits inside the customs union. While some EU rules do apply to the island, still more EU and UK laws are adopted voluntarily in an effort to secure market access – a process that puts into domestic law standards exporters would have to adhere to anyway. The net result is that, while some sovereignty is lost, free trade in goods and agricultural products is secured.

This trade-off is precisely the situation the UK will face if it ever leaves the EU. For every cost-cutting deregulatory initiative Johnson envisages after Brexit, there will be a corresponding loss of market access. We may well find ourselves voluntarily adopting standards we had no say in setting simply because the benefits of bespoke regulation are outweighed by the costs of divergence. And if we don’t adopt them, our exporters will have to adhere to them anyway.

An EU spokesperson has now debunked Johnson’s fishy tale, explaining that ice-pack provision for Manx kippers is “outside the scope of EU legislation, and is purely a UK national competence”. If Johnson really wants to free up the purveyors of kippers he can put a change in the law on the agenda for the day he takes office. And yet, somehow, I suspect that significantly increasing the risk of food-poisoning for domestic fish consumers will not be high on his government’s list of priorities. 

As a somewhat homesick Manxman myself, I actually had some Isle of Man kippers delivered by post to my office a few weeks ago. A colleague signed for them, left the package in the very warm hallway, and promptly forgot about it. I can therefore, sadly, confirm that the ice pack is definitely necessary.