Quick question: does anyone remember voting on whether Bournemouth should be symbolically married to Netanya in Israel? No? Me neither. But here we are in 2025, 30 years into a civic ‘twinning’ arrangement most residents couldn’t name, caught in the crossfire of one of the most bitterly polarised international conflicts in living memory.
A petition of 2,500 locals asked BCP Council to sever the link – a hefty chunk of public opinion. And the council’s response? A full debate, some legal head-scratching, and ultimately a gloriously meaningless outcome: ‘we take no position’.
This, said the councillor who brought the motion, was ‘a masterclass in fence-sitting.’ He wasn’t wrong. Because here’s the thing: you can’t claim neutrality while maintaining a symbolic civic tie to a state currently accused of war crimes. That’s not impartiality. That’s passive endorsement – a decision not to decide, while still flying the flag (or at least, not removing the road signs … unless they go missing) (Again).
Sincerely yours
So let me ask a different question: what is town twinning actually for?
Originally, it was a hopeful gesture – a post-war reach across borders, encouraging friendship and understanding between former enemies. Noble stuff. But now? In many towns, it seems to be just a dusty relic – the kind of arrangement that lives quietly on a council website while no one really notices or remembers (except, of course, when someone tries to end it …).
And yet, twinning hasn’t quite died. In some places, like Sturminster Newton, it’s very much alive – and clearly rather well-fed. The town’s mayor recently returned from a trip to Montebourg in Normandy to mark 30 years of twinning. Her account reads like the diary of a cheerful exchange student: language barriers bridged by Google Translate, ceremonies followed by “food fests,” presents awkwardly re-gifted (a book on Dorset, bought in a last-minute panic), a tree planted, and multiple lunches, dinners and museum visits squeezed in between emotional stops at Omaha Beach and the local church (“even damper than Mappowder”).
It’s a lovely write-up. It’s charming, heartfelt and sincere. But it also begs the question: who benefits from all this? A handful of councillors and association members? Do residents see the cultural exchange? Do schools, choirs, businesses or sports clubs? Or is twinning now just a series of well-catered weekends for the elected few, travelling at public expense for “friendship” while wielding little or no impact?
Because if the only visible output of a 30-year civic link is some polite speeches, a wooden plaque and several large buffet spreads, then perhaps we need to be honest about what this is: not diplomacy, not culture … just a jolly with French wine.
And in Bournemouth, it’s worse.
There, twinning has become a political landmine. The question of whether to maintain links with an Israeli city embroiled in the Gaza conflict has become so charged that BCP Council’s grand solution was to say nothing at all. They’ll neither condemn nor support the link, they say … but they’ll quietly keep it. That’s not leadership. That’s performative neutrality.
Twinning can be meaningful – it should be meaningful. It should bring tangible benefits: school visits, language exchanges, shared community projects. But if it’s just a ceremonial shrug – something a handful of people toast every few years with a glass of Calvados and a chicken lunch – then maybe it’s time to untwin.
Because symbols matter. And silence, as BCP just proved, is also a statement.
**The Grumbler – the open opinion column in The BV. It’s a space for anyone to share their thoughts freely. While the editor will need to know the identity of contributors, all pieces will be published anonymously. With just a few basic guidelines to ensure legality, safety and respect, this is an open forum for honest and unfiltered views. Got something you need to get off your chest? Send it to [email protected]. The Grumbler column is here for you: go on, say it. We dare you.**
