Spurred on Cornwall's example, some feel Yorkshire should seek minority nation status too. Harry Mead reports

DOWN in Cornwall, the famous Floral Dance, staged in early May in Helston, this year had a triumphal flavour. It followed within days the success of Cornwall’s long campaign to be classed as a minority nation.

Up here, the question now is: should Yorkshire follow suit? After all, Yorkshire folk have always regarded themselves as a race apart – superior of course. Why should they be denied a status enjoyed within the British Isles by the Scots, the Welsh, the Northern Irish and now (even) the Cornish? The Council of Europe, which determines these matters, could surely not resist a Yorkshire nationhood bid?

Well, though it greatly pains a Yorkshireman to say so, there’s strong reason it could. For we Yorkshire folk have failed to live up to our imperishable boast that we and our county stand at the head of all others. Perhaps thankfully for us, not everyone has detected our shortcoming.

An influential, independent figure, Sir Simon Jenkins, chairman of the National Trust, recently voiced warm support for the concept of a Yorkshire nation. Obviously speaking rhetorically, he asked: “Are the 5.5m Yorkshire men and women not as deserving of minority status within the UK as half a million Cornish, of whom just 70,000 say they are actually Cornish?”

He went on: “Yorkshire is much the biggest county in England, a diverse geographic entity of great cities, ancient cathedrals, industrial estates [odd one that], seats of learning, wild upland and sweeping coasts. Its natural landscape is as varied as any in England, from the raw limestone of the Pennines to the spreading Vale of York, from the lush Dales to the bare Cleveland Hills.”

Birmingham-born, so no suspicion of bias, he had yet more to say. “As a group the county’s churches are the best in England,” he declared, “and its country houses are incomparable.”

Grateful for the testimony, Yorkshire folk might nevertheless protest that ‘bare’ Cleveland Hills suggests a harshness that isn’t present. But let’s get back to the minority nation thing.

Sir Simon emphasised: “I am sure Yorkshire’s self-confidence needs no cultural leg up from the Council of Europe.” Spot on; we know we’re the best regardless of any ‘status.’ But, making his point rhetorically again, Sir Simon banged home his advocacy of the Yorkshire Nation: “Who could deny ‘country’ status to a proud land with the same population as Scotland, nearly twice that of Wales and ten times that of Cornwall?”

Well, the Yorkshireman writing this could. And why? Because, sadly, we’re just not proud enough.

In Cornwall, the Cornish flag – white cross on black background, vaguely piratical – appears everywhere. Residents commonly speak of “going to England” when they cross the Tamar. But since 1974, when Prime Minister Ted Heath disastrously redrew most county boundaries, Yorkshire folk have fallen far short of the Cornish in cherishing their county’s historic identity.

Of course Yorkshire’s boundary changes were resisted. Whitby and Great Ayton were two places that fought like tigers and escaped the grasp of new authorities not blessed with the Yorkshire name. To this day the Yorkshire Ridings Society strives manfully to uphold the true Yorkshire.

It points out that the historic counties were unaffected by the Heath changes. Addressing the Yorkshire unrest, a Government spokesman explained: “The broad acres known as Yorkshire will remain unaltered despite the different names adopted by the new administrative counties.” It was only by giving this assurance that the unpopular changes were accepted.

But even Yorkshire folk appear now to have lost sight of the survival of the genuine counties, not least their own. Too many are indifferent to valiant efforts, led at national level by the Association for British Counties, to keep the genuine counties prominently alive. Worse is that some Yorkshire folk seem almost to relish the perceived exclusion from the county of places formerly part of the traditional Yorkshire family.

Leeds United fans taunt their Middlesbrough counterparts as “Yorkshire rejects.” I’ve often detected a note of self-satisfaction when someone from deep within Yorkshire, say Ryedale or Harrogate, says something like: “Redcar? That’s not in Yorkshire now.” The subtext is: “Redcar – we don’t want to know you; you’re no longer in our exclusive club.”

Most saying this would doubtless still call themselves “proud” Yorkshiremen or women. But the litmus test of pride in the county is a steadfast loyalty to its historic boundaries and a determination to speak up for them and their continuing existence at every opportunity.

The Cornish were fortunate in having only an eastern boundary, the Tamar, with which Heath never proposed to tamper, though a persuasive case could have been made for a single authority around the estuary, based on Plymouth. But Yorkshire was attacked on all sides except its coast.

While they might have fought a good fight at the outset, the county’s folk have subsequently let themselves and the county down. Those who praise “God’s Own County” while defining it only its Heath(en) form are the worst offenders. And the very last thing Yorkshire now needs is ‘minority nation’ status for the spurious, shrunken county that passes for the real thing.