AS is the habit of the inmates of Charlie Chuckle’s Laughter Factory, our beloved politicians went off on a tangent last week while debating the boomerang proposition to exempt food and fuel from GST.

In her second attempt in seven months to save hard-pressed Islanders a few pennies on groceries and filling up the old jalopy, Grouville Deputy Carolyn Labey referred to a ‘Middle Jersey.’ It provided a welcome diversion for those who like to ramble a tad too much for the parliamentary good, this time on the not so pressing matter of exactly who resides in Middle Jersey and where it might be.

The geographic middle of Jersey can be found in St John, in the Vingtaine de Hérupe, northwest of Sion and by folklore marked by the Centre Stone. This lump of granite, quarried up the road in Mont Mado, is an early example of recycling and centuries before St John became the first parish to introduce kerbside collections of reusable household waste. Local historians suspect that the Centre Stone was sourced from a nearby megalithic monument that has long disappeared in the passage of time.

Advances in navigational technology can prove that for the Centre Stone to be truly accurate it should be moved to the right or left, up a bit, down a nudge or whatever to mark the true middle of Jersey. Locating it precisely would most likely move it away from public view – probably into some unsuspecting householder’s front room – and thereby defeating the object of its purpose. What it the point of the Centre Stone if no one can see it.

Like the inmates in last week’s debate, I have digressed. Deputy Labey was not making reference to the good burghers of Sion as being residents of this ‘Middle Jersey’ – though many of them probably object to having to pay a three per cent tax on a loaf of bread, pint of milk and a litre of petrol. The Deputy and her fellow inmates on the current shift – many of whom spectacularly backtracked on election pledges to free us all from the evils of GST – were using the term Middle Jersey to refer to the poor put-upon sector of the population that is finding it hard to make ends meet in such stringent economic times.

Before last week’s debate, I had never thought of Jersey having a ‘middle’ of any description.
Nonetheless, there is a noticeable socio/economic divide between the high-income earners of the finance sector and the blue-collar working class. Not to mention the uber-earners such as the chief executive of the Waterfront Enterprise Board, top-flight civil servants and Crown officers who earn more than a head of state.

A Middle England has been in existence for centuries. It was, after all, the Middle English led by Oliver Cromwell who fought to establish a republic to replace a King, out of touch with the public mood, and a ruling elite whose power was based on birthright rather than the ability to justly govern other men. Unfortunately, they did a U-turn by restoring the Monarchy, albeit one whose purpose is to serve the interests of the people and not vice-versa.

Since the turn of the Millennium, the term Middle English has been employed by the media and chattering classes to deride those with a sense of patriotism and national pride.

Middle England is not just a synonym for the non-urban middle class; it has a far deeper and more significant meaning. Middle England is the combined spiritual, historical, social and moral landscape as defined by the qualities and traits that have made the English what they are.
Residents of Middle England are also sometimes referred to as the ‘silent’ or ‘moral majority,’ the ordinary folk who get on with their lives but who are ever ready and willing to answer the call when the country’s back is against the wall.

Middle England is frowned upon in some quarters as a privileged elite of shire-dwelling bigoted xenophobes, homophobes, racists, fox hunters, nimbies and worst of all, Daily Mail readers who also happen to be members of the Countryside Alliance. It just depends where the commentator fits in the political spectrum.

I don’t agree that Middle Jersey is the poor put-upon sector of the population that is finding it hard to make ends meet. That is far too broad a definition and how do you define ‘finding it hard to make end meet?’ Does that mean forgoing the annual skiing holiday to pay private school fees? Or ‘hibernating’ the Mercedes under dustsheets in the garage and using the teenager’s three-door economy hatchback, while they are away at university in the UK, to commute five miles there and back to the office in St Helier?

Far from it. Finding it hard to make ends meet means the elderly putting on extra layers of clothes and wrapping themselves in blankets because they can’t afford to heat their homes. It means parents not having the money to buy fresh fruit and vegetables to feed their children. And it also means scrimping and saving and shopping at car-boot sales instead of overpriced and ‘over here’ High Street chain stores.

If a Middle Jersey does exist, it is comprised of those who have the comfort of enjoying a true feeling of belonging that derives from a sense of place. It is also the domain of those who give their time freely to their parish, the community, clubs and associations and charitable causes. Moreover, it is those Islanders – Jerseyborn or resident – who take an interest in Island affairs and how we are governed. As with their counterparts in Middle England, they are the ‘silent’ and ‘moral majority.’

It is the good and community-minded burghers of Middle Jersey who turn out at election times and exercise their franchise, with the ultimate aim of electing to the States those they deem fit to govern and who they hope will act collectively in the cause of good government.

Unfortunately, because our parliamentary assembly is made up of individual members, the general electorate only gets a say as to how 12 seats are filled, along with those allocated to each parish – or one-twelfth of the Island. It is about time that Middle Jersey made its voice heard.