Bepi, Exacta, and Viasystems: The Electronics Legacy of the Scottish Borders

The Decline of Textiles and the Turn to Electronics

For over a century, the Scottish Borders region — and the towns of Galashiels and Selkirk in particular — had thrived on the textile trade. The valleys along the River Tweed were dotted with woollen mills and weaving factories renowned for producing quality tweed, cashmere, and knitwear. By the mid-20th century, however, this once-dominant industry was beginning to struggle. Competition from overseas manufacturers, changing fashions, and technological automation all contributed to a gradual downturn in the Borders’ textile mills. One by one, long-established mills began reducing their workforce or closing their doors, leaving local communities anxious about their economic future.

Local authorities in the 1960s could see the writing on the wall. Even before the worst of the textile downturn hit, planners and community leaders recognised the need to broaden the economic base of the region. As early as the late 1960s, development committees were set up to attract new types of employers to towns like Galashiels and Selkirk. They identified that the area had a skilled and diligent workforce, but many jobs were tied to a single declining industry. To stem rising unemployment and out-migration, the region needed fresh industries to take root — industries that could employ local men and women and utilise the talents of a generation facing the end of the textile era.

One potential area of growth was electronics. In the wider Scottish economy, the late 20th century saw a surge of electronics manufacturing (the period was often dubbed “Silicon Glen” in Scotland, as high-tech firms sprouted especially around Glasgow and Edinburgh). The Borders, though more rural and remote, was keen not to be left behind. Government incentives were offered to technology companies willing to set up operations in economically challenged areas. At the same time, a pair of enterprising individuals from Galashiels were already experimenting with a niche that would soon put the region on the electronics map: printed circuit boards.

Printed circuit boards (PCBs) are the foundation of electronic devices, providing mechanical support and electrical connections for components. In the 1960s, the use of PCBs was expanding rapidly as computers, telecommunications gear, and consumer electronics grew in complexity. Manufacturing PCBs is entirely different from weaving textiles, yet it also requires precision, attention to detail, and process engineering — qualities not lacking among the Borders workforce. This new industry would soon prove to be an unexpectedly good fit for a community seeking to reinvent itself beyond textiles.

Pioneers of the PCB Industry in the Borders

The birth of the electronics era in Galashiels can be traced to a small upstairs room above a bank on the High Street in 1961. It was there that Robert “Bert” Currie, a process engraver by trade, and Ken Mill, an electronics engineer, joined forces to start a tiny venture known as Currie & Mill. With humble beginnings and a meagre £500 of borrowed capital, the duo set out to manufacture printed circuit boards locally. This was an ambitious move at a time when the concept of making PCBs in the Scottish Borders was virtually unheard of. In these early days, the operation was truly small-scale — a far cry from the clattering looms of the textile mills. Yet Currie and Mill brought together complementary skills: Currie’s background in printing and engraving was ideal for the printing and etching processes used in PCB production, and Mill’s electronics expertise was crucial for designing and testing the boards.

By 1962, Currie & Mill had outgrown their tiny room and moved into Abbots Mill, a disused textile mill building on the outskirts of Galashiels. In a symbolic twist, a former woollen mill — once used for spinning yarn or weaving cloth — was now buzzing with a new kind of activity: etching copper pathways onto boards to create circuits. The image of a 19th-century stone mill repurposed to house acid baths, screen-printing tables, and drilling machines encapsulated the region’s transition. It was becoming clear that Galashiels and Selkirk could evolve from solely tweed and textiles to include technology and electronics in their identity.

However, the partnership between Currie and Mill proved short-lived. By 1963, after only two years in business, the two men decided to part ways due to differing visions of how to run and grow the enterprise. Rather than spelling the end of electronics in the Borders, this split led to something much bigger — it resulted in the creation of two separate companies, each of which would go on to become a pillar of the local tech industry. Bert Currie bought out his partner’s share of the original business and renamed the firm Exacta Circuits Ltd, continuing operations in Galashiels. Ken Mill, for his part, branched off to start a new company called BEPI (Electronics) Ltd. This friendly rivalry laid the foundation for an entire electronics manufacturing cluster in the region.

Currie and Mill’s pioneering efforts could not have come at a better time. As the 1960s progressed into the 1970s, the slowdown of the textile sector in the Borders accelerated, confirming the worst fears of local planners. But simultaneously, these fledgling PCB companies were gaining traction, proving that high-tech manufacturing could take root in a place better known for wool and tweed. In the years that followed, many other electronics firms in the Borders would trace their lineage back to the original Currie & Mill venture. Former employees of Exacta and BEPI went on to start or staff new enterprises — companies like MEPD (Met-Etch) in Selkirk and Keltek in Kelso emerged, extending the region’s electronics ecosystem. Other PCB manufacturing outfits launched by ex-staff included Border Circuits and BHK Circuits; even beyond the Borders, alumni from these firms founded businesses such as Zot Engineering in Musselburgh. A host of suppliers to the PCB industry also set up local operations (providing speciality chemicals, equipment maintenance, etc.), creating a cluster effect. The spark that Currie and Mill ignited not only provided immediate jobs but also created a growing network of technical knowledge and skills in the local workforce.

This represented a bold technological leap for the community at the time. Making a printed circuit board involves processes that would have seemed quite alien to someone from the textile trade. Instead of carding wool or dyeing fabrics, the workers at Currie & Mill’s enterprise were engaging in chemical etching and precision printing of circuit patterns. A PCB starts as a flat laminate board clad in copper. In the earliest days, the circuit pattern was applied by screen-printing an acid-resistant ink onto the copper foil (photographic “photoresist” methods would come a little later). The board was then bathed in acid to eat away the unwanted copper, leaving behind conductive tracks that form the “wiring” of the circuit. After etching, holes were drilled for electronic components, and metal plating was applied to create connections through the board’s layers. All of these steps require cleanliness, precision, and careful control of chemicals — much like an engraver’s work or a photographer’s darkroom, which explains Bert Currie’s aptitude. The attention to detail and quality control honed in textile production also translated surprisingly well: just as a small flaw in a fine tweed could ruin yards of cloth, a tiny defect in a circuit board (for example, a hairline break in a copper track) could render it useless. The Borders workforce, known for their craftsmanship and work ethic, adapted to these exacting demands.

By the end of the 1960s, what began as an experiment by two local visionaries had firmly planted roots. The Scottish Borders had its foot in the door of the booming electronics world, even as the clatter of textile mills began to fade. Next, we shall look at how each of the two spin-off companies — BEPI in Galashiels and Exacta Circuits in Selkirk — grew from these origins to become major employers and innovators, filling the economic void left by the shrinking textile trade.

BEPI Electronics Ltd (Galashiels)

Founding and Early Years

When Ken Mill established BEPI (Electronics) Ltd in the mid-1960s, he started with the experience gained from the Currie & Mill venture but with a fresh slate to pursue his own vision. The name BEPI is said to have stood for something like “Borders Electronic Printed Items,” reflecting its focus on printed electronic products. From the outset, BEPI operated in Galashiels, making use of available industrial space — notably setting up shop in Galabank Mill on Wilderhaugh, another former textile mill site. Galabank Mill’s solid old walls now enclosed bubbling chemical tanks and whirring drills instead of carding machines. In those early years, BEPI was a modest operation, but Ken Mill’s ambition was to build a company that could stand at the forefront of PCB technology in the UK.

BEPI’s early production was centred on relatively simple printed circuit boards, such as single-sided and double-sided boards for the electronics of the 1960s. The company secured contracts from various sectors that were beginning to rely on electronic circuits — from makers of business machines and transistor radios to the emerging computer firms of the era. In the local context, each new order at BEPI translated into jobs on the ground in Galashiels. Young men and women who might have followed their parents into textiles found themselves learning how to coat boards with solder resist or operate a drilling press with precision measured in thousandths of an inch. It was challenging, novel work, but it was also exciting. For many employees, there was a sense of pride in contributing to a cutting-edge industry, something quite removed from the traditional image of Borders manufacturing.

Throughout the late 1960s, BEPI steadily built a reputation for quality. The company’s small size belied its growing expertise in manufacturing techniques. Ken Mill’s leadership combined technical know-how with a knack for finding opportunities. One such opportunity was in serving high-reliability markets like defence and aerospace, which required circuit boards made to rigorous standards. BEPI took on projects that demanded precision and consistency, learning to meet strict military specifications. These early successes set the stage for BEPI’s later expansion, as it became clear that to fully exploit the market, the company would need to invest in more advanced machinery and larger facilities.

Expansion Under Pye in the 1970s–1980s

BEPI’s turning point came in the 1970s when its success attracted the attention of a much larger electronics player. The well-known British firm Pye (part of the Philips Group) was interested in bolstering its capabilities in electronic components and manufacturing. Impressed by BEPI’s achievements and the potential of its skilled workforce, Pye decided to bring BEPI into its fold. BEPI (Electronics) Ltd was subsequently acquired by Pye, integrating the Galashiels operation into a global network under the Philips corporate umbrella. This was a significant development not only for BEPI but for the entire region. It meant an influx of capital, technology, and expanded business horizons, firmly cementing the notion that Galashiels was now a serious player in electronics manufacturing.

Under Pye’s ownership, BEPI underwent considerable expansion and modernisation. By the late 1970s and into the 1980s, the Galashiels plant saw major investments in infrastructure. The company extended its manufacturing floor space and installed state-of-the-art production equipment worth over £1 million. One headline improvement was the introduction of automated plating lines for through-hole plating of circuit boards. These large plating tanks, complete with robotic arms (flight bars) to dip and transfer boards through various chemical baths, dramatically increased output and consistency. Each individual flight bar could be programmed to meet any required plating specification, ensuring that whether a board was destined for a telephone exchange or a fighter jet, the copper plating inside its holes met exact standards.

BEPI also upgraded its drilling department with numerically controlled (NC) drilling machines. Workers who once manually drilled one hole at a time on a press now oversaw machines like the Excellon and TruDrill, which could be programmed to drill thousands of holes per board swiftly and accurately. The noise of these NC drillers became a defining sound in the factory — a high-pitched whir as multiple spindles perforated boards at lightning speed. In the quality control rooms, technicians peered through microscopes and optical comparators to inspect the intricate patterns on the boards, a scene far removed from a textile inspector checking cloth yet requiring the same dedication to quality.

BEPI further embraced new computer systems to manage production. The factory introduced a PRIME 300 minicomputer along with resource-planning software to handle order processing, production scheduling, and inventory management. This was cutting-edge for a manufacturing firm in that era, especially in a region that a decade prior had virtually no electronics industry. Successfully implementing such technology indicated the calibre of expertise that BEPI had cultivated among its staff and management.

As BEPI’s technical capabilities grew, so did its customer base and the range of industries it served. By the mid-1980s, the company was a major supplier of PCBs to diverse sectors: computing, telecommunications, industrial instrumentation, and defence. It was not uncommon for circuit boards made in Galashiels to be shipped to companies across the UK and even abroad, to be integrated into products like mainframe computers, telephone network equipment, medical devices, and military hardware. Achieving and maintaining quality certifications became a point of pride. BEPI’s operations met stringent standards — for example, Ministry of Defence specifications, approvals from telecom authorities, and recognition by Underwriters Laboratories in the US — demonstrating that the Borders workforce could deliver top-tier high-tech manufacturing on par with any facility in Europe.

One particularly noteworthy area of expertise at BEPI was the early adoption of Multiwire™ technology. Multiwire was an advanced circuit board fabrication technique developed for ultra-high-density interconnections. Instead of using multiple etched layers to route complex circuits, insulated wires were embedded within a board to form the necessary connections. In the 1980s, this was cutting-edge and not many manufacturers could master it. BEPI became one of only three fabricators in all of Europe capable of producing Multiwire boards. These boards were especially sought by defence and aerospace customers due to their ability to pack intricate wiring into a small space. Mastering Multiwire technology was a feather in BEPI’s cap and underscored how a company operating in a relatively remote Scottish town was nonetheless pushing the boundaries of PCB manufacturing. Engineers from other parts of the UK — and even overseas — would visit the Galashiels plant to learn about these processes, a testament to how far BEPI had come from its small-room beginnings.

By virtue of BEPI’s growth, Galashiels experienced a mini economic boom in the late 1970s and 1980s, despite the overall textile decline. The company became one of the town’s larger employers. At its peak, BEPI and its related operations provided hundreds of jobs — from engineers and managers to machine operators, lab technicians, maintenance crews, and assembly workers. Crucially, these were well-paying technical jobs, which helped retain talent in the area. Instead of young people having no option but to leave the Borders to find work, many could start a career path at BEPI. The presence of a global company like Philips (through Pye) also meant exposure to international best practices and even occasional training opportunities abroad, which broadened local horizons.

Local educational institutions responded to this changing landscape. The Borders saw an uptick in students pursuing courses in electronics, electrical engineering, and related technical skills. Some high schools started offering basic electronics modules, and the local technical college (later known as Borders College) aligned parts of its curriculum with the needs of employers like BEPI. Apprenticeship programmes were developed in conjunction with the factory, allowing apprentices to earn and learn — often spending part of the week at college and the rest gaining hands-on experience on the shop floor. For a region that had long prized craft apprenticeships in weaving or mechanical trades, this was a continuation of that tradition in a new guise. Many who started as teenage apprentices at BEPI in the 1970s grew into highly skilled technicians and supervisors by the 1980s, and some advanced into management roles, attesting to the career growth path the industry provided.

The symbiosis between BEPI and the community was evident. Galashiels in those years took pride in being a town not only of looms and tweed, but also of solder masks and silicon chips (even if the chips themselves were not made there — the boards that carried them were). The local newspaper would cover BEPI’s achievements, such as securing a big contract or installing a new piece of high-tech equipment, much as it once reported the opening of a new mill or a record wool clip. There was a growing optimism that the Borders could reinvent itself for the modern era. BEPI was at the forefront of that optimism — tangible proof that the region’s famed industrial spirit had not died with the old industries, but could adapt and thrive with new ones.

Later Years and Fate

As BEPI moved into the late 1980s and early 1990s, the world of electronics manufacturing was undergoing rapid change. On one hand, the demand for circuit boards was higher than ever, driven by the explosion of personal computers and advanced telecommunications equipment. On the other hand, competition was increasing globally. New PCB factories were springing up in countries with lower production costs, particularly in East Asia, and the industry as a whole was consolidating. Smaller independent firms were being absorbed into larger groups to achieve greater economies of scale. BEPI, by then firmly under Philips’ wing, was not immune to these pressures.

By the late 1980s, BEPI’s trajectory took a new turn. In 1989, the company was acquired by its former rival, Exacta Circuits. This merger brought the two pioneering Borders firms back together under one ownership after more than 25 years apart. The BEPI name was eventually retired (though Exacta adopted BEPI’s lion logo alongside its own as a nod to the Galashiels company’s heritage), and operations were consolidated. BEPI’s state-of-the-art multilayer production line was moved to Exacta’s Selkirk facility, while other PCB fabrication processes continued in the Galashiels plant or in Selkirk depending on the product. Essentially, BEPI ceased to exist as an independent entity after 1989, but its legacy continued as part of Exacta’s expanded operations.

In the mid-1990s, the combined Exacta/BEPI business itself became part of a larger conglomerate. BEPI’s Galashiels site, along with Exacta’s Selkirk site, was sold to the UK-based Forward Group plc in 1995. Forward Group had been assembling several British circuit board companies under one umbrella, aiming to create a national champion in PCB production that could compete globally. By bringing Exacta (and with it the former BEPI plant) into Forward Group, the Borders operations were now grouped with other PCB factories in England and overseas.

For the management and workforce of BEPI’s Galashiels facility, the Forward Group era initially didn’t change day-to-day operations drastically. The plant continued to produce high-quality boards, and Forward leveraged its combined sales force to bring in orders. In fact, being part of a bigger group sometimes meant the Galashiels factory manufactured boards as part of multi-site contracts for international customers. However, it also meant that decisions were increasingly made at a corporate level, far from the Borders. The autonomy that BEPI once enjoyed as a local company had long since given way to being a cog in a larger machine. Still, as long as the contracts were flowing and the machines were humming, employment remained steady and the Borders electronics community kept its sense of purpose.

The true test came in 1997, when a much larger player entered the picture: Viasystems. This aggressive American firm had been rapidly buying up PCB manufacturers around the world, and in April 1997 it acquired Forward Group. Overnight, the BEPI plant (by then operating under the Exacta umbrella) became part of a multinational empire headquartered far away, with a strategy driven by global consolidation and cost-cutting.

Initially, Viasystems’ management offered optimistic assurances that being part of a global company would bring benefits: more customers for the Borders factories, potential investment, and integration into a worldwide supply chain. In an early briefing at the Galashiels site, the visiting Viasystems executives (including the American Mills brothers who led the company) even quipped that “the future’s so bright, you’ll need sunglasses.” For a moment, there was cautious hope on the shop floor that perhaps this international takeover could secure their future with a steady flow of orders or even expansion.

Sadly, the late 1990s did not bode well for the Galashiels facility under Viasystems’ control. In pursuit of greater profitability, Viasystems began re-evaluating its manufacturing footprint. Despite the Galashiels plant’s long track record, it was now being compared with the company’s other factories in places like north-east England or in Asia and Eastern Europe. To Viasystems’ leaders, the Borders facilities were high-cost sites in a relatively remote location. Moreover, around the same time Viasystems acquired Forward, it also announced the purchase of Interconnection Systems Ltd (ISL) in Tyne and Wear — one of the UK’s other major PCB makers, which was in the process of opening a massive new factory on Tyneside (built with government grants). Viasystems suddenly had an excess of production capacity in the UK. From a purely financial perspective, the Galashiels and Selkirk plants looked vulnerable.

By late 1997, the Borders’ worst fears were realised: Viasystems announced plans to shut down both the Galashiels and Selkirk facilities. Decades of accumulated expertise — and the jobs of several hundred people — were on the line. The news was met with disbelief, then outrage. Workers at the Galashiels factory, many of whom had given the majority of their working lives to BEPI/Exacta and its predecessors, suddenly faced redundancy. Some were second-generation electronics workers – their fathers or mothers had helped start the industry in the 1960s and ’70s, and now their own livelihoods were in jeopardy.

The community fought back hard. Local management and government agencies scrambled to find a way to keep the plant open — whether by seeking an outside buyer or convincing Viasystems to reconsider. Employees and union representatives campaigned vigorously, highlighting the factory’s modern equipment and highly skilled workforce, and pointing out the injustice of profitable work being shifted away after years of public grants and local loyalty. The local newspaper (The Southern Reporter) described the closure threat as the region’s biggest economic disaster in decades. A senior shop steward famously blasted the company’s owners as “casino capitalists” who had gambled with the livelihoods of Borders workers and taken public money with no loyalty in return. Petitions were gathered, and delegations of employees travelled to Edinburgh and even to London to make their case directly to politicians and Viasystems executives. Local MPs (Members of Parliament) and the newly formed Scottish Parliament took up the issue, raising questions about the Borders job losses and pressing for government intervention or assistance. The phrase “Silicon Glen” took on an ironic twist in the press, as commentators noted that this corner of Silicon Glen was being allowed to wither.

Despite the passionate efforts, the multinational’s decision was final. The factory’s fate was sealed not in Galashiels or even in Edinburgh, but in boardrooms in St. Louis and New York. By early 1999, the Galashiels PCB plant closed its doors for the last time, marking a bitter end to a story that had once been held up as an exemplar of economic regeneration. As the gates shut and the lights went out on the plating lines and drilling machines, an era in Galashiels’ industrial history came to a close. The town that had shown it could reinvent itself was challenged to do so again.

The loss of such a major employer reverberated through the community. Many skilled technicians and engineers were forced either to commute long distances for similar work (some found jobs at electronics plants in England) or to change careers entirely. Others left the region, contributing to a renewed “brain drain” — a reversal of the trend that the original founders, Currie and Mill, had managed to spark decades before. A few dozen employees were offered temporary transfers to other Viasystems sites (for example, the new Tyneside plant, factories in Holland or even North America) to help those locations ramp up production, but those stints were short-lived and did not lessen the local impact.

Yet, even as BEPI’s chapter ended, its legacy lived on in various ways. The skills, technical knowledge, and confidence it gave the community did not disappear overnight. Many ex-employees would later apply their expertise in other industries or even other countries. Additionally, the empty factory building did not stay idle forever; in subsequent years, new uses were found for old industrial sites (though none quite matching the scale of the original operations). But before exploring the aftermath and legacy, we should turn our attention to BEPI’s twin in this story — the company that grew from the other half of the original Currie & Mill partnership: Exacta Circuits Ltd.

Exacta Circuits Ltd (Selkirk)

Origins and Relocation to Selkirk

While Ken Mill was forging BEPI’s path in Galashiels, Bert Currie was busy shaping the future of Exacta Circuits Ltd. After the amicable split in 1963, Currie retained the existing PCB business and gave it the new name Exacta Circuits, reflecting a commitment to precision (an apt moniker for a company making products where exactitude is crucial). In its first few years, Exacta operated on a small scale, initially remaining in Galashiels and continuing to fulfil orders using the basic methods developed during the Currie & Mill days. By the end of the 1960s, however, with demand for PCBs growing, Exacta was ready for a bold move that would set it apart.

A landmark moment for Exacta Circuits came in 1970, as the company prepared for a major expansion. Leveraging support from regional development authorities and buoyed by a growing order book, Exacta decided to build a brand-new factory designed specifically for PCB manufacturing. This was a pioneering project: it would be the first factory in Britain custom-built solely for the manufacture of printed circuit boards. The site chosen was at Dunsdalehaugh in Selkirk, a town about seven miles from Galashiels. By situating the new plant in Selkirk, Exacta not only gained space to grow but also helped spread the burgeoning electronics industry to another Borders town that was itself grappling with textile mill closures.

Completed in 1971, the new Exacta Circuits facility was a stark contrast to the traditional mills that had dominated the local landscape. Instead of Victorian sandstone and brick, this plant featured a modern single-storey industrial design — ideal for a streamlined production flow. It included purpose-built rooms for each stage of PCB fabrication: a screen-printing area and darkrooms for creating circuit patterns, sealed chambers with proper ventilation for chemical etching, clean areas for lamination and multilayer board pressing, and laboratories for quality testing. By constructing the factory from the ground up, Exacta was able to implement the latest design principles for efficiency and safety, something that converted textile mills (like BEPI’s Galabank Mill) could not as easily accommodate without extensive retrofitting.

The relocation to Selkirk and the investment in a custom facility underscored confidence in the future of PCB manufacturing in the region. It was also a statement of Exacta’s ambition. Bert Currie and his team were no longer content being a cottage operation; they were now establishing an enterprise that could compete on the national stage. For Selkirk, a town with its own rich textile heritage, the arrival of Exacta Circuits brought much-needed diversification. Eventually, several hundred jobs would be based at the Dunsdalehaugh plant, injecting new life into the local economy at a time when many other industries were contracting.

In 1974, Exacta’s success attracted outside interest: the telecommunications giant STC (Standard Telephones & Cables), part of the ITT group, acquired Exacta Circuits. STC had been a major customer, supplying equipment to the national GPO telephone system (later British Telecom), and securing a reliable PCB supplier was strategic. Around this time, founder Bert Currie stepped away from the business he had started, handing over the reins to new management under STC’s ownership. The STC era gave Exacta further stability and direct access to global telecom markets. Notably, the company maintained its older Galashiels site (at Netherdale) even after moving HQ to Selkirk; one section of the Galashiels factory was set up exclusively to produce boards for STC’s TXE4 telephone exchanges for the GPO, while general PCB production and new projects were centred in the Selkirk facility.

Growth and Industry Impact

One of Exacta’s greatest strengths was its workforce. Many of the initial employees who helped set up the Selkirk plant were either drawn from Galashiels (some workers followed the job when the company moved) or were local Selkirk folk who retrained after careers in textiles. They underwent training to master the intricacies of PCB production. Before long, the workforce developed a high level of expertise, with many staff becoming specialists in particular processes — whether it was a technician adept at accurately screen-printing an etch resist pattern, or a drill operator capable of calibrating and maintaining multi-spindle drilling machines with micrometre precision. The sense of camaraderie and shared purpose was strong; employees knew they were trailblazers in bringing a new industry to their town.

Exacta’s management placed a strong emphasis on quality assurance. The company instituted rigorous testing for each batch of boards produced. They used optical inspection systems to catch any etching errors, and electrical test rigs to verify continuity and correct circuitry on completed boards. Meeting standards such as the Ministry of Defence’s quality requirements was not just a customer mandate but a matter of pride for Exacta. Over time, Exacta accumulated various certifications and approvals that allowed it to sell to a wider array of clients, including international customers. It became common for shipments of Exacta boards to head out not only to electronics firms in England’s industrial hubs but also to companies overseas. Each successful delivery enhanced the company’s reputation and proved that a business based in the Borders could compete globally in a high-tech field.

As the electronics industry progressed, Exacta kept pace with technical advancements. The 1980s saw the proliferation of multilayer PCB technology — boards with not just two, but four, six, or even more layers of circuitry laminated together to accommodate the increasing density of electronic components. Exacta invested in lamination presses and other specialised equipment needed to produce multilayer boards reliably. With this capability, they could serve the computing sector’s needs much more effectively, as mainframes and the new microcomputers required complex boards with many layers. Furthermore, Exacta explored flexible and flex-rigid circuit boards, which are boards that can bend or combine rigid sections with flexible, ribbon-like sections. These are used in devices where space is at a premium or parts move (for instance, certain aerospace or automotive applications). While rigid PCBs remained the bulk of production, diversifying into these areas showcased Exacta’s innovative spirit. The company wasn’t just a volume producer; it could also provide niche, specialised solutions — a fact that further solidified its market position.

The synergy between Exacta Circuits and regional economic development efforts was also evident. Throughout the 1970s and 1980s, agencies like the Scottish Development Agency (SDA) and local councils proudly pointed to the Exacta factory in Selkirk as a model of successful diversification. Political leaders would pay visits to the plant, don white lab coats and safety goggles, and marvel at a shop floor where workers quietly tended tanks of chemical baths and computer-controlled machines — a scene so different from the thunderous looms of the textile mills. Indeed, the facility was often held up as proof that the Borders region was not just clinging to past traditions but was capable of embracing a high-tech future.

Employment at Exacta grew steadily alongside the company’s technical progress. By the mid-1980s, the Selkirk factory employed on the order of a few hundred people, making it one of the town’s largest private employers. The jobs ranged from production line operators and skilled technicians to design engineers, quality inspectors, maintenance crews, and administrative staff. This provided opportunities for local graduates and apprentices alike. A number of individuals who started on the shop floor at Exacta eventually rose into supervisory or management positions, reflecting an internal culture that valued and promoted home-grown talent. Additionally, Exacta’s presence indirectly created jobs in supporting sectors around Selkirk — suppliers of industrial gases and chemicals, local toolmakers, transport companies, and even service businesses (like cafés and shops patronised by the workforce) all benefited from the steady economic activity the factory generated.

The company also became part of the community’s social fabric. Over the years, it was common for multiple members of the same family to work at Exacta, sometimes even across two generations. Exacta Circuits took part in community life: it might sponsor a float at the annual Selkirk Common Riding festival or host open days for the public to see what went on inside the modern factory. The pride in having a cutting-edge facility in town was palpable. School groups toured the plant, and seeing “white coats” working on futuristic-looking equipment inspired many local youngsters to consider careers in science or engineering. Selkirk, a town once known mostly for its tweed and knitwear, now also took pride in being home to Britain’s first purpose-built PCB factory. All of this strengthened community support for the company and reinforced the identity of Selkirk (and the central Borders at large) as a place that could succeed in both old and new industries.

Ownership Changes and Closure

For all its success through the 1970s and 1980s, Exacta Circuits eventually faced the same headwinds that were reshaping the global electronics industry. By the early 1990s, industry pressures were mounting, and ownership of the company shifted. In 1986, after a decade under STC, Exacta reverted to private ownership via a management buyout. This return to independence was brief but it showed the local management’s confidence in the business. The late 1980s saw Exacta continue to expand on its own terms — notably, as mentioned earlier, Exacta acquired BEPI in 1989, reuniting the two local PCB pioneers. The merger integrated the Galashiels and Selkirk operations into one company, with the goal of streamlining production and presenting a stronger front to the market.

By the mid-1990s, however, Exacta (now encompassing both the Selkirk and Galashiels plants) needed fresh investment to stay competitive in a rapidly globalising market. In 1995, the company was sold to the UK’s Forward Group plc. Forward Group, which had floated on the London stock exchange and was growing by consolidating PCB manufacturers, provided capital and a broader sales network. The managing director of Exacta at the time, Derrick Bumpsteed, was instrumental in this transition and even moved south to Tamworth to take on a senior role within Forward’s PCB division. Under Forward, the Selkirk plant became one unit within a portfolio of PCB factories across the UK and abroad.

For the workforce at Exacta, being part of Forward Group did not drastically change day-to-day operations at first. The Selkirk facility continued to do what it did best: produce high-quality, high-reliability circuit boards. It often collaborated with its sister sites on large orders, and being under a bigger umbrella sometimes brought in new customers via Forward’s wider reach. However, the loss of autonomy was noticeable. Strategic decisions about investment and product mix were now made at Forward’s headquarters rather than in the Borders. The Selkirk plant had to continually prove its worth within the larger group. Still, throughout the mid-1990s, the factory remained busy and employment stayed largely stable, giving little hint of the storm that would soon arrive.

That storm came in April 1997, when Forward Group was itself taken over by Viasystems. In one swoop, Exacta Circuits (along with all Forward’s other holdings) became part of Viasystems’ global empire. Initially, as with Galashiels, Viasystems executives visited the Selkirk site and assured employees that being part of a worldwide company would bring benefits — access to larger markets, potential for new investment, and so on. Some even speculated that the Selkirk plant might be designated a “centre of excellence” for certain types of complex boards within the Viasystems portfolio.

Those hopes were quickly dashed. Less than 18 months after the acquisition, Viasystems made the decision that the Borders had dreaded: it would close both of its Scottish Borders factories. In late 1997, the company announced that the Selkirk plant would shut down (the Galashiels closure was already in motion). The area was suddenly plunged into economic despair. The two electronics factories that had been symbols of the Borders’ successful diversification were slated to fall silent. For the community, it was an almost incomprehensible reversal — what had taken over 30 years to build was to be dismantled in a matter of months. It was widely regarded as one of the worst economic blows to hit the central Borders in living memory.

Workers at Exacta’s Selkirk site reacted with shock, anger, and ultimately determination to fight for their jobs. Alongside their colleagues from the Galashiels plant, they launched a campaign to save the factories. The efforts mirrored those in Galashiels: petitions, political lobbying, media outreach, and passionate appeals to logic and fairness. Employees emphasised that the Selkirk facility was modern, productive, and had an exceptional track record for quality. Many pointed out that Viasystems had benefited from public funding (via grants to ISL and possibly prior regional aid to Exacta/Forward) and questioned the ethics of taking the money and then abandoning the community. Local and national media covered the human stories behind the impending layoffs, putting pressure on Viasystems and government officials.

Despite all efforts, by the summer of 1998 it became clear that Viasystems would not reverse course. The company, saddled with debt from its expansion, was intent on consolidating production in its new “supersite” on Tyneside and in lower-cost overseas plants. In a last bid to improve the Borders plants’ efficiency (and perhaps make them more saleable), a new manufacturing director appointed by Viasystems undertook a drastic reorganisation of the Scottish operations in mid-1998. The production processes were shuffled between sites: the Dunsdale Selkirk factory would specialise solely in multilayer board fabrication, the older Selkirk building at Shawburn would house only drilling and electroless copper plating (plus an older plating line that couldn’t be moved), and all other processes (pattern plating, solder mask, testing, etc.) were transferred to the Galashiels plant. This massive undertaking — essentially re-arranging the entire manufacturing flow — had to be done while still trying to meet customer orders, causing immense strain. Significant capital was actually spent during this time: several new state-of-the-art drilling machines were installed at Shawburn, and a huge automated PAL plating line was purchased from a supplier in China for the Galashiels factory (the building was even extended to fit it). Despite these efforts to streamline, it was perhaps too late; rumour among staff was that if Viasystems couldn’t drum up enough orders to fill the new North Tyneside factory, the Borders sites would be closed regardless. Tellingly, when Chinese engineers finished installing the PAL plating line in Galashiels in late summer 1998, they reportedly quipped that they’d be back in a few months to dismantle it — they turned out to be right, as that very equipment (along with the new drill machines) was later relocated to Tyneside after the closures.

The Selkirk plant was slated to cease production in June 1999 (Galashiels shut down a few months earlier, in January 1999). As the final day of work approached in Selkirk, it was marked by poignant scenes. Long-time employees embraced and bid tearful farewells. Some took home small mementos — a toolkit, a factory pass, the last circuit board off the line — as reminders of their years at “Exacta.” A modest ceremony was held where local management thanked the staff for their dedication, though the moment was bittersweet at best. After nearly 30 years, the hum of machinery in Dunsdalehaugh gave way to an eerie quiet. A proud chapter of Selkirk’s industrial story had come to an end.

In the aftermath of Viasystems’ exit, there were attempts to find a silver lining. Almost immediately, Scottish enterprise agencies and local officials began searching for alternative employers to take over the facilities or to create new jobs for the displaced workers. Remarkably, one glimmer of hope came from a local PCB firm called Signum Circuits. Signum had actually existed for some time (it was formerly MEPD, the small Selkirk PCB shop mentioned earlier, and had been rebranded in 1994 after being acquired by Edinburgh businessman Guido Crolla). Sensing opportunity, Signum’s management — which by late 1999 included a former Exacta managing director who had joined them — moved quickly. As soon as Viasystems vacated the Dunsdale facility, Signum Circuits leased part of the empty factory and began transferring some of its own production equipment there from its smaller site. They also recruited a number of experienced Viasystems ex-employees. Signum specialised in manufacturing large, thick, high-layer-count backplane boards (the kind used in telecom switches and mainframe computers), and it aimed to pick up orders from customers who had been left in the lurch by Viasystems’ departure. Indeed, many of those customers were displeased with the abrupt closures and were willing to give business to an alternative UK supplier if possible.

For a brief period in 2000, it seemed a phoenix might rise from the ashes. Some of the familiar sounds returned to Dunsdalehaugh — machines whirring, people working — and the community watched anxiously. The local press covered Signum’s expansion with hopeful optimism, seeing it as a potential lifeline for retaining at least a slice of the region’s electronics industry. However, larger economic forces intervened once again. The global tech downturn in 2001(following the burst of the dot-com bubble and a slump in telecommunications investment) hit Signum’s customer base hard. Orders dried up, cash flow became a problem, and Signum Circuits went into receivership by late 2001. Large-scale PCB manufacturing in the Scottish Borders truly came to an end at that point.

In a final coda, Signum’s original directors made one more attempt: they restarted the company on a much smaller scale in 2002, moving operations back to their original North Riverside premises and giving up the costly Dunsdale lease. But fate dealt a cruel blow — a serious fire over the 2003–04 New Year period gutted the small factory and destroyed critical equipment. With that disaster, the company folded in early 2004. The last spark of PCB production in the Borders was extinguished.

The Viasystems episode is remembered with bitterness in the Borders to this day — in fact, the company’s very name has become something of a swear word locally, synonymous with broken promises. From the perspective of the community, an industry that they had built up with pride and sustained for decades was dismantled by corporate bean-counters who had little regard for the human impact. Ironically, Viasystems’ grand plan didn’t have a happy ending for the company either: the much-expanded North Tyneside plant that was supposed to replace the Borders production ran into trouble quickly and went into receivership around 2001/2002. The aggressive cost-cutting strategy proved short-sighted, and Viasystems itself later struggled and eventually was absorbed by other entities. That knowledge, however, was cold comfort to the hundreds of Borders families who had lost their livelihoods.

Now, with the historical narrative of BEPI and Exacta told, we can step back and examine what this industrial rollercoaster meant for the region at large — the impacts on employment, education, and the community psyche — as well as an interesting footnote about how the Borders’ PCB prowess quietly contributed to a global innovation in mobile technology.

Impact on Employment, Education, and the Local Economy

The rise and fall of the electronics and PCB industry in Galashiels and Selkirk left an indelible mark on the Scottish Borders. Beyond the immediate booms and busts, it influenced the makeup of the local workforce, the focus of educational institutions, and the broader economic trajectory of the region. It’s worth examining how this chapter altered employment patterns, skill levels, and community outlook in the Borders — and what lessons it left behind.

Employment and Economic Diversification

The arrival of the electronics industry fundamentally changed employment in the central Borders for several decades. Through the 1970s, ’80s and ’90s, it provided an alternative source of jobs just as the traditional textile employers were fading away. Some key effects on the local economy included:

• Reduced Unemployment: Towns like Galashiels and Selkirk were spared the worst of the joblessness that might have resulted from the textile collapse. The new electronics jobs absorbed many who would otherwise have found themselves out of work, thereby reducing strain on social services and keeping more people in paid employment.

• Population Retention: The availability of skilled technical jobs helped stem the out-migration of young people. Instead of having to move to Edinburgh, Glasgow or further afield to build a career, many school leavers and graduates found opportunities right at home. This in turn kept local communities more demographically balanced and vibrant than they might have been if a whole generation had left.

• Supporting Industries: A cluster effect took hold, with local suppliers and service businesses growing alongside the PCB factories. Companies supplying raw materials (like copper-clad board laminates and chemicals), speciality gases, precision tools, and maintenance services all benefited from having major manufacturers in the area. Transport firms got business delivering products to customers and bringing in components. Even shops, cafés, and other local businesses saw increased trade from a workforce that had steady wages to spend.

• Cultural Shift in Work: The nature of factory work in the Borders broadened. Instead of everyone working in wool sheds or knitting rooms, a significant number of locals were working in cleanrooms and electronics labs. This introduced a new work culture focused on precision manufacturing, chemical safety, and international quality standards. The very image of a “Borders worker” evolved to include technicians in white lab coats alongside those in dusty mill overalls. This shift not only provided new career paths for the younger generation but also raised the overall skill profile and aspirations of the local labour force.

Technical Education and Skills Legacy

The flourishing of BEPI and Exacta Circuits spurred significant developments in technical education and skill levels in the Borders. A region that once primarily trained people for textiles, agriculture, or basic trades had to quickly adapt to produce electronics technicians, engineers, and skilled machine operators. The transformation in local skills was facilitated by several avenues:

• Apprenticeships: Both BEPI and Exacta offered formal apprenticeship programmes. Young trainees split their time between classroom learning (often at a local technical college) and hands-on work at the factory. These apprenticeships produced cohorts of home-grown technicians and junior engineers. A teenager who joined as an apprentice in the 1970s could emerge a few years later as a fully qualified electronics technician — something almost unimaginable in the Borders a generation prior.

• Collaboration with Colleges: The local further education college (eventually known as Borders College) adapted its curriculum to the needs of the new industry. Courses in electronics, electrical engineering, computing, and production management were introduced or expanded. Companies would sometimes send employees for additional certifications, and college lecturers kept in touch with industry to ensure that what they taught was up-to-date. This town-and-gown collaboration meant there was a pipeline of appropriately skilled workers and upskilling opportunities for existing staff.

• School Programmes: At the secondary school level, awareness of the opportunities in electronics led to the inclusion of basic electronics and technology modules in some schools’ curricula. Career guidance counsellors increasingly highlighted electronics manufacturing as a viable path for students with an aptitude for science or maths. Schools organised field trips to the PCB factories, giving pupils a firsthand look at modern manufacturing. By the 1980s, it wasn’t unusual for a pupil in Galashiels to aspire to be an electronics engineer or a computer technician — careers that wouldn’t have been on the radar in their grandparents’ time.

• Cross-Training and Skill Development: Within the factories, employees were often cross-trained in multiple processes (etching, plating, solder masking, assembly, testing, etc.), fostering a versatile skill set. Many workers took advantage of in-house training to learn new techniques as the technology evolved (for example, learning to operate CNC drilling machines or to programme automated test equipment). This continuous learning environment meant the Borders workforce stayed technically sharp and adaptable. Even those who eventually moved on to other industries carried with them a strong foundation in precision manufacturing and problem-solving.

• Work Ethic and Culture: The electronics industry instilled a new kind of professional culture in the Borders. Workers became accustomed to strict quality control procedures, meticulous documentation, and teamwork to troubleshoot complex issues. This cultivated a highly disciplined and quality-conscious workforce. Those attitudes often spilled over into other areas of work and life — the same individuals who meticulously etched circuits or ran lab tests later applied their diligence to whatever new jobs they took or businesses they started. In effect, the region gained a reputation for having people with modern manufacturing expertise and a solid work ethic to match.

Broader Societal Impact and Lessons Learned

Beyond economics and education, the experience of hosting (and then losing) a high-tech industry produced broader societal impacts in the Scottish Borders. Several key lessons and changes emerged from this chapter:

• Community Identity: The Scottish Borders had long been identified with textiles, farming, and rural craftsmanship. The introduction of the electronics industry added a new facet to the region’s identity: one of innovation and adaptability. Even though the large PCB factories are now gone, that period is remembered with pride. It showed that the region’s people could master a cutting-edge industry far removed from their traditional base. Local museums and history projects now recount the tales of Currie & Mill’s startup and the heyday of Exacta and BEPI, ensuring that this chapter of local history is not forgotten.

• Economic Caution: The rise and fall of the PCB sector taught local leaders and residents a valuable lesson about not putting all their eggs in one basket. The Borders had diversified from textiles into electronics out of necessity, and for a time it paid off — but then electronics itself largely evaporated. This reinforced the importance of having a diverse economic base. In the wake of Viasystems’ pull-out, there was a renewed push to diversify the Borders economy further: initiatives to promote tourism, food and drink (artisan cashmere, whisky, etc.), small-scale manufacturing, and digital services all gained momentum. The community became much more mindful that even seemingly successful industries can be vulnerable to external forces. (Indeed, some industry observers believe that had the Borders PCB firms survived the 1990s, they might still exist today on a smaller scale — focusing on high-complexity, low-volume work and outsourcing mass production to Asia, much as a few other UK PCB companies have done.)

• Globalisation Awareness: The Viasystems saga in particular brought home the harsh realities of globalisation to the Borders population. Suddenly, people in Galashiels and Selkirk saw how decisions made in corporate offices half a world away could upend their lives. This raised awareness (and some scepticism) about the global market’s impact on local communities. It sparked discussions on workers’ rights, on how government grants to multinationals are monitored, and on the need for strategies to mitigate the impact of global economic swings. In a sense, the Borders became more worldly-wise: they had been part of a global industrial network — for better and for worse — and that experience broadened perspectives. (It was not lost on locals that the giant factory which absorbed their work ended up failing as well, underscoring that “bigger” and “cheaper” isn’t always sustainable.)

• Infrastructure and Connectivity: The effort to attract and sustain high-tech industry in the Borders underscored the importance of good infrastructure and connectivity. During the electronics boom, the limitations of local transport links (for instance, the absence — at that time — of a rail link to Edinburgh) were frequently noted as challenges. This added weight to campaigns for infrastructure improvements. Indeed, one could argue that the eventual reopening of the Borders Railway in 2015 — restoring train service between Edinburgh and Galashiels after nearly 50 years — was influenced in part by decades of lobbying that cited the need to better support and attract industries. Similarly, demands for better telecommunications and broadband in the region gained urgency, anticipating the digital age. Thus, the legacy of the electronics era includes its contribution to the case for modernising the Borders’ connectivity to the wider world.

• Innovation and Spin-offs: While the major electronics firms shut down, they left behind seeds of innovation. A number of former engineers, managers, and technicians from BEPI and Exacta went on to start their own small businesses or carried their expertise into other companies. For example, some ex-employees formed consulting firms in electronics manufacturing; others moved into the growing Scottish tech sector (such as electronics design firms in Edinburgh or Glasgow), effectively transferring knowledge from the Borders to other parts of the country and beyond. In this way, the know-how and innovative spirit that had been cultivated in Galashiels and Selkirk did not vanish — it diffused into the broader economy, a subtle but real contribution. Even today, one can find ex-Exacta and ex-BEPI people working in PCB or semiconductor industries across Europe, North America, and Asia — a quiet diaspora of talent that started their careers in the Borders.

• Social Fabric: The shared experience of building a new industry and then facing its loss had a profound social impact. During the peak years, there was a sense of collective achievement in the Borders — locals took pride in saying, “We make circuit boards that go into airplanes and computers around the world.” When the closures struck, the way people pulled together to support the affected families demonstrated deep solidarity in these communities. Many of those who worked in the PCB plants formed lasting friendships and networks. To this day, there are reunions and social media groups for former Exacta or BEPI employees, where they reminisce about the “PCB factory” days. These social bonds, forged in both good times and adversity, remain part of the community’s fabric. On a more somber note, the closures also had lingering financial repercussions: the winding up of Viasystems’ pension scheme left many retired employees with less than they were due. Years later, some ex-workers are still receiving government compensation payments to cover the shortfall, a reminder of how decisions in 1998 echoed long into the future.

Ultimately, the history of the electronics and PCB industry in the Scottish Borders is a story of adaptability, ingenuity, and resilience. A region faced with economic ruin reinvented itself and, for a time, thrived in an unexpected field. Though global forces eventually brought that chapter to an end, the impact on the community — in skills gained, confidence built, and lessons learned — has endured. It stands as a reminder that even in the wake of decline, new opportunities can emerge, and that the spirit of innovation can take root in the most traditional of places. Galashiels and Selkirk’s journey from textile mills to circuit boards, and the legacy of firms like BEPI and Exacta Circuits, will long be remembered as a remarkable chapter in Scotland’s industrial heritage.

Early SIM Card Innovation in the Scottish Borders

Amid the broader tale of industrial transformation, there is an intriguing footnote: the Borders’ electronics pioneers had a hand in developments that led to one of modern life’s ubiquitous technologies — the SIM card. While they never manufactured the smart card inserts that we use in mobile phones today, their early innovations in PCB miniaturisation and connector technology helped lay the groundwork for the Subscriber Identity Module.

Printed Circuit Board Pioneers in Galashiels

As we’ve covered, Galashiels in the Scottish Borders became an unlikely cradle of electronics innovation in the mid-20th century. In 1961, Bert Currie and Ken Mill launched one of Britain’s first specialist PCB businesses in a small room above a bank on Galashiels High Street, marking the birth of a new industry for the town. By 1962, their venture had moved into a former textile mill (Abbots Mill) with just £500 of borrowed capital. This move signalled Galashiels’ entry into high-tech manufacturing — a significant shift for a region traditionally known for textiles and knitwear. Although Currie and Mill parted ways soon after, their respective companies, Exacta and BEPI, became trailblazers that positioned Galashiels – and later nearby Selkirk – at the forefront of PCB technology in the UK.

Multi-Layer and Gold-Plated PCB Breakthroughs

Throughout the 1960s and 1970s, the Scottish Borders electronics industry grew rapidly in capability. Exacta built its state-of-the-art factory in Selkirk in 1971 (the first of its kind in the country), and BEPI in Galashiels was expanding under the wing of Philips by the late ’70s. A key innovation during this era was the development of multi-layer PCBs. Unlike simple two-sided boards, multi-layer boards could pack several layers of circuitry on top of each other, dramatically increasing circuit density while keeping boards compact. Engineers in Galashiels and Selkirk mastered this technique, which was crucial for the miniaturisation of electronic devices. Just as importantly, these boards featured gold-plated contact surfaces. Gold-plating the edge connectors and contact pads of a circuit board ensured a reliable, corrosion-resistant connection – essential for any component that would be plugged in and out frequently or needed longevity. By the mid-1980s, local PCB firms were producing high-quality multi-layer boards with gold contacts for clients around the world. Telecommunications companies, in particular, were sourcing advanced circuit boards from the Borders for use in switching systems and other infrastructure. What had started as a two-man venture in a tiny room had blossomed into a regional high-technology hub. Factories in Galashiels and Selkirk were supplying complex PCBs to industries like defence, aerospace, computing – and critically, the emerging field of mobile telecommunications. This home-grown expertise in fabricating tiny, durable electronic circuits set the stage for the next big leap.

Prototyping the Subscriber Identity Module (SIM)

In the late 1980s, engineers across Europe were designing the new digital mobile phone system known as GSM (Global System for Mobile Communications). One revolutionary idea in the GSM standard was to use a removable smart card to store each subscriber’s identity, phone number, and encryption keys. This meant users could carry their account information on a tiny card and swap it between handsets – a radical departure from older mobile phones, which had all subscriber data fixed inside the device. Implementing this concept was no small engineering challenge: the “smart card” needed to be robust, compact, and have reliable electrical contacts despite repeated handling.

This is exactly where the Borders’ PCB expertise came into play. Engineers in Galashiels and Selkirk, working with multi-layer, gold-plated circuit boards, had years of experience making small form-factor circuit modules for telecom and computing applications. In effect, they were already producing credit-card-sized or smaller circuit boards with embedded chips and gold connector pads — the essential ingredients of what would become the SIM card. Using their know-how in layering circuitry, they contributed to early experiments that proved it was feasible to put an integrated circuit on a removable card with external contacts. These early subscriber identity module prototypes were essentially miniature multi-layer PCBs – a product type the local firms had been perfecting for years in other guises.

When the first GSM networks launched in 1991, the SIM cards used were about the size of a credit card, with a distinctive gold contact area. (Over time, the SIM would shrink to the smaller formats we use today.) The initial SIMs were produced by specialised tech companies in Munich and elsewhere, not in the Scottish Borders. However, the concept and the technology had clear roots in what had already been demonstrated in places like Galashiels: precise etching of copper tracks on multiple layers, and plating of robust gold contacts on a portable circuit. In other words, the Borders electronics industry provided a proof-of-concept and practical know-how for carrying an integrated circuit on a removable card, years before billions of people would come to depend on SIM cards in their mobile phones.

Linking Borders Innovation to Mobile Telecom History

The timeline of this innovation is a testament to the region’s quiet contribution to mobile telecom history. From the initial PCB manufacturing forays in Galashiels in 1961, to the first custom PCB factory in Selkirk in 1971, the Borders built up formidable capabilities in electronics. By the 1980s, companies like Exacta Circuits and BEPI (by then part of the Philips group) were tackling cutting-edge projects for telecommunications. It was during this period that the practical reality of a subscriber identity module took shape. Local specialists were uniquely positioned to solve the engineering problems of making a tiny, durable circuit card for phones. They had experience delivering high-density boards for clients across Europe and beyond – indeed, orders from telecom firms in Scandinavia, France, and North America were flowing into the Borders by the mid-’80s. This international collaboration likely intersected with early GSM development trials. Thus, when the concept of the SIM card emerged, the talent and technology needed to build it were already present in the Borders’ skill set.

In 1991, the world’s first GSM call was made and the first SIM cards were issued (notably in Finland, with cards developed by Giesecke & Devrient in Germany). But behind that milestone lay contributions from many places. Galashiels and Selkirk’s engineers had helped pioneer the multi-layer, gold-plated circuit boards that made such miniaturised, removable smart cards possible. To be clear, the Borders firms did not mass-produce the SIM cards that went into phones; those were manufactured by other companies specifically set up for smart card production. However, the SIM card’s core idea – a small, gold-contact printed circuit carrying an integrated microchip – was a natural evolution of what had already been done in the Borders a few years prior. In short, the Scottish Borders played a subtle yet pivotal role in the birth of the SIM card. The region’s early adoption of innovative PCB techniques provided part of the technological groundwork for one of mobile telecommunications’ key inventions. Today, whenever we insert or swap a SIM card in a phone, we’re indirectly echoing that legacy of Galashiels and Selkirk: a legacy where a small rural community’s drive for electronic innovation helped connect the world.