Politics

The Brexit shellfish fiasco, explained

The shellfish industry between the EU and the UK was a textbook case of supply and demand working perfectly—Brexit has complicated that, and livelihoods are on the line

February 19, 2021
Mussel farmers have been unable to sell their produce to the EU since Brexit. Photo: amer ghazzal / Alamy Stock Photo
Mussel farmers have been unable to sell their produce to the EU since Brexit. Photo: amer ghazzal / Alamy Stock Photo

You have probably heard a lot about shellfish in recent weeks. You probably have a vague idea that the news stories have something to do with Brexit and have an inkling that this all comes down to the incompetence of politicians. 

Nevertheless, the full impact of the fiasco will not be felt by politicians—rather, it will be felt by shellfish farmers all across the country. In simple terms, leaving the EU meant Britain would have to play by new rules when exporting shellfish into Europe. As of January this year, farmers have been largely unable to sell shellfish such as mussels, oysters and scallops to our European neighbours.  

Most UK shellfish is exported

This is a major issue because around 60 to 80 per cent of our shellfish produce is exported, according to the Shellfish Association of Great Britain. And while the reasons for this ban are complex, its consequences are anything but.  

Nicki Holmyard has been in the mussels business for over 30 years. She and her husband farmed mussels in Loch Etive in Scotland for 25 years before they moved down to Devon with plans to supersize their small operation. 

“You’re constrained by the size of the loch for how many mussels you can grow,” says Holmyard. Their new farm is six miles off the coast of Lyme Bay, Devon, and is being built to produce up to 10,000 tonnes of mussels a year.  To put that into context: the whole of Scotland produces around 8,000 tonnes of mussels a year. The Holmyards’ Scottish operation produced around 800 tonnes annually.  

Their entire business is set up to sell to restaurants and supermarkets in Europe. The reason is simple: we don’t eat mussels in Britain, whereas Europeans eat around 600,000 tonnes of the stuff each year.    

Mussel farmers have been unable to sell their produce to the EU since Brexit. This is because the EU only allows the import of live bivalve molluscs (LBMs), a type of shellfish with a two-part hinged shell, from non-EU countries if they are grown in a certain standard of water quality.  Britain's water quality was good enough for the EU when we were still a part of the bloc, but is no longer considered good enough as a non-EU country.  

The water quality debacle

Shellfish produced in “lower quality” water from non-EU countries can still be imported into Europe if they are processed beforehand. But Britain cannot do this either because we don't have the necessary infrastructure—such as shellfish cleaning and sorting plants—built up here. 

Since the 1st of January, the Holmyards have struggled to sell anything to Europe because their mussels are grown in water not considered up to standard by the EU— though it was fine on 31st December. Overnight, their business has become unviable. The reason why technically comes down to water quality. But the truth is that Britain’s waters didn't suddenly become unsafe at the turn of the new year.  

So what’s so bad about Britain’s waters? Basically, nothing—our grades do not meet the EU’s standards because we are very strict markers, more so than many of our European neighbours. Shellfish farms are tested eight to ten times a year and water grades are implemented rigidly. According to Gary Rawle at Westcountry Mussels of Fowey, Britain’s waters are categorised into three brackets: A, B and C. You are considered class A, the top grade, as long you never test for a lower class. Rawle is one of the few shellfish farmers in Britain who does produce mussels in class A waters. 

But one bad test, which could easily occur due to a river flow from excess rain, and Rawle’s A grade would be taken away. And unlike other European countries, we don’t allow retests. 

A lack of processing infrastructure

People's livelihoods have simply fallen through the cracks of an agreement dreamed up by politicians.  

The Holmyards have 15 employees, most of whom work on two boats to check up and harvest mussels in their farms. “We initially wanted to process the mussels in Britain,” says Holmyard—but they were refused planning permission to build a plant. “It would have taken up the size of a car park.”  

Instead, they built their business model around processing their mussels in the Netherlands. “They have processing plants the size of buildings over there!” she says.  But because of the Food Safety Agency’s (FSA) ruling on the bacteria levels of the Holmyards’ water—which was considered fine when we were still in the EU—they cannot export to this Dutch plant anymore. And as there is not a large enough processing plant in Britain, they also cannot process their mussels here first.  

James Wilson at Bangor Mussel Producers in Wales says he has received several emails from the FSA about plans to revamp Britain’s water classification system in recent days. Farmers have complained about the system for years but its dire consequences have only now become clear. Such black and white thinking about water quality leads to black and white thinking on food safety. But the science is rarely ever that clear-cut.  

“I’ve heard it all before,” he says about the FSA’s emails. “95 per cent plus of my business is in exports to Europe. I’ve just been scratching my head.”  

Wilson, like the Holmyards, is left to bide his time. “I’m just keeping my mussels fed and safe from predators at the moment,” Wilson says. Because the process to grow them takes so long (between 1-3 years), any disruption to their production chain would leave the farmers unprepared when—or if—the issue is solved. 

Ultimately mussels had, until now, highlighted the benefits of our relationship with Europe. We farm mussels en masse but don’t eat them. Europeans love mussels. We sell to eager customers. It's textbook supply and demand. But now we’ve complicated that, and people’s livelihoods are on the line.

Holmyard tries to stay upbeat. “We’ve fought systems for long now,” she says. “You’ve always got to remain optimistic.”