Hansard

I, too, pay tribute to Alasdair Allan for securing this debate. It is fitting that, almost a century after a disaster that took 201 lives, our Parliament gives time for reflection and commemoration.

I say that it is fitting, because, as others have pointed out, the disaster was for a long time seldom mentioned in public discourse. It was so enormous in scale that it was almost something unspeakable. These young men survived the slaughter of world war one only to perish within sight of home, and their loss cast a dark and silent shadow over the islands, which had lost so many more young men in the war. Others have already talked about the significant demographic effect of the disaster. Those men would have been coming home to start families with their sweethearts, but, as it was, depopulation accelerated rapidly in the Gàidhealtachd in the 1920s.

There is another Iolaire legacy. The years of silence have lifted, and the tragedy is now being properly explored and features extensively in the oral, social and cultural history of the Outer Hebrides. In that respect, I pay particular tribute to the dedicated web resource in Gaelic and English that has been created by the National Library of Scotland. A wealth of the original documents and oral history from the time has been digitised, including facsimiles of news reports. One such report, from The Scotsman of 6 January 1919, says:

“Carts in little processions of twos and threes, each bearing its coffin from the mortuary, pass through the streets of Stornoway on their way to some rural village, and all heads are bared as they pass.”

The digital resource draws on the work of the journalist John MacLeod, whose highly praised book “When I Heard The Bell: The Loss of the Iolaire” documents the loss of the Iolaire and its aftermath, and there are also interviews with islanders such as 17-year-old Freya Macleod, the great-granddaughter of Iolaire survivor John Finlay Macleod, who saved upwards of 40 people on the stricken ship by swimming ashore with a life rope.

The resource also links to some of the many artistic responses to the Iolaire disaster, such as recordings made in the 1970s by musicians and poets who were alive at the time of the sinking.

Contemporary artists have responded to the centenary. An Lanntair is currently showing “Dawn till Dark”, an exhibition featuring the work of glass artist Alec Galloway and photographer Mhairi Law. Although, unfortunately, I have been unable to see the exhibition, I have been impressed by some of the images that I have been able to view. My partner, who is a writer, assisted Mr Galloway with a piece called “Harbour Full of Words”. It is a beautiful large glass bowl, filled with seawater from the harbour and lit from beneath. It contains 201 pieces of sea glass, collected from beaches where victims were found. Each piece of glass is etched with a word connected to the Iolaire, and the piece includes the names of all those who died.

The new year sees another exhibition—“Iolaire 100”—by Margaret Ferguson, featuring portraits of the sailors who died as well as those who survived. That is fitting because, although the tragedy of the Iolaire is all about loss, it is also about survival. A community that suffered so much loss, death and emigration did survive. Its Gaelic culture continues to inspire people around the world. Lives were stolen that night, but hope was not extinguished. The Iolaire has become a symbol of sorrow, certainly, but also a symbol of resilience.