This summer, Deputy Lindsay de Sausmarez topped the poll in Guernsey’s election before becoming the island’s first female Chief Minister. Here, she talks about why both Jersey and Guernsey benefit from working together
Although I’m a proud Guernsey girl, I am – whisper it quietly – really quite fond of Jersey, all inter-insular sporting contests aside. My husband and I have four children spanning six to 16, and family holidays don’t usually extend beyond the Channel Islands. As far as my kids are concerned, Jersey is an excitingly exotic location filled with eye-popping wonders such as waterparks, full-sized cinemas and – best of all – a Macdonald’s and KFC: we have no international fast-food franchises, so this is a source of much Sarnian envy, for the youngsters in my household at least.
In this sense, seeing it through their eyes, it feels like another world, but on our first excursion post-Covid I was reminded just how close to home we were when, fresh off the boat, we flagged down a taxi and the Jersey driver greeted me by name and spent the journey grilling me about Guernsey politics. While I’m used to this kind of familiarity at home, it was odd realising that – thanks to our shared news media – I’m a familiar face to some in Jersey too.
Having been a States member since 2016 and holding several senior roles during that time, my eyes have been opened to quite how much Guernsey-Jersey co-operation does actually take place. Yes, I know that the public perception – in Guernsey at least – is that the two islands struggle to work with each other, but in my experience that couldn’t be further from the truth.
Perhaps my experience is shaped by the fact that the policy areas I’ve been most involved in include the environment, infrastructure, housing and social security, where there is no logical reason to compete: on the contrary, it makes perfect sense to share information and effort for mutual benefit. In the grand scheme of things, each island has the population of a large UK town yet has the additional responsibilities of being a self-governing jurisdiction, so the rational approach is to work together to avoid pointless duplication and unnecessary expense.
Increasingly, we act together as Channel Islanders – which is how we’re perceived by many beyond our Bailiwicks. We have a shared office in Brussels to represent our interests within the EU, and another shared resource based in Caen in the form of BIAN – the Bureau des Isles Anglo-Normandes – that is focused on regional matters.
As I write, I am on the first of three trips in quick succession where I am joining Jersey counterparts to strengthen regional relationships and support greater co-operation. On the 24th September I (along with colleagues from my Policy & Resources Committee and the Committee for Economic Development) will be in Jersey for a summit with Normandy, and a few weeks later in France for a similar gathering with Brittany.
Sailing towards France as part of a pan-Channel Island delegation to learn more about the nuclear power facilities we can all see from our respective shores, I couldn’t escape the obviousness of the metaphors surrounding me: the bumpy seas, the distant storm looking set to sweep us up in its path, and – despite this – the horizon dancing in determined sunshine breaking through peppered clumps of clouds.
I don’t mind admitting that the wider global outlook has tested my optimistic tendencies lately. Plenty of worries keep me up at night: looming environmental tipping points that if not avoided will have profound and irreversible impacts; breathtaking technological innovation that brings with it opportunities, yes, but also very real risks if effective regulation can’t keep up; and macro-economic uncertainty and rising geopolitical tensions that is breaking out into brutal kinetic wars.
At the heart of many of my concerns is a common theme: the fraying of our social fabric; the weakening of the bonds that keep communities together.
This crystalised for me recently as I was listening to an interview with a well-respected sociologist. When asked why homo sapiens had – against the odds – become such an incredibly dominant species, she said it was not our brain size or intelligence per se (as there were other species with bigger brains) but our ability to communicate and co-operate with each other that has been the secret to our evolutionary success.
I find it ironic that our flair for communication has led to the development of tools like social media that – in some respects at least – are contributing to the weakening of co-operation. There’s a lot that I love about social media and on balance I still think it is a net benefit to society, but the culprits in my eyes are the algorithms that drive polarisation. Why do they do this? Because outrage and conflict are the most valuable currency in an attention economy. More conflict leads to more clicks which lead to more money for these platforms – but at what cost?
We see this phenomenon playing out in politics: there is growing rhetorical aggression, division and polarisation, fuelling more political violence with real-world consequences. Populists – adept at pushing the right buttons to capture people’s attention – are in the ascendency at both extremes of the political spectrum, and the political landscape in between is becoming more fractured and fragmented. This is a godsend to – or, some would suggest, an actual strategic objective of – autocratic regimes and leaders with autocratic aspirations everywhere. Democracies in disarray play into their hands.
But if anyone can defend against this kind of deterioration, it’s small, close-knit communities like ours. Being islands, we have I think a stronger sense of identity and belonging, and (while a long way from perfect) we’re still quite a trusting bunch. Put simply, we’re better at keeping it real.
People often apologise when they stop me in the street or the supermarket to ask a question about the States, but I don’t see it as an imposition: I see it as our collective superpower. The fact that it is so easy for people to come and talk with us to share their views creates stronger bonds between the community and those they have elected to represent them, and being able to have that direct interaction is a bit of a bulwark against the kind of dehumanising tribalism and polarisation that is so depressingly prevalent elsewhere.
It works in the other direction, too. I’ve always found that the most successful policies are those that have been co-developed with the parts of the community that will be most impacted by them. Even potentially contentious plans such as on electricity, climate change and our open market housing have sailed through the States with near unanimous support, because we didn’t sit in an ivory tower deciding and defending the brilliance of our own ideas: we got out there, spoke with people who could give us a ground-level view of what would and wouldn’t work in reality, and improved the policy through their feedback. What’s more, different stakeholders explaining their own perspectives to each other and agreeing compromises develops a deeper understanding between them, as well as buy-in to the policy they’ve had a hand in shaping.
Whatever form they take, whether in person, by phone, email or indeed on social media (as long as exchanges stay respectful), conversations and connections can be an effective antidote to the polarisation that I feel is gnawing at the threads of our society.
Ultimately, all of us have a choice. We can choose the kind of aggressive community and political rhetoric where confrontation and conflict dominate the tone and see where that takes us, or we can choose a more collaborative style. Through its recent election, Guernsey seems to have consciously opted for the latter. After a fractious few years where the political atmosphere was at times deeply unpleasant, the voting public has supported a good number of candidates who believe in building consensus. It’s early days, and those days have had more than their fair share of curveballs, but I’m hopeful that this change in tone can be sustained so we can concentrate less on the politics and more on the practicalities of getting things done.
While we rightly and proudly maintain our own distinct identities, Guernsey and Jersey share many things in common: the same geographical patch of the English Channel, a similar cultural heritage, and an impressive ability to punch above our weight on the international stage, to name a random few. Just as conversations and connections can make us each a stronger community, they can strengthen the bonds between our islands also. While the sea between us can sometimes be a bit boisterous, we share a broad and bright horizon. Let’s keep the conversation going.
