Hansard

Not for the first time, but perhaps for different reasons, George Adam has made me cry.

Trying to sum up the strong, smart, funny, incredibly kind woman who was Jeane Freeman in just a few minutes is an almost impossible task. However, I know how much the words already spoken across the chamber will have meant to Susan, to Jeane’s nieces, Nicola and Louise, and to her great nieces, Emily and Georgie, who all join us here today.

Long before I had the privilege—I use that word deliberately—of calling Jeane a friend, I knew her by her fearsome reputation. I was leader of the Opposition in here and she was a special adviser to the then First Minister, Jack McConnell. I vividly remember her once scowling at me in the garden lobby, after I had given her boss a particularly rough time at FMQs. I am sure that I scowled back, but, inside, I was absolutely terrified.

A bit later, I got to know Jeane as the beloved other half of my long-time friend Susan, and it was through their relationship that Jeane and I became such close friends. Of course, it was in the run-up to the independence referendum that I first campaigned with Jeane, and I discovered then just how powerful it was to have Jeane Freeman on your side. Her co-founding of Women for Independence spoke not just to her lifelong feminism, but also to her conviction—which was so obvious in her ministerial roles, too—that voices traditionally sidelined in politics should and must be heard much more loudly.

After her election as an MSP, in 2016, Jeane became one of the most important members of my Government, steering Social Security Scotland into existence and making sure that it was founded on the right values—and then, of course, overseeing the national health service. As George has alluded to, however, it is fair to say that Susan has never allowed me to forget the idiocy—which, I think, is the word that she used—of me including sport in Jeane’s portfolio.

During the five years that we served together in Government, I learned from direct personal experience that Jeane Freeman possessed one of the sharpest, most astute political brains that I have ever known. As we have already heard, she plied her political trade in the Communist Party before joining Labour and then, of course, the SNP. But Jeane was no machine politician. She had an almost perfect blend of intellectual and emotional intelligence, and she had an instinctive understanding that political ideology means nothing if it does not improve people’s lives.

When thinking about how best to encapsulate the Jeane Freeman I knew and loved, three hallmarks of her character stand out. The first is principle. Jeane’s starting point on every issue was principle, not expediency or political advantage. That did not mean that she was not pragmatic or that she would not compromise. She was and she did, but it was always from a foundation of principle—that is, a clear-headed view of what, in her estimation, was right and wrong. What would best further the principles of fairness, dignity and inclusion and advance the cause of social justice? That was always her primary motivation.

The second is public service. Throughout her career, in all the roles that she held, Jeane was driven by a deep sense of public service. Most people will not realise this, but, in the last couple of years of her life, Jeane spent a considerable amount of time preparing for and giving evidence to two public inquiries: the Scottish hospitals inquiry and the Covid inquiry. Given the extent to which that work was eating into her retirement, she could have been forgiven for grumbling about it, but she never did. That is because she understood and believed that, for a senior Government minister, the duty of service owed to the public does not end when one demits office.

The third hallmark—and, for me, the most important of all—is friendship. The most common thing that members of the public have said to me today is that our daily presence on their television screens during Covid helped them through that dreadful time. However, the truth is that I could not have done what I did during Covid without Jeane by my side. As health secretary, she had a massive responsibility of her own to carry, but she also helped me to bear mine. Particularly in those dark days of March and April 2020, there were times when, just before stepping on to the podium, I felt overwhelmed by the grimness of the update that I was about to give. In those moments, Jeane would often lightly touch my arm and say something simple, such as, “You can do this.” That got me through.

For all Jeane’s friends, the suddenness and severity of her diagnosis came as a profound and brutal shock. However, in the days that followed, there was also solace. We got to say to her the things we wanted her to know about her impact on our lives. We got to tell her that we loved her. Visiting Jeane in hospital over those three short weeks also brought an incredible privilege. It allowed us to bear witness to the depth of the unconditional love that existed between her and Susan, who truly was the light and love of her life.

I say to Susan: love like yours and Jeane’s is all too rare, and it does not die. It will be with you always, just as the memory and the legacy of Jeane Freeman, a woman I am so lucky to have had in my life, will be with all of us forever.

Rest in peace, my friend. [Applause.]